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"smoothened" poems
Creature of myth, you have to be real I know you're there, I know you exist Can't see nor touch but indeed I feel That should suffice to say the least No one I know has seen this mythical creature I stand by my beliefs... I simply just do... This being unknown to aged texts or ancient scriptures Allow me to document, I'll keep it true *"A magnificent neck that tapers into a head Much like a halo, wearing a luminescent crown Azurite for eyes like many have said A golden mane majestically cascading down Almond shaped face, with cheeks slightly scaled In the centre were dimple-like nostrils From it's mouth, a voice; demure and frail Speaks in verses from a time frozen still Within the cage right under its chest I know that calmly there lay beating A huge, magnanimous heart does rest Embedded deep within a physique so beguiling Its spine is perfect, as if forged by a divine mould Limbs are long, but with gait so light Non terrestrial wings that into nothing they fold Stretched around is smoothened skin milky white"* That is all I have got to offer so far Matched the words to my mind's bewitching visage No one has seen it; thus ensured that they cannot mar In my head will forever be etched the image Creature of myth... Please be real Know that I am blinded, I just want to see Not for the others, you don't reveal I do believe... I just need to convince me...
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Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
Creature of Myth
this is not the path I wanted to go this is not how I wanted us to grow I’ve been down this path once before to know this is the feeling of tumbling down a rabbit hole what have I done or rather, what have I let happen I said I wanted us to stay pure please please don’t push me down the rabbit hole I said you don’t know how hard it was for me to find my way out the first time and you don’t know I haven’t been home since haven’t smoothened out creases in this rumpled white dress haven’t found how removing these stains work and yet, here I am, again you know, mud stains on this white lace seem fitting you took my hand and led me down the aisle an aisle I knew I’d walked before I recognised the rotting leaves the trees that seemed to wail “you should leave” I knew soon we would arrive at the rabbit hole I never pushed you away, only said please white rabbit, I should’ve known you were the white rabbit entranced by pocket watches only counting hours ticking off seconds and watching time closely this is the hour you will take me by the hand this is the minute I fall for you this is the split second before I say “I do” white dress, you chose this for me, white rabbit just to see at the altar how I would look in white but sullied “I still can’t believe how you look next to me, just like a strip club bedroom scene” we used to be so decent mud stains, creases, the only things sincere about me right now white rabbit, you knew the exact moment I would fall down the rabbit hole again
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Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
rabbit hole
this is not the path I wanted to go this is not how I wanted us to grow I’ve been down this path once before to know this is the feeling of tumbling down a rabbit hole what have I done or rather, what have I let happen I said I wanted us to stay pure please please don’t push me down the rabbit hole I said you don’t know how hard it was for me to find my way out the first time and you don’t know I haven’t been home since haven’t smoothened out creases in this rumpled white dress haven’t found how removing these stains work and yet, here I am, again you know, mud stains on this white lace seem fitting you took my hand and led me down the aisle an aisle I knew I’d walked before I recognised the rotting leaves the trees that seemed to wail “you should leave” I knew soon we would arrive at the rabbit hole I never pushed you away, only said please white rabbit, I should’ve known you were the white rabbit entranced by pocket watches only counting hours ticking off seconds and watching time closely this is the hour you will take me by the hand this is the minute I fall for you this is the split second before I say “I do” white dress, you chose this for me, white rabbit just to see at the altar how I would look in white but sullied “I still can’t believe how you look next to me, just like a strip club bedroom scene” we used to be so decent mud stains, creases, the only things sincere about me right now white rabbit, you knew the exact moment I would fall down the rabbit hole again
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37
She is the last of her Frailty, that shadow Of girl interrupted, The whole of her burned Like a great scar on a heart She once knew. The anamolous woman In another world, A woman used and left behind, Though one cannot recognise Her face, through her Demeanor she tells of another life. And she declared war With a ravenous intention On building great walls, Insurmountable And with no doors She leaves but a window For him to find And glimpse what she guards. He will fall for her And break like water against The rock, The jagged rock never smoothened And the walls will shake At the oscillating moment, She will see a silhouette of frail And timid creature, She will sedate the emotion And the walls will grow taller, The embodiment of independence In a story lost to the pain, She will walk the earth In a stir of echoes past, The walls shimmering dark glow, And the woman scorned does roam.
