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"serenely" poems
Paris;this April sunset completely utters utters serenely silently a cathedral before whose upward lean magnificent face the streets turn young with rain, spiral acres of bloated rose coiled within cobalt miles of sky yield to and heed the mauve of twilight(who slenderly descends, daintily carrying in her eyes the dangerous first stars) people move love hurry in a gently arriving gloom and see!(the new moon fills abruptly with sudden silver these torn pockets of lame and begging colour)while there and here the lithe indolent ********** Night,argues with certain houses
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18.6k
Paris;This April Sunset Completely Utters
In frames as large as rooms that face all ways And block the ends of streets with giant loaves, Screen graves with custard, cover slums with praise Of motor-oil and cuts of salmon, shine Perpetually these sharply-pictured groves Of how life should be. High above the gutter A silver knife sinks into golden butter, A glass of milk stands in a meadow, and Well-balanced families, in fine Midsummer weather, owe their smiles, their cars, Even their youth, to that small cube each hand Stretches towards. These, and the deep armchairs Aligned to cups at bedtime, radiant bars (Gas or electric), quarter-profile cats By slippers on warm mats, Reflect none of the rained-on streets and squares They dominate outdoors. Rather, they rise Serenely to proclaim pure crust, pure foam, Pure coldness to our live imperfect eyes That stare beyond this world, where nothing's made As new or washed quite clean, seeking the home All such inhabit. There, dark raftered pubs Are filled with white-clothed ones from tennis-clubs, And the boy puking his heart out in the Gents Just missed them, as the pensioner paid A halfpenny more for Granny Graveclothes' Tea To taste old age, and dying smokers sense Walking towards them through some dappled park As if on water that unfocused she No match lit up, nor drag ever brought near, Who now stands newly clear, Smiling, and recognising, and going dark.
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18k
Essential Beauty
Before I first met u, I was really fine, For the world was still bearable, though not often really nice. Encompassing new experiences Though seldom they were mine, the fate so ingenious, in it's mysterious design. Before I first met u, I was still just fine. In truth, it was lonely, though I didn't mind. had taught myself to be reserved, And not think of anything as mine. Why bother, I reasoned, when it's just a matter of time. Before I first met u, I was almost fine. Searching for little happiness, Knowing it ain't easy to find. Wondering where things went wrong, Or when it would ever be right? It's destiny, I told, and slept long & scary nights. But then I first met you, I wasn't nearly fine. My heart it skipped a beat, though not because of any reason right. Not knowing what was in store for me, I wondered way ahead, Not bound by any reasons, coz where would our worlds collide? And yet when I first met you, there you sat in front. Infecting all those around you, with your cheerful mirth. Your smile so heavenly beautiful, my words would not suffice. A form so serenely peaceful, that the days not quite as bright. But when can I meet you again, my mind would often dream. To touch ur beautiful lips, life's not long it seems. And yet there are boundaries mortal, those don't easily break, But moments when we hold together, by far the best till date. when I meet you again, my heart would always seek. To hold u in my arms so, the world not in our midst. Our destiny though undecided by what we may think, Yet if it's at all possible, you are all i ever need.
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
Before I first met you
Before I first met u, I was really fine, For the world was still bearable, though not often really nice. Encompassing new experiences Though seldom they were mine, the fate so ingenious, in it's mysterious design. Before I first met u, I was still just fine. In truth, it was lonely, though I didn't mind. had taught myself to be reserved, And not think of anything as mine. Why bother, I reasoned, when it's just a matter of time. Before I first met u, I was almost fine. Searching for little happiness, Knowing it ain't easy to find. Wondering where things went wrong, Or when it would ever be right? It's destiny, I told, and slept long & scary nights. But then I first met you, I wasn't nearly fine. My heart it skipped a beat, though not because of any reason right. Not knowing what was in store for me, I wondered way ahead, Not bound by any reasons, coz where would our worlds collide? And yet when I first met you, there you sat in front. Infecting all those around you, with your cheerful mirth. Your smile so heavenly beautiful, my words would not suffice. A form so serenely peaceful, that the days not quite as bright. But when can I meet you again, my mind would often dream. To touch ur beautiful lips, life's not long it seems. And yet there are boundaries mortal, those don't easily break, But moments when we hold together, by far the best till date. when I meet you again, my heart would always seek. To hold u in my arms so, the world not in our midst. Our destiny though undecided by what we may think, Yet if it's at all possible, you are all i ever need.
