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"shivered" poems
Her flesh was his canvas his hands spread over her body like paint saturating its canvas emotions surfaced like oil paintings her body shivered dying for his strokes long throws of passion sliding across her body like satin brushes over skin
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May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 9:57 PM UTC
Canvas
“Strange place as if, a university campus. Last week of August, bit chilly though dark afternoon. Some random corridor seats. Surrounded by her loud chirps wrapped with unbidden happiness... and me still in some sort of shock... what am I doing here? Conversation took toll about random university matters, she felt hungry and suggested to have lunch together. So we came out and took a bus towards town to allow ourselves luxury of 'A La Carte'. As we get off the bus cold wind struck us, “Lady shivered and grabbed my wrist with her right hand and same arm with her left, letting herself rest her right cheek on the edge of my left shoulder. My whole existence felt her magnetic presence”. I uttered if she’s feeling cold she mumbled, I took it as a yes so wrapped my blue jacket around her. She responded to the gratitude with a smile and I allowed her grip on my arm to become more firm... so both of us kept on walking towards an undefined destination... and then my 7:00 am alarm interrupted the most beautiful dream i ever had since HER...”
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Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
Alarm Clock!
You looked me in the eye With the same smile you gave me A long time ago. You let me order your coffee for you I knew which one It's still the same From a long time ago. I laughed about the jokes you told me You laughed at how unfunny Mine were And you playfully hit me I frowned, you laughed, I laughed, you laughed again And said sorry Just like you did A long time ago. The worst of it all Was that when your hand Accidentally brushed mine I shivered Just like I did A long long time ago. -- Eleanor
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
A Long Time Ago
Lovebirds An old man sat with patience On the bench he waited for her He smiled sweetly on her appearance Hand in hand they walked together. In the garden full of greens The lovebirds chatted with laughter As if they were in movie scenes The way they looked at each other. He stroke her hair gently Her hair clip he'd bought years ago Still intact she placed it neatly That is the little pink flamingo. Pleasant breeze they enjoyed As they continued walking Her fragile nature shivered In her thin floral dress clothing. He took off his outer layer shirt Naturally putting it on her shoulders She joked about wearing a skirt He thought she was full of wonders. He recalled her bravery She reminisced his sacrifices They've come far in life's journey Counting their little happiness. As I watched from a distance I felt a pinch of sweet jealousy Witnessing true love's existence Yet wishing them to stay as lovely.
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Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 9:45 AM UTC
Lovebirds
the yellow sun was shining down on grass and sand and waves it was a place where children went to laugh and dance and play. as molly ran and wandered off she found a magic thing a deep blue house carved out of stone in which the wind would sing. the other children climbed about and gazed into the cave and johnny said “i’ll lead the way” (because he was most brave) and tad and tommy followed him, for they were big and strong while alice chose to stay outside but molly tagged along. the dark was very chilly and the silence, very wet johnny shivered and looked back but couldn’t leave just yet. now molly didn’t notice: awe and wonder filled her eyes; she found a solace in the stillness, comfort, in the pitch black sky. when suddenly, there came a rustle from a hundred winged things as dark as sin with deep red eyes shrieking just like rusted swings. tommy was the first one out (his long legs made him fast) then john and tad ran into alice and tumbled on the grass. and when the world had settled down, the quiet had returned they saw that one was not around and they became concerned. but don’t you worry, little molly was fine as fine can be as she uttered boldly to the dark: “you never frightened me"
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
some adventure
This salt in the saltcellar I once saw in the salt mines. I know you won't believe me, but it sings, salt sings, the skin of the salt mines sings with a mouth smothered by the earth. I shivered in those solitudes when I heard the voice of the salt in the desert. Near Antofagasta the nitrous pampa resounds: a broken voice, a mournful song. In its caves the salt moans, mountain of buried light, translucent cathedral, crystal of the sea, oblivion of the waves. And then on every table in the world, salt, we see your piquant powder sprinkling vital light upon our food. Preserver of the ancient holds of ships, discoverer on the high seas, earliest sailor of the unknown, shifting byways of the foam. Dust of the sea, in you the tongue receives a kiss from ocean night: taste imparts to every seasoned dish your ocean essence; the smallest, miniature wave from the saltcellar reveals to us more than domestic whiteness; in it, we taste infinitude.