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Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
And The Woman Scorned Does Roam
the air swelters as i remain static and my chest has become the shoreline where the sea of your breast heaves in and out in a vicious tide your impulsive moans are the roar of waves as they crash against me but your rage lulls into a sensual surf the fluid undulations let us fully appreciate the carnal curves of protruding skin the untouched stones smoothened on my strand and the floor of your ocean yet you pacify even further before your waters still and rest calmly in steady breaths on my elated sands
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
coastal harmony //
“Julio is sweet Julio is smart Julio is a sweetheart” Julio is Julia’s love Julio and Julia both are Portuguese Former for namesake, latter at heart Julio’s America born Writer he is but no ordinary Languages French, Portuguese, German, Spanish All flow through his soul Virtuoso is the word they use to describe his artistry And it was for one of his poems that he won Julia’s heart Poem was 'Meu Coração' Recited it was in Lisbon, Portugal Near a beautiful eye catching lagoon On a sunny busy day; Julia vividly remembered Today was the day they stole each others' hearts That is what led to this decision Of trying a poem for her beloved But the catch was she was trying to write in English Her English was even worse than their old Spanish janitor But she was not one to shy off from challenges So she tried one more time- “Julio is sweet Julio is smart Julio is a sweetheart Julio makes me smile Julio makes me laugh Julio makes me blush Julio makes me warm Julio is my love Julio is my heart Julio is my heart” The poem to her seemed terribly plain but effective And no matter how hard she tried It felt as if the words were stapled in her brain And then she jumped like a kangaroo As the doorbell rang Put on her slippers and hurried towards the door Opened it and leaned forward to kiss him gently She always knew when Julio was at the door He was her Julio, her desire, her dream Smiling at her, his eyes home to the bluest sea They kissed again and this time more slowly Letting the magic settle in the air more properly Julia went to the kitchen and brewed some coffee While Julio went to shower and as he removed his shirt He saw a paper on the bed, bent he to hold it in his hand And the lines on his face smoothened and turned into a nostalgic smile Julia was busy making espresso Julio’s favorite When Julio entered , the somehow, roulette shaped kitchen With a paper in his hand on which stretched Julia’s curvy handwriting “Oh! Wrote that poem for you I titled it ‘My Heart’ Not very flamboyant, simple like you Hope you’d appreciate my hard work” Said she, as if the words were sewn in her heart Then all of a sudden both erupted into laughter Laughter filled with a sweet secret each beheld Lucky enough I was to have known their little secret Years ago, similar words had crusaded Julia's heart Near a beautiful eye catching lagoon; On a sunny busy day in Lisbon, Portugal. ~Manu M.
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Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
'My Heart'
“Julio is sweet Julio is smart Julio is a sweetheart” Julio is Julia’s love Julio and Julia both are Portuguese Former for namesake, latter at heart Julio’s America born Writer he is but no ordinary Languages French, Portuguese, German, Spanish All flow through his soul Virtuoso is the word they use to describe his artistry And it was for one of his poems that he won Julia’s heart Poem was 'Meu Coração' Recited it was in Lisbon, Portugal Near a beautiful eye catching lagoon On a sunny busy day; Julia vividly remembered Today was the day they stole each others' hearts That is what led to this decision Of trying a poem for her beloved But the catch was she was trying to write in English Her English was even worse than their old Spanish janitor But she was not one to shy off from challenges So she tried one more time- “Julio is sweet Julio is smart Julio is a sweetheart Julio makes me smile Julio makes me laugh Julio makes me blush Julio makes me warm Julio is my love Julio is my heart Julio is my heart” The poem to her seemed terribly plain but effective And no matter how hard she tried It felt as if the words were stapled in her brain And then she jumped like a kangaroo As the doorbell rang Put on her slippers and hurried towards the door Opened it and leaned forward to kiss him gently She always knew when Julio was at the door He was her Julio, her desire, her dream Smiling at her, his eyes home to the bluest sea They kissed again and this time more slowly Letting the magic settle in the air more properly Julia went to the kitchen and brewed some coffee While Julio went to shower and as he removed his shirt He saw a paper on the bed, bent he to hold it in his hand And the lines on his face smoothened and turned into a nostalgic smile Julia was busy making espresso Julio’s favorite When Julio entered , the somehow, roulette shaped kitchen With a paper in his hand on which stretched Julia’s curvy handwriting “Oh! Wrote that poem for you I titled it ‘My Heart’ Not very flamboyant, simple like you Hope you’d appreciate my hard work” Said she, as if the words were sewn in her heart Then all of a sudden both erupted into laughter Laughter filled with a sweet secret each beheld Lucky enough I was to have known their little secret Years ago, similar words had crusaded Julia's heart Near a beautiful eye catching lagoon; On a sunny busy day in Lisbon, Portugal. ~Manu M.