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27
Outside, the snow is serenely falling its illuminated resplendence vying with that of the full moon suspended in the silent night sky. Inside, it is just as silent the only sounds the occasional spark and crackle of the logs in the fireplace. And two hearts harmoniously beating. Wisps of smoke coyly rise from the sandalwood incense gracefully whirling in the air like dervishes, the room redolent with the fragrance of serenity As I repose on the couch, your head upon my lap, you hold one hand against your rhythmically beating heart; while with the other I absently play with your hair. There are no thoughts, only heart thinking. There is no speech, only heart speaking. There are no words, only heart spilling. ~ You slowly rise from my lap and look through my eyes and into my soul. When I come to speak, you gently place a loving finger against my lips, whispering “shhh“ Time revolves all around us, yet within us — stillness; the silence palpable. Our souls become one with the other, with the tranquility of the night, with the gently falling snow. Our breathing falls in sync to a rhythm known only to the cosmos. At the end of our inhales, there you are. there I am. And then you speak.. three words.. Three words that contain the universe within them: “This is bliss“
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Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
Inaudible Seduction
When out of a clear sky, the bright Sky over Japan, they tumbled the death of light, For a moment, it's said, there was brilliance sword-sharp, A dazzle of white, and then dark. Into the cavernous blackness, as home to hell, Agonies crowded; and high above in the swell Of the gentle tide of the sky, lucid and fair, Men floated serenely as angels disporting there.
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9.9k
August 6th 1946
Clouds don't lie.  They tell the truth wherever they may go. Their shadows give relief to creatures down below. They change their forms and colors the chameleons of the air. Majestically, they soar above to play with angels there. They weep to nourish growing crops and bring the snow and hail. A crown of lightning lights their heads before the coming gale. Clouds can ride the jet stream like a wrangler on his steed, Then float serenely on the breeze and other cloudlings breed. They soak up sunset, changing hue, vermilion, saffron, gold... Then soar to higher atmospheres to frolic in the cold. Free to roam the open sky, they mock the earth-bound horde And blithely glide upon the wind, no passengers aboard. Oh, how I'd like to take a ride upon a breaking dawn. But clouds don't lie, and so deny, a chance of getting on. Unpretentious are the clouds.   They care not for our awe. They graze upon their crystals and are quite above the law. The mysteries the clouds have kept since Mother Earth began... Are kept behind the truth they tell, as part of heaven's plan.
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May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
Chameleons in the Air
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling place. And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!
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9.7k
She Walks In Beauty
In this life you will find Degradation unavoidable For it is in the weather of our life Degradation is like radioactive waste We pass like presents to each other The rain on a wedding day As I did once live In the shadows of dread As degradation breathed on me And I fell into the pits of self doubt And stank of slimy sewers For I was lost in loathing , But my soul grew rapidly In the muck and mud of this world For it was fertile and rich As my roots drank up all its goodness So please send me your degradation Your disrespect and contempt Your pretty wrapping of best interests Makes no fool of me For I will soak it up like the sky above For I embrace my madness And caress her beauty Like the most cherished lover As you reject your life Within the tight confines Of your own reason As you seek to bury your Disappointments in me I hold your self doubt in my hands For you live by scales and ranking As I throw away all scales And burn all efforts For there is nothing I can take from this world So please, please Strain if you must Look down on me If you can, As I am above For I own the sky And live above and beyond But all degradation disappears In the softest heart Of self acceptance As I fill the room All banter falls like the softest snow As we serenely dance and play In our snowball games As I learn to swing and play All jokes bounce and tickle The inside of my belly For I live in the ecstasy Of my own self acceptance As we roll around like clowns All barriers broken Our bellies full of joy As we spill over with love And bounce around like jelly For no degradation exists In the center of our hearts Where God permeates our souls For his love should be Followed into us whole As I accept God's goodness And perfection in all of me
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:06 AM UTC
DEGRADATION AND SELF ACCEPTANCE
