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"remise" poems
i left your wine glass on my bedside table for seven days it settled in the very place that your hands had aimlessly chosen staining a ring around a mostly empty bodice. mostly empty? barely full? you see, for me, the wine glass was my way of having you stay as long as I wanted. I saw your delicate fingerprints stamped upon the stem and body just as they were on mine, under a tin roof amidst a blanket of summer rain.                                  ...... i washed the glass tonight as you boarded the plane to the rest of your life. i wonder if you'll think of me as you sip on your complimentary glass. rouge ou blanc, mon amour? rouge comme mon amour? ou blanc comme mon remise? -Anna Blake
0
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC
love drunk
I've come to see, This daylight adrift; amidst. Refracting my joyless abyss. Shadows of doubt linger; restless. Misleading my moral compass, Distant places that shouldn't exist. Darkest corners of a timeless eclipse. The more emotions I emit. This cloud's progress persist. So remise, I dismiss fears that are amiss.
0
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
Presence of Doubt
Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Stage One. The first time you appeared, you filled my brain with affection, that felt as if it were like oxygen, a necessity for my survival. You came on to me, fast and overpowering, feelings I hadn’t felt before, you and only you is what I grasp onto. I can’t eat but slowly you consume me. Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Stage Two. I like turns into I love, my affection for you is growing like a sponge, soaking up every bit you can give to me. Little did I know you were a poisonous being, embedding yourself into my brain you ***** wretch, clouding my emotions by threading my prefrontal cortex with detrimental lies. Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Stage Three. The symptoms are there, yelling loud and clear like an angry father, when curfew wasn’t met. My reality becomes evident when I see your hand in hers, I become trapped in an ache that I can internally feel, and that others can physically see in my figure. I decide to cut you out like a surgeon and try to mend the pieces that are severed. Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Stage Four. I try to heal but it seems to be no use, the ache persists not only in my head, but has spread to my heart. My body is conquered by chemical reactions like chemotherapy, trying to wipe out the memories we have created and disease you are to me. But still my body, my soul is weak and fragile like a dry leaf in autumn, crumbling, only after time will it be able to remise. Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Remission. You are vacant from me, but you will always linger.
0
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 9:02 PM UTC
Our Love is like a Cancer
Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Stage One. The first time you appeared, you filled my brain with affection, that felt as if it were like oxygen, a necessity for my survival. You came on to me, fast and overpowering, feelings I hadn’t felt before, you and only you is what I grasp onto. I can’t eat but slowly you consume me. Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Stage Two. I like turns into I love, my affection for you is growing like a sponge, soaking up every bit you can give to me. Little did I know you were a poisonous being, embedding yourself into my brain you ***** wretch, clouding my emotions by threading my prefrontal cortex with detrimental lies. Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Stage Three. The symptoms are there, yelling loud and clear like an angry father, when curfew wasn’t met. My reality becomes evident when I see your hand in hers, I become trapped in an ache that I can internally feel, and that others can physically see in my figure. I decide to cut you out like a surgeon and try to mend the pieces that are severed. Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Stage Four. I try to heal but it seems to be no use, the ache persists not only in my head, but has spread to my heart. My body is conquered by chemical reactions like chemotherapy, trying to wipe out the memories we have created and disease you are to me. But still my body, my soul is weak and fragile like a dry leaf in autumn, crumbling, only after time will it be able to remise. Our love is like a cancer. I’m fighting for my life again. Remission. You are vacant from me, but you will always linger.