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63
The jagged edges of rocks Get smoothened by flowing water Yet, the broken mental edges Cannot be soothed by the flowing emotions Holding on to life, hanging from a precipice Not aware of the surrounding, but mental agony Blurry eyes and senses, leaves you forlorn Donning a black cloak, coalescing with darkness Oblivion beckons with enthusiasm To make you a part of the lonely journey Travelling with a heavy load of denials Yet, the rebuttal, becomes the only truth
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Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 3:24 AM UTC
Agonized Mind
I get fleeting glimpse of the skies whenever I glance at her eyes I see the stars entwine,twinkling,dancing to the rhythm of your heart. breathing new air into my lungs Which certainly rejuvenates me back to life. Cover my scars with words that spell out "you'll be fine" synonymously as a tattoo would promising me eternal shine. I could've been sceptical and believe my eyes have seen a mirage due to the paths in the past whereby a candle went out in the long run and introduced me to the dark. Comforted me with a smile that ignited your aura. Smoothened my tongue with that honey that sourced of your thoughts that are floral.
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Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 3:24 AM UTC
The Girl With Galactic Eyes: Walking Dream Alive
Once I caught a teardrop, I put it to good use, I sealed it in a bottle and sent it to my Muse, She wrote a little song, heart broken and forlorn, And from one tiny tear, my first verse was born. Once I caught a frown, I put it to good use, I crumpled it like paper and sent it to my muse. She smoothened all the furrows, gave it back to me, And from my petty anger, she gently set me free. Once I caught a smile, I put it to good use, I gave it little wings and sent it to my muse . . With a twinkle in her eyes, I could hear her say, With laughter in your heart, may you find your way. Once I caught a thought, I put it to good use, On my white winged horse, I flew right up to my Muse, With a knowing smile, she held my eager hand, She gave me a prayer, wisdom to understand. And when, in gratitude, I thanked my feathered Muse, She gave me a quill and said, ‘Put it to good use’.
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Oct 19, 2023
Oct 19, 2023 at 11:49 AM UTC
I SENT A TEARDROP TO MY MUSE
Life’s nothing but a rough road When you care to only see the hateful thorns, Digging the grave for all joy and peace. ***** you caress not the beauties the rose adorns, The smoothened grass, the birds that sing on trees! Life’s nothing but a weary voyage When you care to only struggle in sorrow, Sailing on your tears that seem to forever flow. Fool, you fail to admire the streaming stars that follow, The wandering wind, the ocean that with mysteries glow! Life’s nothing but a blank black sky When you care to only lose and mourn, Being devoid of all stars, beauty and bliss. Idiot, you care not to greet any ecstatic dawn, The clouds that float, the rays the waves kiss! Life’s nothing but nothing When you care to only cry and cry and rot, Bearing all pessimism and shunning all peace. Fire your spirits with every smiling thought; Feel free to flame on in all ecstasies! Feel free for optimism's the true life! Pessimist! To go forth in life, go forth with life!