In this life you will find Degradation unavoidable For it is in the weather of our life Degradation is like radioactive waste We pass like presents to each other The rain on a wedding day As I did once live In the shadows of dread As degradation breathed on me And I fell into the pits of self doubt And stank of slimy sewers For I was lost in loathing , But my soul grew rapidly In the muck and mud of this world For it was fertile and rich As my roots drank up all its goodness So please send me your degradation Your disrespect and contempt Your pretty wrapping of best interests Makes no fool of me For I will soak it up like the sky above For I embrace my madness And caress her beauty Like the most cherished lover As you reject your life Within the tight confines Of your own reason As you seek to bury your Disappointments in me I hold your self doubt in my hands For you live by scales and ranking As I throw away all scales And burn all efforts For there is nothing I can take from this world So please, please Strain if you must Look down on me If you can, As I am above For I own the sky And live above and beyond But all degradation disappears In the softest heart Of self acceptance As I fill the room All banter falls like the softest snow As we serenely dance and play In our snowball games As I learn to swing and play All jokes bounce and tickle The inside of my belly For I live in the ecstasy Of my own self acceptance As we roll around like clowns All barriers broken Our bellies full of joy As we spill over with love And bounce around like jelly For no degradation exists In the center of our hearts Where God permeates our souls For his love should be Followed into us whole As I accept God's goodness And perfection in all of me
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A delicate sillhouette, agile and elegant, sweet and unique. Almost playful, she slides over the water so majestically, Even if the whole world were to drown in the deep blue sea, all her hope would gather into the motivation to move forward, burst forth. Oh wind, carry me out of this sea of tears, of bottomless sadness. Sail towards the coming future, sealed doors can be broken open, What hope does the future hold for one who survived but couldn't protect her friends, going down alike the sun, slowly slipping away, Even the azure beauty beyond us is filled with danger and misery, But I will stay positive, for it is you my little breeze who is gently holding me, letting me sail with you through thick and thin. Leave the waves behind you, swiftly like a shooting star but proud like an eagle in flight, but warm alike the ray of sunlight. As the sun rises, the clouds have drawn a picture in the sky over us, Quietly, serenely, you live with determination in your heart, when all freedom and light, ego and deception have become lost in this world. Trailing over and over, with irrigular gaps I caught a smile in this clear water for the first time of our long journey. It is for you, my dear Shimakaze. ~ Umi
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
Island Wind
Gemini in seasonable  evening, serenely swirling in Septemberous ferris wheels reeling in the vast domain of lonesome leviathans and witch-fires; nowhere bound in the boundless fecundity [ the feral joys of creation... ] twins meander in gravity's well of souls, swollen with unknowns and proteins; golden rods in pointless foam brewing the elixir vitae in the Dippers cup. the Milky Way, a wayward gush from an ancient Mother Goddess, plump and shameless, pumping teats to nurse worlds infused with divine rays of gamma and x... why set dark apart from firmament burning spheres? dragons must clutch eggs in the void as much as fork tongue white dwarfs. of course, the Source unfolds as  Love does. it's purpose, in thrall of fearless veracity, spinning yarns for glad garments to clothe the naked dread of such fearful symmetries as roam the wild delights of the infinite meringue. the Pi on the window sill, tempting the circular frame of reference to square with the sublime Will. another Fibonacci in your bedpost, to better hobnob with broomsticks. everything annihilates hatred. from within, we sojourn to sovereign super-continents of opulent peace. profound realities surge serpentine with Meaning. we are outdone on the inside by small minds and farcical hearts. so at night look up. Love's Tongue Is Love's Word.
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Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC
Love's Tongue Is Love's Word
Secret wish stands hidden in cliché riddled green patch this neon bird mocks red capped garden dwellers serenely seated bookish girl half-dead fern leans towards hot pink beacon salvation bent crescent moon casts feathery palm shadows with curved arms against the bamboo fence lifting earthbound desires skyward.
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Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
Pink Flamingo
Hey, remember that time at the dock? The jellyfish floating serenely beneath our feet, Their pinkish hue, transparent in the black water. My feet dangled off the edge, yours dangled further, But the gentle waves caressed the jellies below us still. They drifted by, not knowing nor caring of us, Yet we watched their careless path. The cool night's wind ushering them along their way. Hundreds of blush-colored jellyfish just out of reach, Sliding silently out to sea.