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49
Left to surmise My surprise Bouquet of Roses Love devise Soul remise Two single Roses Your device My demise Dozen throned Roses Your disguise Heart excise Petal felled Roses Anger arise Hate comprise Black-tipped Roses Left to surmise My surprise Bouquet of Roses
0
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 6:42 AM UTC
Bouquet of Roses
*ants crawl on slowly* 1. left eye is hopping fast for days now and time's but a fair damsel of delightful illusion how she taunts and teases you into sweet oblivion of wickedly sensual basking she drugs you with deep charisma and struts at the doorway of your senses she clutches onto the tracks in your mind and claws deep into your ragged psyche that same old song playing over and over... ........over 2. see right through train's chassis rail sleepers spin vigorously backward in such frightful haste to get nowhere no-one knows the real speed of time out there..... but for mere mortals it's leniently paced in adagio and parceled in mellowed excruciation as ants walk serene alongside the tracks 3. creep into chaotic patterns fall into hell through a secret back door even satan knows not of as perched as he is on his oh-so lofty pile of ordure his blind heart sees not the strobed tracks of your visiting soul 4. take a syncopated shot up the arm from the foul fang of a kind sinner while saints bathe in fat glory elsewhere when you look again you lie alone in a corner room broken yet untethered tracks to heaven so obscured by your paradoxical attempts at levity on the twisted playground of life's malady 5. how badly you tripped so many **** times you ....got in the way of your own remise each time you fell you looked UP expecting help when all the while the answers lay at your feet: [your own mistakes are authentic and real; you try to fox-tread out but trying to turn your back on a ***** called destiny - equals catastrophe personified oh, she WILL beckon you back with her crooked finger most kindly to ensure no overdue lessons wait too long.....] *the ants crawl on so slowly* S T, Wed 10 July 2013
0
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 6:52 AM UTC
tracks
*ants crawl on slowly* 1. left eye is hopping fast for days now and time's but a fair damsel of delightful illusion how she taunts and teases you into sweet oblivion of wickedly sensual basking she drugs you with deep charisma and struts at the doorway of your senses she clutches onto the tracks in your mind and claws deep into your ragged psyche that same old song playing over and over... ........over 2. see right through train's chassis rail sleepers spin vigorously backward in such frightful haste to get nowhere no-one knows the real speed of time out there..... but for mere mortals it's leniently paced in adagio and parceled in mellowed excruciation as ants walk serene alongside the tracks 3. creep into chaotic patterns fall into hell through a secret back door even satan knows not of as perched as he is on his oh-so lofty pile of ordure his blind heart sees not the strobed tracks of your visiting soul 4. take a syncopated shot up the arm from the foul fang of a kind sinner while saints bathe in fat glory elsewhere when you look again you lie alone in a corner room broken yet untethered tracks to heaven so obscured by your paradoxical attempts at levity on the twisted playground of life's malady 5. how badly you tripped so many **** times you ....got in the way of your own remise each time you fell you looked UP expecting help when all the while the answers lay at your feet: [your own mistakes are authentic and real; you try to fox-tread out but trying to turn your back on a ***** called destiny - equals catastrophe personified oh, she WILL beckon you back with her crooked finger most kindly to ensure no overdue lessons wait too long.....] *the ants crawl on so slowly* S T, Wed 10 July 2013
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77
I haven't seen her in years My shining star My guiding light My happiness My remise My angel She saved my life
0
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 7:52 AM UTC
My Angel
I'm taking the time out to say that over the years my hair will gray so long as this wisdom wise fails compromise so long as the promise lies fails remise so long as our love cries I'm taking the time out to say that over the years our hair will gray Despite the way I feel today.
0
Apr 23, 2011
Apr 23, 2011 at 10:33 AM UTC
Mellow DRAMATIC
Oh as the grass does grow And the river does flow When I hear the wind blow It is then that I know How He has made me More unique than the tallest tree More precious than the daintiest of bee More close than that of the morning breeze It is then that I see How it is all his fame That by his vein And in his name And with my shame It is then that I proclaim How He has kept his promise Being the one who is sinless Loving me when I did not want his kiss He found me in my remise It is then to see this Wonderful Lovable Merciful Unshakable The One who was and is And is to come Who was then And then was done He is the Son Of the One who made all to come You know his name He is without blame But yet he came To take away all the shame And give us his first and precious name. He is Jesus
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Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 10:58 PM UTC
Then.