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May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 7:51 AM UTC
Addressed To The Pessimist
Molten Running Hardening Goldens Welding Strengthening Heat emitting Steaming whistling Sinking repetitively Emerging each time Lacking that youthful glow Replaced by the reflection Of my toil given to me Losing the heat of the moments Leaving it all behind It could only last so long And here I am Smoothened by the love only I could Give me
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Sep 14, 2023
Sep 14, 2023 at 12:24 PM UTC
What once was
*chiseled out of rock the sculpted woman was an instant hit! her large unblinking eyes held a mystical hint her full lips stirred an untrodden passion her stone-carved ******* were forbiddingly alluring her smoothened rock skin was strangely inviting! they gaped awestruck the rocky woman full blossomed radiant in all her curvature a beauty divinely distant beyond the periphery of touch! they fell in love with each part of her for sometime and when her wholeness eluded immersed her!*
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Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 8:02 AM UTC
Rocky Woman
1996 When news of his would-be death arrived, his body sterile in white cloth, serene his was, his finest stupor – clinging on to a drip of life, his tongue a strawberry his mother recounted, forcing him into, his senses dulled, it was 1996: else there was understanding, there was a hand in a hand that is a latticed rose of beauty – or unbeauty, the high prayer of it, they sat in front of the room facing a mute wall for days weeping or laughing. The rustling of the daily paper broke silence not news – his dearth was sure. no more almost was when he went sharply in a field of grass, his shredded amusement received by an unfolding – it was his years sideswiping him later on, his indices of age revealing an undulant postscript to which there were imaginary sky-portfolios and a particular representation of a smoothened end of a smoking gun he held now, years after, years later on a portion of it his mouth pressed on a lover’s, and a footnote hidden deep within his pelvis: come back here when laden
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Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
Kawasaki
The hands that cared for the sick and the blind    were pierced on a cross The hip that bent down every time it saw a beggar    was punctured with a spear The eyes that wept each time He saw someone in pain     was bloodshot with pain and suffering on the cross The legs that raced to help someone when they were in agony,     was now nailed on the cross and made immobile The voice that smoothened a fevered brow     was now a voice crying out in desperation to His father from the cross The head that was always thinking about sinners like me     was now bearing a crown of thorns The power that turned water into wine for all      was now pleading for water, but was given a bitter gall The heart that gave love without discrimination      stopped to beat to save you and me from eternal condemnation!
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Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 2:41 AM UTC
Passion for a Reason
We were walking, the painter and I, Across the plain and towards the hill. The moon had waxed into her glory Causing the zephyrs to sigh. We rested awhile at the foot of the rise Nestled in a comfortable silence. The night moved on languid feet Passion hidden under a serene guise. We took the path on the dark leeward My golden quill our only light. The painter promised a spectacle And anticipation fueled my climb Cherry Blossoms swirled in the wind, As we stood on silver bathed ground. A man stood at the edge of the hill, His hands on the railing, waiting. Under the tree he stood. The flowers hiding the wrinkles Of his suit and his skin. His gaze fixed upon the moon. My friend and I sat against a boulder And waited with him. The wind whispered with the flowers And the Sakura tree sang to the night. The song was impossible, Yet hear it we did. Violins and keys, flutes and harps - A haunting tune of longing. And as the song rose, A woman stood beside the man; A bride clad in a moonlight gown, Her veil of starshine trailing behind. The man took her hand, And the woman drew closer. And groom and bride, They danced among the flowers. Wrinkles were smoothened Trembling hands strengthened Faltering feet trode sure And wilting heart bloomed anew. Happiness perfused the air. Cruelly brief the phenomenon would be - So the man knew, and chose to forget. He held on to the past and danced. We sat there, intruders and fools, Too ashamed to look on, Too enthralled to look away, Until sleep hid them from our eyes. The melody rains with the petals, Tears dance with the smiles. The waltz of the weary hearts Lasts as long as the moon.