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12.3k
Ode To Salt
Blades of grass shivered As the fingers of the wind strum A hum ever soft and hauntingly serene Sweetest song my heart reluctantly would welcome I stare into the minuscule expanse of land The horizon does not exist far here... But still my eyes would stretch To see the obscured very clear All alone save for the company of a lone tree And the jovial chirps of annoying birds On this island with very little space Trying to find comfort in ill-arranged words My eyes do see but my heart remains obstinate Beauty of the universe would always invite I could just jump and join in its merriment But... I am just a tethered kite I'd want to rise to the highest skies To be one with the nature's song, composed and tuned Alas bound to a string, I can only go so far I am my own island,                       helpless and marooned...
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 7:02 AM UTC
Marooned
Sometimes maybe the dreams should go away --What do you dream about? Last night I dreamt I journeyed into that dark part of the city where even hard-armed truck drivers refuse to unload alone. It was late. Street lights knifed the false dawn and wet sidewalks shivered off shards of glass. Perhaps I had come there for a pack of cigarettes or maybe I had a message to deliver. It was dark. I was dreaming. I knew I was dreaming. When they met me outside at the bottom of the long ramp and told me all the stores were closed, then I could see the bars across the door and the sign that said, open at seven. It all seemed too obvious but I had found some friends and they didn't seem to mind the long walk back to my car. This was only a dream, after all, so it came as no surprise how my blood drenched the dark pavement. I waited for flowers to bloom or butterflies to rise from the spot, but nothing happened. I think I killed them then, but it's not clear how I got to to the soft lights of an all-night drugstore and cuddled up between the rows of witch hazel and staionary supplies. --Is this what you dream? This is what I dream. I have yet to find a satisfactory substitute for the warmth of sleep, so I dream.
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
What I Wrote While The Computer Was Down
And the fire burns cold." "What?" He whispered, eyes wide. "It's true," She whispered. She cried. She shivered. "There's no warmth by the fire's side." "I'm the fire." He murmurs. "Yes." She replies.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
Camp-fire Talks
I took Death out to dinner last night, dressed up in my favorite costume. Dripping diamonds and champagne tear-ducts-- I clogged my pores with soggy make-up. We wined and dined and wore out our shoes-- I told him my secrets He nodded and listened. We shuffled down side-streets and looked into mirrors-- I shivered in darkness He drew me in nearer. His body a bone-yard Lovely but broken-- I heard his soft breath I felt fingers stroking. But crawling back homeward Aching and tired-- We parted by day-fall I watched him shrink inward. With farewell promises to meet again soon-- I swallowed the sunrise, I cursed out the moon.
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
The Dinner
The night descended upon the day Inhaling the goodness Smothering Murderous Diseased and dark .Mankind swallowed down the perverse evil and sickened Desperate for the emotions once felt No longer remembered That will once more warm and quicken Dead jaded hearts, Rose from their bank's angry rivers Now rocky dry brooks The ocean overcame the land Islands sank to sea beds below The earth furious heaved and split The coals of the sleeping volcano's were lit Humanity shivered in moldy damp caves Counting their once thought endless days No longer gods of the earth Of green rich ground Or untouchable stars The world was falling apart This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Oct. 8, 2014
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Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
The World was falling Apart
Dad woke us up in sheer excitement Brought our attention to the window... Listen he said, “to the sound of the wind”, “The wind is blowing in the same bare place” Look! he said...its snowing... Beautiful white pearls.. “look outside”. my brother shouted with joy!! Snow! Snow! The snowflakes are falling from the sky... Winter! Snow time!! We hugged and danced in the freezing night.. We boys ran down to the lawn.. Carpeted with satin smooth snow.. Lets do it bro.. a snowman just right here.. Do not to think of any misery Of the piercing cold wind... That bites the skin ... Violent cold of winter that eats our flesh and bones.. Did we care? In a few hours or so.. There stood our snowman.. We both laughed while we shivered.. Funny looking SNOWMAN... scattered about the ground, in the white landscape, wet and cold and waiting This FUNNY Snowman we remember the most...
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May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
SNOWMAN
Bare feet Teared clothes Eyes with tears Consoling her fear She was ***** Broken and burned Still people taped Her parents told her You'll be not married Nor have kids It's better to be silent and mild Her voice being shivered Shouted! If my words Will not shout Rapists voice will be loud World will make me choose Tough honor or life I have nothing to loose Nothing to loose People may refuse May repel my voice But i being robbed And justice is what I wanna eloped ♥️
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Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 12:36 AM UTC
Womens♥️
like a stone you fell, stars on your lips, out of the dark, like a bird carrying the sky. i stretched towards you my soul singing of meadow grasses and old ruins. everything you touched became a flame, joy burnt like a fever beneath your wings. i ran to you, shadows drawing back the night like a curtain. oh, the echoes of a pounding heart, across hills, across continents, you strided on the wind until the sea shook out its sheets and the leaf shivered on the branch. the night settled its layers of black into dark forests, rested against the glassy tide and you were gone, you were gone, lost to hair more fragrant than mine.