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Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
Jellyfish
Prescient, her essence Casts a demure persuasion,                 Endowed with verve and vision; Concept to consummation, The serenely possessed, Creator, originator, Allusion to the eternal azure, Logos of abstraction, Word and image collision. Tonal palette of faith infused reason Beauty and sublimity, Serve to season Verse, canvas and film, Mediating aesthetic, seminal senses blossom, Lyrical each permutation, Seeds of vibrant chroma diffusing the mystical. Visage and hair,  her figure haunted With perfection - a work of Art Nurtured and lived invocation, The canon of taste; Crystal for the ***** Devotional fragrance , Holistic ethos, melodic invention, Animated, pure - The embodiment of redemption. Transcending form, parenthetically   (Merely) the decorative,   Allure, artistry and symmetry Superlative complexity, Her erudition satiates, supplanting Winds of constructive banality. Purveyor of an uncommon savor, She collaborates in the peculiar Pursuit and reward, Encounter  with depth, explored, Human and divine, prosaic meets sublime Igniting within an Eros Passion for truth, being and Telos. Visionary of grace and peace Transforming our earthbound dissonance; Our caprice, Hope and abundance, the myth of scarcity, She narrates the Good. Pen, lens, color and stage Vulnerable, unrepressed, effusive Romantic articulation, The reservoir deep, Innately primed conduit of Love. Beyond plebeian, cosmetic, the trite Woman of substance, pulchritude And delight. Effervescent - her smile exquisite, Eclipsing suffering, Wordless expression, understood language. I am transported, my imagination replete, Sonya Rose - Art personified; unabridged, complete. ©2008 & 2013 W.S . Warner
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Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
Sonya Rose
Prescient, her essence Casts a demure persuasion,                 Endowed with verve and vision; Concept to consummation, The serenely possessed, Creator, originator, Allusion to the eternal azure, Logos of abstraction, Word and image collision. Tonal palette of faith infused reason Beauty and sublimity, Serve to season Verse, canvas and film, Mediating aesthetic, seminal senses blossom, Lyrical each permutation, Seeds of vibrant chroma diffusing the mystical. Visage and hair,  her figure haunted With perfection - a work of Art Nurtured and lived invocation, The canon of taste; Crystal for the ***** Devotional fragrance , Holistic ethos, melodic invention, Animated, pure - The embodiment of redemption. Transcending form, parenthetically   (Merely) the decorative,   Allure, artistry and symmetry Superlative complexity, Her erudition satiates, supplanting Winds of constructive banality. Purveyor of an uncommon savor, She collaborates in the peculiar Pursuit and reward, Encounter  with depth, explored, Human and divine, prosaic meets sublime Igniting within an Eros Passion for truth, being and Telos. Visionary of grace and peace Transforming our earthbound dissonance; Our caprice, Hope and abundance, the myth of scarcity, She narrates the Good. Pen, lens, color and stage Vulnerable, unrepressed, effusive Romantic articulation, The reservoir deep, Innately primed conduit of Love. Beyond plebeian, cosmetic, the trite Woman of substance, pulchritude And delight. Effervescent - her smile exquisite, Eclipsing suffering, Wordless expression, understood language. I am transported, my imagination replete, Sonya Rose - Art personified; unabridged, complete. ©2008 & 2013 W.S . Warner
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**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy. As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures. Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being. Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the spunk. If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself. Fuck your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses. Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge. Cock sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man. Nevertheless let this not ********* you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion. Touch yourself. To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches. Neither be cheeky about ****** ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist. Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness. Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity. But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings. Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness. Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself. You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end. And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should. Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** intercourse. With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory. Stand pert. Die in the attempt to be boozed up.
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Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
Desiderata
**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy. As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures. Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being. Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the spunk. If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself. Fuck your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses. Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge. Cock sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man. Nevertheless let this not ********* you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion. Touch yourself. To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches. Neither be cheeky about ****** ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist. Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness. Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity. But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings. Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness. Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself. You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end. And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should. Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** intercourse. With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory. Stand pert. Die in the attempt to be boozed up.
