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"rainbowing" poems
From white to many, From one to seven, We live in that heaven, Which is people driven. We should rainbow our-self, And then the battle is won. Bending from white to many colors, as rainbow itself, What could we have done, if we had only been one. Rainbowing is an art, which we have to attend, Coz every time we have a different self to present. Our battle with life is mellowed, when we rainbow, As winning seem as close as, those seven colors through my window. The artist told me about it once, The Almighty hinted when the creation of it was done. Yet the juvenile me, always pondered, That there is some magic happening, when it thundered.
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
The Rainbow Battle
Swirling in oily rainbowing movement the bubble traps time, wraps beauty around eternity and vibrates in worlds of pure fluidity. Excelling in soapy space jailed restraint orb creates and encases its outer in fragile globular skin layered in tiny gossamer jewelry. Look at its see-through glassy sphere and matchless potential caught in a universe of wondrous hues of shining swirl entombed inside. Then in bursting lets fall what was first indescribable but now disappeared bubble-magic still appeals to the mind of an inner-child.
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Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC
Bubble Magic.
Tolstoy, read as mere words, no intonation, mere elements of presence, sensation-ibility. As the wares we learn to form from raw mater-iality, whenever ifity, brings a bubble. We, in these times, we all have laughed as and with, children, in our own times, seeing bubbles form, and laughing at the rainbowing, spectral show, this is the basic form, watch it pop. As spheres and bubbles differ, so do ideal expressions attempted, as it seems we be drawn to spend a minute or two per use, as each thinks each word, and wonders if use, were not power, what power must be? Knowing not, we dare guess, as when an old gentleman, teaches a child, the truth about right and wrong, first guess, right, aha, sweet… but, what's wrong, no candy here, so my reward for seeking must be knowing this is it, finish the thousand and say, nothing that feels like answered prayer, costs more than your time to listen to lessons learned in Russian winters. So there.
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May 22, 2023
May 22, 2023 at 3:10 PM UTC
What men live on
Colour Me Love. Colour me bubbles of misty-blue love. Blow them, drifting on soundless high cloud. I wait here, gratefully searching above A whispering sky, knowing the ether around My window pane will resound once again To more heart-warming secrets, hauntingly Packaged by words wrapped in your name, And containing nothing but love unforced. Colour me baubles of glistening gems. Rubies for hugs, emeralds for evergreen Promise of undying devotion and bend Them like rainbowing arrows, gleaming Their star-studded aerial journey straight Into my dreams, colour me gentle, cover My fears in caring spheres at the gateway Of this beating heart and paint me with love.
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Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
Colour Me Love.
Colour me bubbles of misty-blue love. Blow them, drifting on soundless high cloud. I wait here, gratefully searching above Starlit skies, knowing the ether around My window pane will resound once again To more heart-warming secrets, hauntingly Packaged in words wrapped in your name. Containing nothing but love's tender force. Colour me baubles of glistening gems. Rubies for hugs, emeralds for evergreen Promise of undying affection - - bend Them like rainbowing arrows, gleaming Their star-studded aerial journey, straight Into my dreams. Colour me gentle doves White as moonlight to sing in the gateway Of my waiting heart and paint me in love.
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Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 6:02 AM UTC
Colour Me Love.
Rainbowing guff Which wasn't whether other wise The ordeal of love Was ours, a heart to despise? Wagers appear Salt for honey Quiet for pepper All out, for the money Sat urges Complete the stalking... When misery has a word... Isn't a stickler for how, wishes walking? True... We have the odor of anxiety Made to order, made to due The impossible, in order of tragedy... Complex cousins Ready to dance, obligation, into the light When such, a saving grace, has seen the poison Blind bell's on the route, to what fate might...
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Oct 23, 2024
Oct 23, 2024 at 4:17 PM UTC
Ethics To A Sausage