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May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
like a stone
setting myself down on an anvil pillow. sleep is an anvil pillow. anvil and stone are a suicide dressed in 8 hours of mini-Godheads.. you become a repeat offender in the ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt you lay across your sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula.. by electronic firelight they lay on my leather couch with the scraps of bedding I could afford to share, as if for some reason I can't escape the money analogy and see this, too, as a transaction.. buying.. a transaction.. as transfat is to nutrition.. money is tao.. my hate for money is tao.. I'm a love-and-lost buddhist like every other dreamer before me. I'm tired of giving myself a ******* All I ever give myself is a ******* I refuse to bend over and at least try to give me a ******* or go to the next level in love and **** myself. I keep telling me to do it. Keep grabbing my own *** during passionate tongue-twisters but I keep on insisting that I just CAN'T go any further.. rationally I may be right, but irrationally I still get shrieks of jealousy because I see that ******* sneaking out to kiss girls all the ******* time* as if I didn't exist. As if I wasn't always watching. I stalk myself. It's a terrifying state of affairs. No matter where I go, there I am. Watching. One night, I invited me over, and as usual, I gave myself a ******* yet refused to go any further. This was the straw that cracked the camels back.. and come 4 AM I kissed myself softly on the forehead as I slept and slipped into the night, hailing the first taxi to sail past me on the concrete river. I awoke slowly the next morning and.. still dazed.. noticed I was nowhere to be found. A great grief flooded my solar plexus and moved into my hopeless bones. I had not even left a note. What a ******* I am! I had not even left a note. The rest of the day was spent in sordid grievance. I shivered, lonely, under my ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt I lay across my sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula..
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Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
self-love
setting myself down on an anvil pillow. sleep is an anvil pillow. anvil and stone are a suicide dressed in 8 hours of mini-Godheads.. you become a repeat offender in the ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt you lay across your sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula.. by electronic firelight they lay on my leather couch with the scraps of bedding I could afford to share, as if for some reason I can't escape the money analogy and see this, too, as a transaction.. buying.. a transaction.. as transfat is to nutrition.. money is tao.. my hate for money is tao.. I'm a love-and-lost buddhist like every other dreamer before me. I'm tired of giving myself a ******* All I ever give myself is a ******* I refuse to bend over and at least try to give me a ******* or go to the next level in love and **** myself. I keep telling me to do it. Keep grabbing my own *** during passionate tongue-twisters but I keep on insisting that I just CAN'T go any further.. rationally I may be right, but irrationally I still get shrieks of jealousy because I see that ******* sneaking out to kiss girls all the ******* time* as if I didn't exist. As if I wasn't always watching. I stalk myself. It's a terrifying state of affairs. No matter where I go, there I am. Watching. One night, I invited me over, and as usual, I gave myself a ******* yet refused to go any further. This was the straw that cracked the camels back.. and come 4 AM I kissed myself softly on the forehead as I slept and slipped into the night, hailing the first taxi to sail past me on the concrete river. I awoke slowly the next morning and.. still dazed.. noticed I was nowhere to be found. A great grief flooded my solar plexus and moved into my hopeless bones. I had not even left a note. What a ******* I am! I had not even left a note. The rest of the day was spent in sordid grievance. I shivered, lonely, under my ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt I lay across my sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula..