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1
Here I am; waiting, Waiting for an old friend On a deserted Railway Station. She’s late; knew she would be. Time behaves differently in Such public places; very differently. I stood waiting alone, Then a gaggle of women Clattered up the subway. Stilettos and thick, heeled boots, Beating out an echoing tattoo, On the broad, concrete steps. Now we wait together, Myself and a Hen Party. Blending of emotional alloys Fused together, forming Excitement; then I see her And all heads turn to look. Amongst the flower boxes, Silence blossoms on the Platform as my old friend Glides serenely into the station, She’s late; knew she would be Even so, she’s on time for me. Steam unfurls around her, Billowing majestic clouds Crowning this, ‘Queen of The Rails’, last seen when I was a boy, now in manhood Her unsung glory is truly revered. Steel wheels clatter, a rhythmic Tattoo, then she draws to a halt. Old friend from a previous age Escaping through to this century, Thronged by beautiful women, I Smile, and step aboard a true beauty. ©Paul M Chafer 2014
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
Old Friend
Note the time by seasonal migration return of osprey, eagle each feathered pearl a moment strung on the banded necks of brants and loons velvet-lined memories gathered within my threatened wild spaces raindrops find their way home watch them bead on the backs of sitting ducks serenely surfing sibilant waves silkily filling oceans within my tumultuous wild heart
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Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 10:11 AM UTC
Pearls
Blessed  with matchlessly magical Parents, Their supremely good, serenely happy raising, design our thought processes. Their loving, comforting storytelling skills, leave indelible footprints  and heartprints. Thankyou God for this Benedictory Love!!! Blessed with a bombastic Brother, self-styled natural, perennial itinerant, Sentinel of sisters life-long. Sentiments flow unabatedly, for our illustrious, boisterous beloved younger. Thankyou God for this Blissful Love!!! Blessed with delicate darling Sister, who wears expressions benignant perpetually. Wiitty, gritty, easy-going habitually. Evident protected favourite of all surely. Fondest moments born in her queenly company. Thankyou God for this Harmonious Love!!! Blessed with solicitous Husband, His silent romanticism, macho protective ways, smoothen tumultuous paths. Terribly correct and sober better half, Brokers peace, plots life's happiness graph. Thankyou God for this Angelic  Love!!! Blessed with an endearing Child, Whose arrival, auspicious, momentous and miraculous, Rearing the divine and sublime born, definitely, a definition for the guardians. Our child, our panacea, promise of better tomorrows. Thankyou God for this Supreme Love!!!
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Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 2:06 AM UTC
WHOM WE LOVE AND LIVE FOR !!!
I don't know if you're alive or dead. Can you on earth be sought, Or only when the sunsets fade Be mourned serenely in my thought? All is for you: the daily prayer, The sleepless heat at night, And of my verses, the white Flock, and of my eyes, the blue fire. No-one was more cherished, no-one tortured Me more, not Even the one who betrayed me to torture, Not even the one who caressed me and forgot.
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3.1k
I Don't Know If You're Alive Or Dead
Such Waste! When I leave the tears flow, Whilst at home I know, Smile inside, Behind green eyes, Knowing that you painted it, Hiding in visage, A pretty happy place, Since you stumbled sadly, Into disarray by chance, Know we may be together, Only sometimes, In times choice, Simple speck, Entirely! Share heart space, In grace, Ingratiated, Grateful for your time, Twitters float as hummingbird, Miniscule flirts with love, Serenely talented, Awaiting touch of serendipity! We can never be in honesty, Maybe, Honestly guided, Through duet of crazy lives! A bond so definite, So infinite in style, Captured, Fondness, Much more than fondness, Snatched in my warm heart, Your smile, Laced, While tactile tenderness prevails! Pen pushes while we drift, Alive in sleep, Dark pens kiss, Fire and ice, Pleasantries, Not always, Always filled with spice, Diurnal in eternal writes, Divagated by his own diversity, A writing fuelled fellow, Filled with deviance! Character presented, Is just soul tormented, So classically unreal! By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
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May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 5:47 AM UTC
Such Waste!
~ *It lays silkenly sweet against sun kissed skin tiny straps, perhaps strapless delicate linen softly draped tender tiny tucks and nips delicious bows tied at nape It cascades around curvy hips ‘round a waterfall that slightly drips sprightly colors all wink as they whisper and swish full of giddy and laughter, they flirt away gloom, rain and mist Teasing touches wraps around thighs dancing daisies pause as I walk by serenely skirt and brush past with a soft wispy cushion sway plump full, recline, pause to chat on a sultry summer’s day* ~
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Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 9:34 AM UTC
Sundress
Hot springs across the valley from the backdrop of the emerald green forest wall.   Fog rolled in thicker and thicker with every passing minute bringing with it a stillness and a calm.   A sharp strong beam of light cracks the night and falls against the forest backdrop.   Little more than a slit of light really, penetrating through the fog and carrying with images disturbing of creatures great and small   Creatures that had long sharp teeth, creatures that had heavy huge paws and fast long legs.   Funny creatures and sad creatures too went calmly and serenely  galumphing through.   Shadows here and shadows there shadows on that emerald  green see of forest falling before my gazing eyes.   Puppets dancing at every command as if they were controlled by the trees them selves.     We see em there standing waiting in the dark knowing around the next sliver of light another will be.   Are we creating them the puppets or is the forest really in control, of dancing the puppets we see.   Elephants and Turtles, Bears and Rabbits, Giraffes and Ducks, Tigers and Mice around the next sliver of light.   Oh we watched and were amazed by the shadows dancing on the forest wall and playing in the fog this night,   Shadows made to be filled we filled full of community and strength held by a few shadow puppets on the forest.   Shadows dancing, shadows playing, shadows pouring onto the emerald forest floor.   Shadows lost there way again did they fall out of favor again oh no the light burned out the shadows stopped the hot springs was quiet.   Play with your shadows remember when you made the puppets, out there the puppets where may as well been me as a kid again.   Next time I go into the forest Im bringing my dancing shoes and Im playing with the shadows again.