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Jun 17, 2025
Jun 17, 2025 at 8:38 AM UTC
Travels Of A Dreamer 7 : Dance
We were walking, the painter and I, Across the plain and towards the hill. The moon had waxed into her glory Causing the zephyrs to sigh. We rested awhile at the foot of the rise Nestled in a comfortable silence. The night moved on languid feet Passion hidden under a serene guise. We took the path on the dark leeward My golden quill our only light. The painter promised a spectacle And anticipation fueled my climb Cherry Blossoms swirled in the wind, As we stood on silver bathed ground. A man stood at the edge of the hill, His hands on the railing, waiting. Under the tree he stood. The flowers hiding the wrinkles Of his suit and his skin. His gaze fixed upon the moon. My friend and I sat against a boulder And waited with him. The wind whispered with the flowers And the Sakura tree sang to the night. The song was impossible, Yet hear it we did. Violins and keys, flutes and harps - A haunting tune of longing. And as the song rose, A woman stood beside the man; A bride clad in a moonlight gown, Her veil of starshine trailing behind. The man took her hand, And the woman drew closer. And groom and bride, They danced among the flowers. Wrinkles were smoothened Trembling hands strengthened Faltering feet trode sure And wilting heart bloomed anew. Happiness perfused the air. Cruelly brief the phenomenon would be - So the man knew, and chose to forget. He held on to the past and danced. We sat there, intruders and fools, Too ashamed to look on, Too enthralled to look away, Until sleep hid them from our eyes. The melody rains with the petals, Tears dance with the smiles. The waltz of the weary hearts Lasts as long as the moon.
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52
I always did fantasize about our diverse earth; Its freezing stones in the fridges of the Arctic and Antarctic landscapes. The idyllic playgrounds on the quiet sands of the Mediterranean Sea banks, The amazing sun baked plains of the smoothened Sahara brown, The tropical Haven of humid air, where the golden sun awakes in a fair and bright morning, and sets at even with its magnificent crimson smile. What a cozy feeling can its temperate climes bring; with its sheer abundance of Clement weather. A paradise indeed of ambient mildness. I long for the warm gardens of Eden’s residues, with their ebullient and lush tropical green. How pleasant it would be to cascade down the many waterfalls in an imaginary and wonderland fashion. To go atop the zenith of each mountainous heaven from which pinnacle point you have the panoramic view of your own vanquished plains. I once disappeared into the wind, in a midsummer night’s dream to see my global fantasies come true. And like a boisterous eagle, I glided high to the heavens for this global and utterly delightful bird’s eye view.
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Sep 23, 2023
Sep 23, 2023 at 3:14 PM UTC
My Global Panorama
My mind's drifting further back to the memories we had when I was yours and you are mine the time we said " I love you" under the midnight sky the time we were under those shady tree and secretly kissed Our story it was like the stories told by those television romance we watched before it was so magical it made me blind blinded by our blossoming love Back then I was a blind maiden smoothened with your touch is all it takes for me to melt in your arms yet, I was a fool to believe that forever was for us Our story it was a foul play of fate we were not destined together and it broke our hearts to pieces.
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Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 8:20 AM UTC
Under.Those
Her eyes shine bright Standing out in the crowd She stands out beautifully against the docks Walking so swiftly Across the rocks The rocks are jagged Smoothened by her touch If you think you can catch her Your out of luck I tried to catch her eyes While she looked my way I saw her walked towards me I started to sway She ran into my arms I held her real tight She looked up to me I could tell she didn't want a fight I held her close to me I held her through the night We watched the stars light up I felt happy and calm She did too We finally kissed In front of the moon We took our time I felt her swoon I looked into her eyes They stood out a lot She stood out greatly Against the whole lot
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:35 AM UTC
Eyes Like the Stars
softly spoken he and me gentle kind always our vibrations aligned in smooth rythym we syncopate to each others peaks and f a l l s a binding occurs smoothened signalling on rippled water from pebbles dropped moonlight dances on repeat repeat shimmery light in perfect oscillation undulating with varifocal denotation * * * * * nebulae burst high above as if to celebrate this love a coupling made binary orbiting stars he is to me my magnetar ~~~~~~~ as for fresh pastures lush new beginnings blade upon blade from fertile seed lays a soft green pathway to true loves garden where hearts are freed past well trod paddocks across faraway seas where love lays waiting on her gentle knees * * * * * ©J.C. tiger-baby 11/08/2019 4.44am
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Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 12:51 PM UTC
binary stars (in perfect orbit)