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✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿ ***In wonder of the world of her mysteries sitting here dreaming alone I wandered over a hill one day seeking expecting nothing and she appeared like a vision shimmering perfection mysterious mirage*** *I had been admiring for years the beauty of his heart I had watched from a distance never letting myself become apart,   there were times    he would approach      the top of the hill       always stopping         and turning back        my pounding heart      would then painfully still.     I sent him dreams   of a sweet first kiss sprinkled visions of starlit bliss then one day by the touch of grace I looked up to find us standing face to face.* ***I saw her in dreams before here she was standing growing over the hill the whole time always she had been there I had just not gone forward enough I stood in awe and she like a tulip shivered*** *dreams, now reality love floods this heart of mine I stand in awe of beauty, so magnificently divine the essence of love whispered and I, like a tulip     blissfully         shivered…* ✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿
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Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC
“like a tulip” A Poetry Weave Written Between wordvango & Brianna Love
Taste me with all of your senses Inhale my essence......breathe me in deep..... Darkness pressed against hunger.. Sliding my tongue, I drew it in like a feast Savouring the taste as it passed my lips... Shadows cast silken threads Screaming desire! Spinning silken webs around my body, Searing my skin, as hot breath spilled itself Against my salted flesh... Moisture and heat fused, Savage, pulsating, lingering, where wicked hovered Sleek, against my heart’s beat... Black satin shivered beneath wildfire hips; Slow dancing a sweetened heat, Writhing beneath the shimmer-gleam; As I lay for him, lathed by the parched desert of his Relentless tongue...wearing me wet.... I moaned across his taut flesh, Strewn beneath the sliding wander of skin thrusts, Drowning in a plum-dark eclipse of heat! Where tenderness lay opened for him... Teasing breaths rushed kisses between thighs Quivering, Wanting to break free, the restraints, Stretching my body beneath his tasting.. I felt the essence beating ****** tempo's, Passion succumbing to insatiable need; And I gave him my body's silk-white, Trembling under the furtive delirium of our fever... The fierce moon eclipsed A serum to slide my quickened breath; And his eyes watched, deep in dark, unchanging depths, As I lay naked in his arms....................
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Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
Dark Desire:
The grass was clear in the moist of the ruins moat Twas dawn and all this hike, not even a city I could sight The plains were sheer as the white satin coat I've seen Clash, a clustering view from mountains down to hills Shaking knees as I rise to pick up my bed of sheets Then the breeze swept as I shivered to its grasping chills Distant peeks; unbridled stallions are troubled free The sunray spots the verge and brightens the darkest end At lost in the moment, a nature's sage of imagery blends A brown wren swiftly glides upon to rest at my tent In the midst of the day like rain in June and blooms of May Swans, Geese and white petals dancing to a bluish bay Solitary to be, but with the rivers overflowing symphonies We'd sing hymns to delight in an afternoon galore A steadfast rhythm clinging as I walk with God alone Euphoric army of billows cascading, a purple-orange scene As I idle in the view of fields depicting a justful liberty To smile and remember someone cared with all is please Singing crickets and fireflies we're all a friend of mine At eve I rolled endlessly, frolicking at the midnight meadow Casting joys and crowns as the moon beams a silver line To the hinterlands, life's a breeze and everybody twas at ease An escapade I was wanting to get lost from life's reality Meeting pauper's, gazing wonders, then we'd all fall asleep
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Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
◦ To the Hinterlands
I saw him with new eyes. Gay eyes. (Though, these eyes have always been gay eyes.) I noticed his long nose, a slide for the sweat that took the ride down landing where his foot had once been. I noticed his hair, a wildness of blond, Going this way That way No way. His eyes of the sea darted this way That way No way. I shivered as the sea breeze touched me whenever he looked my way. I noticed his smile. A smile that pulled at my ****** muscles so I could grin. Yes, I saw him. With new eyes old eyes Gay eyes
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Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
Gay Eyes
"Let's rob a fuckin' bank." we agreed. "Let's rob a fuckin' bank!" indeed. You know that's against my rules But the thought of doing it with you makes it acceptable. **** these feelings. **** that dream. We didn't rob a ******* bank but we danced and you whispered and I shivered then woke up. The brush of lips replay in my head over and over and over again. Why do I fall for my friends? I fall so hard yet in the end I get nothing in return but the weight of gravity and the floor of reality showing it was all pretend. I know there's nothing wrong with me. You just don't feel that way. ... maybe you do- Maybe I'm just not cool enough. But I'd rob a bank with you.
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May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
Hormonal Shame is to Blame.
I know what you were expecting. You can’t remember the last time you met my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I believed a word Out of my own mouth. I shivered in the dark and you thought I was crying. You held my hand in the car. Just to keep me upright I was drunk and Stumbling I was so ******* angry At you and everyone else. I forgot what listening to music alone felt like. I forgot how we are the mistakes we make More than the questions that come later.