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Nov 11, 2010
Nov 11, 2010 at 9:09 PM UTC
Shadow Puppets On the Forest
Hot springs across the valley from the backdrop of the emerald green forest wall.   Fog rolled in thicker and thicker with every passing minute bringing with it a stillness and a calm.   A sharp strong beam of light cracks the night and falls against the forest backdrop.   Little more than a slit of light really, penetrating through the fog and carrying with images disturbing of creatures great and small   Creatures that had long sharp teeth, creatures that had heavy huge paws and fast long legs.   Funny creatures and sad creatures too went calmly and serenely  galumphing through.   Shadows here and shadows there shadows on that emerald  green see of forest falling before my gazing eyes.   Puppets dancing at every command as if they were controlled by the trees them selves.     We see em there standing waiting in the dark knowing around the next sliver of light another will be.   Are we creating them the puppets or is the forest really in control, of dancing the puppets we see.   Elephants and Turtles, Bears and Rabbits, Giraffes and Ducks, Tigers and Mice around the next sliver of light.   Oh we watched and were amazed by the shadows dancing on the forest wall and playing in the fog this night,   Shadows made to be filled we filled full of community and strength held by a few shadow puppets on the forest.   Shadows dancing, shadows playing, shadows pouring onto the emerald forest floor.   Shadows lost there way again did they fall out of favor again oh no the light burned out the shadows stopped the hot springs was quiet.   Play with your shadows remember when you made the puppets, out there the puppets where may as well been me as a kid again.   Next time I go into the forest Im bringing my dancing shoes and Im playing with the shadows again.
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Today I had an emotional breakdown In front of a thirteen year old I told her that I just wanted to run away That I experienced the feeling Drapetomania An overwhelming urge to run away I declared that all I wanted to do with my life Was to live in a cottage with the Love of my life Read books and live serenely I don't want stress I don't want this terrible nonsense Called 'matric' And to beg for bursaries from the man with money For a job I may not even enjoy I just want to be happy I want to be loved I want to caress the world with my writing in books And touch individuals with profound poetry Why must I go on with stress Why oh why Must life for an eighteen year old be Oh so difficult I just want to be happy I want to run away To my cottage in the mountains Where my quiet symphony reigns.
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Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Drapetomania
The Room of Dancing Shadows, undulating across the wall, like ****** Persian ballerinas, making no sound at all. Reaching, retreating, a mosaic form, eternally shifting the dark shade. Pictures of no light in a flux, remain fragmented, cold, unmade. Hypnotising, random shapes in black, swim serenely, start to slide. The Room of Dancing Shadows holds its fear deep, deep inside. © Pagan Paul (03/10/16)
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Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
Room of Dancing Shadows
Your sunlight wakes me with a gentle glow Lifting me from the sleep below Your omnipresent blue twinkles serenely While your beauty overwhelms obscenely Each street a new promise of adventures new And distant islands known to few Your water so powerful cleanses all Sweeping under bridges so tall The mystery of your Eastern delight Keeps me with you every night Smoky, silky, rich and heady Always waiting, always ready I rely on you to lift my frown And you have never let me down Cacophany of noise, your urban voice Embodied by life and love and choice Towers on which a thousand summers have shone Here long before me and long after I've gone Five times a day you sing out your chorus Reminder I share you with each grubby tourist But underneath this ancient dome I know you are mine; my City, my home
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Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 11:29 PM UTC
Asya