The bed against the wall near the crucifix on the wall above the bed and a small lamp on the bedside cabinet, et sonus campanae, time to rise and prepare for Matins opened the shutters over the windows to catch dawn's 5am light, and she said come back to bed I want you to make love to me again, George in the toilets getting water in the jug for absolutions but said nothing because of the Grand Silence, Dio parla nel silenzio the Italian monk said after Mass as we walked from the church, sunlight came and went as we walked along the cloisters after Lauds, O Lord help me to be pure but not yet Augustine(saint) said, I wondered that as I washed down the walls of the sluice room after Terce smell of bleach in my nose, la remise de soi à Dieu the French monk told me as I helped tidy the sacristy before Sext and lunch stomach moaning, she was small but she had this way about *** that was tireless, Hugh spoke of his father's visit and his father thought he'd make abbot but he left years later and married, the bell tolled in the cloister the French monk held the rope as we entered for lunch and grace prayers and readings by the reader maybe Cromwell's life, hablar y Dios te escucha the Spanish monk said the rain fell as we waited for Vespers and I saw a rainbow, it is easy to forgive a child who is afraid of the dark but the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light said Gareth quoting Plato on the lawn as we ate tea and biscuits, to walk with God or in His shadow looking for light even in the darkest night.
0
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC
THE DARKEST NIGHT MMCLXXI.
The bed against the wall near the crucifix on the wall above the bed and a small lamp on the bedside cabinet, et sonus campanae, time to rise and prepare for Matins opened the shutters over the windows to catch dawn's 5am light, and she said come back to bed I want you to make love to me again, George in the toilets getting water in the jug for absolutions but said nothing because of the Grand Silence, Dio parla nel silenzio the Italian monk said after Mass as we walked from the church, sunlight came and went as we walked along the cloisters after Lauds, O Lord help me to be pure but not yet Augustine(saint) said, I wondered that as I washed down the walls of the sluice room after Terce smell of bleach in my nose, la remise de soi à Dieu the French monk told me as I helped tidy the sacristy before Sext and lunch stomach moaning, she was small but she had this way about *** that was tireless, Hugh spoke of his father's visit and his father thought he'd make abbot but he left years later and married, the bell tolled in the cloister the French monk held the rope as we entered for lunch and grace prayers and readings by the reader maybe Cromwell's life, hablar y Dios te escucha the Spanish monk said the rain fell as we waited for Vespers and I saw a rainbow, it is easy to forgive a child who is afraid of the dark but the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light said Gareth quoting Plato on the lawn as we ate tea and biscuits, to walk with God or in His shadow looking for light even in the darkest night.
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75
"Can I borrow a blanket, there's a chill in the air that won't subdue. Frosty windows give view to a blistering storm and chances of clearing anytime soon are remote. The lonely don't need to be cold as well, lest they **** over altogether and parish into the frothy dust. Blue lips that can't kiss away your pain, await at deaths door, with a blank stare of horror. Toss it this way baby, before the fate of it all, falls upon you."
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Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
Winter's Remise
Cette sensation de plénitude, Cette sensation qui je l’espère deviendra une habitude, Tout en restant inconnue à la routine, Qui pourrait en écorcher la saveur exquise, Je l’ai déjà ressentie sous la brise et l’humeur florentine, Plusieurs fois, n’est pas inéluctablement synonyme de partie remise, Une sensation divine, cette fois s’est emparée de moi, Une expression divine émanant d’une déesse en qui désormais je crois, La paume de nos mains, hier, nous a révélé ses secrets, Ce n’était rien par rapport à tes incommensurables attraits, Je m’allongerai plus **** en imaginant la prochaine fois, Rêve ou réalité, peu importe au final, L’ivresse et l’allégresse, souvent s’accompagnent de ce suc royal, Qui, ruisselant dans nos veines fait glisser les parois De nos inhibitions qui nous enferment et nous mettent à l’étroit. Cette sensation de plénitude que j’ai ressentie avec toi, J’ai besoin de la revivre pour conforter cette pensée, Cette expression si futile « jamais deux sans trois », Pour une fois, suscite en moi un désir que je ne saurais réprimer. Voici en quelques mots ce que j’ai ressenti, Ces quelques lignes pour exprimer mon avis.
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Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 5:12 AM UTC
Plénitude
My Angel I haven't seen your near for all our years My shining star My guiding light My happiness My remise My angel You saved my life And made our life
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May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 8:27 PM UTC
My Angel, My Love