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Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
Airplanes (II)
I stood outside watching the rain slowly melt from the clouds My porch let me step onto its short pathway, for it knew my thoughts I stood there and looked up at the sky, being guarded by the small roof above me I watched as the rain fell silently to the streets and listened as it hit the bushes I kept waiting for it to change I kept waiting for it to change me For it to wash away something deep inside me I wanted it to wash away any hurt Wash away the insecurities Wash away the denial Wash away the sins Wash away the thinking of “You’ll never feel the touch of someone in love” Wash away the scars Wash away the memories Wash away the impurities Wash away I stood waiting but the rain still poured on my outstretched hands My hands opening to God asking,”Why me?” The hands of a woman who has never felt the hands of a man in love The hands that can make me whole once more As I stood watching the lightening soar across the sky and the thunder gently hum I wondered “Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?” I shivered and stood waiting for the rain’s response None came; the only response was the silent tread of water heading toward a gutter Funny, just like my life, always fighting against gravity to stay clear of the gutter Shivering I stepped back inside and heard a small clink of a piece of broken glass I held it, amazed, wondering if my life would end this way In the hands of a tiny piece of melted sand I looked at its tiny iceberg shape I turned it and it suddenly transformed into a misshaped heart A heart, like mine, so clear, so ready, so fragile I tossed the tiny love into the air as lightening made its last hoorah Hearing only the distinctive clink as it hit the sidewalk The rain responded joyously as it picked up its pace This was her response Nothing may be real but the rain In the end, sometimes, it’s all we can depend on to wash away our old selves To stand, like an escape from Shawshank; free This was my answer That my tiny glass love lying patiently on the side of the road will someday be picked up and thrown wildly into the wind hoping that it shall find the fingers of a lovestruck current This time instead of a slab of concrete, I shall be there to catch it as lightening strikes my heart I looked up at the tiny roof guarding my head from the cold drops of reality It was then that I decided it was time to take the roof off of my life, leaving me unguarded I closed the door, shivering with a renewed sense of myself I curled under the blanket asking again the same questions that haunted me, “Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?” The rain answered, “Yes”.
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Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
When It Rains, It Pours
I stood outside watching the rain slowly melt from the clouds My porch let me step onto its short pathway, for it knew my thoughts I stood there and looked up at the sky, being guarded by the small roof above me I watched as the rain fell silently to the streets and listened as it hit the bushes I kept waiting for it to change I kept waiting for it to change me For it to wash away something deep inside me I wanted it to wash away any hurt Wash away the insecurities Wash away the denial Wash away the sins Wash away the thinking of “You’ll never feel the touch of someone in love” Wash away the scars Wash away the memories Wash away the impurities Wash away I stood waiting but the rain still poured on my outstretched hands My hands opening to God asking,”Why me?” The hands of a woman who has never felt the hands of a man in love The hands that can make me whole once more As I stood watching the lightening soar across the sky and the thunder gently hum I wondered “Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?” I shivered and stood waiting for the rain’s response None came; the only response was the silent tread of water heading toward a gutter Funny, just like my life, always fighting against gravity to stay clear of the gutter Shivering I stepped back inside and heard a small clink of a piece of broken glass I held it, amazed, wondering if my life would end this way In the hands of a tiny piece of melted sand I looked at its tiny iceberg shape I turned it and it suddenly transformed into a misshaped heart A heart, like mine, so clear, so ready, so fragile I tossed the tiny love into the air as lightening made its last hoorah Hearing only the distinctive clink as it hit the sidewalk The rain responded joyously as it picked up its pace This was her response Nothing may be real but the rain In the end, sometimes, it’s all we can depend on to wash away our old selves To stand, like an escape from Shawshank; free This was my answer That my tiny glass love lying patiently on the side of the road will someday be picked up and thrown wildly into the wind hoping that it shall find the fingers of a lovestruck current This time instead of a slab of concrete, I shall be there to catch it as lightening strikes my heart I looked up at the tiny roof guarding my head from the cold drops of reality It was then that I decided it was time to take the roof off of my life, leaving me unguarded I closed the door, shivering with a renewed sense of myself I curled under the blanket asking again the same questions that haunted me, “Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?” The rain answered, “Yes”.
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*Upon a cold winter's night, on the snowy path they wandered. Deep in the forbidden forest. The wise old owl that lived in the tall oak was watching as he sat on a branch. Old pine,remain hollow. He hooted to the indifferent wind: Who?Who? But it did not reply, only whistling was heard while the pinecones shivered. The first was dressed in silver, and her sister dressed in gold. He stared into the moon, seeking the truth. So he discovered the stars twinkling down upon them, through the pine needles. Brown wings of once lost light, wisdom spoken by the night's silence. And into the darkness they went, The wise and the beautiful...*
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Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
The wise old owl