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"splendorous" poems
*As our dew points match, lead me out into the open moonlight Then take my hand and come with me to share this glorious night Sin smiling Angels look down on us in the night's cocoon Safely sheltered beneath his broad shoulders our bodies completely attune Her pale skin denied The moonbeams as I eclipses them above her Shivering to the cadence of the night with the moonlight as a ****** The cool night air hasn't chilled her warm summer lips The stars reflected in our eyes, each shimmering thoughts a kiss Ethereal night mist rises from our slowly moving bodies His warmth tastes of golden light, dancing to simple melodies Shimmering in dusk's glow the rapture subsides in a glistening shudder Splendorous waves of euphoric flood, as we complete each other as lovers*
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Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 6:55 AM UTC
Under an Angel's Sinful Smile (Collabration with Palmer)
In the sweet of early morning and only for a few precious moments I thought of nothing at all I stared blank at the dim lit walls in a state between awake and dreaming only until the startle of the first bird singing. I saw the sun clinging to roofs and trees light traipsing through the garden lilies I heard the chirp and groan of frogs newly green, all the unfurling fronds and from the broad leaves the dew fell sparkling in rivulets and drank the carpet moss softly green and splendorous.
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Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
Early morning
...that The Goddess has hands of ivory white or black as ebony night, fingers that glisten with the intensity of immensity, of stars, over-flowing with the seeds of trees, scattering them in splendorous openness, across the moist, brown earth, where they'll grow like grass and cause the quenching rains to fall, from the sky made azure 'neath the endless streams and strands of Her hair which is the wind itself.
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Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 1:11 AM UTC
the Goddess, i think
O Tulip Tree, Towering titan true, A fond memory I have Of splendorous ventures long ago! O Tulip Tree, Timid and taciturn, I remember when you, Paragon of the forest, Stood tall with power And eclipsed the noontime sun! O Tulip Tree, Tallest tree that be, I recall when you, Pillar of perfection, Were as mammoth in my youth As you are this day! O Tulip Tree, Tremendous yet tender king, I pray for you, Noble giant, That envious naysayer And usurper alike Stay their distance From your domain! And when the hour is nigh, O Tulip Tree, I shall stand tall with pride Between these vile fiends As you taught me to long ago!
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Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 10:04 PM UTC
A Titan's Ballad
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. Good Morning Beloved It is good to be among you this morning. Let us pray…. Gracious Lord As we sojourn the pathways of life You have brought us to the places Of ecstatic splendorous peaks You have blessed us with resounding joys You have filled us with good things The grace of your unconditional love Is made manifest in the abundant life you have promised to all your children We bless you Lord for your provision And your unfailing unrequited love You have also humbled us Lord With times of perplexing trial, deep sorrows and pointed loss Our earthly journey has led us to places of dread, devastation sickness and pending death Our plans and aspirations Have turned to dust Our eyes fill with tears Our crestfallen hearts have hardened We fail to receive the balm of love We have been routed We have lost the battle We have been conquered by separation, sin and despair The spirit of life Has evaporated From our bodies All that remains Are dry bones Scattered in the valley of death hidden by the shadows In the nadir of our lives Yet your abiding love remains the strong Present Helper calling us to your light May we rise from our Afflictions as Lazarus did when called by his beloved friend Jesus May your grace anoint Our ears with the sound of The Great Resurrectors voice May you stir our hearts With the wisdom of your will May you bless our lips With the grace of prophecy That we may Prophesy to the broken And brittle bones of our lives Prophecy to the bones so they may be joined With sinew and flesh again May your words Become flesh May we walk again In the land of the living And rejoin the beloved At the table of Your abundant grace In The Good Deliver's Name We pray... Selah Music: Eric Dolphy, Come Sunday Readings, Ezekiel 37 The Valley of Dry Bones, John 11, The Death of Lazarus Prayer of the Dry Bones Faith Lutheran Church Lavallette NJ 4th Sunday in Lent 4/2/17
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Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
Prayer of Dry Bones
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. Good Morning Beloved It is good to be among you this morning. Let us pray…. Gracious Lord As we sojourn the pathways of life You have brought us to the places Of ecstatic splendorous peaks You have blessed us with resounding joys You have filled us with good things The grace of your unconditional love Is made manifest in the abundant life you have promised to all your children We bless you Lord for your provision And your unfailing unrequited love You have also humbled us Lord With times of perplexing trial, deep sorrows and pointed loss Our earthly journey has led us to places of dread, devastation sickness and pending death Our plans and aspirations Have turned to dust Our eyes fill with tears Our crestfallen hearts have hardened We fail to receive the balm of love We have been routed We have lost the battle We have been conquered by separation, sin and despair The spirit of life Has evaporated From our bodies All that remains Are dry bones Scattered in the valley of death hidden by the shadows In the nadir of our lives Yet your abiding love remains the strong Present Helper calling us to your light May we rise from our Afflictions as Lazarus did when called by his beloved friend Jesus May your grace anoint Our ears with the sound of The Great Resurrectors voice May you stir our hearts With the wisdom of your will May you bless our lips With the grace of prophecy That we may Prophesy to the broken And brittle bones of our lives Prophecy to the bones so they may be joined With sinew and flesh again May your words Become flesh May we walk again In the land of the living And rejoin the beloved At the table of Your abundant grace In The Good Deliver's Name We pray... Selah Music: Eric Dolphy, Come Sunday Readings, Ezekiel 37 The Valley of Dry Bones, John 11, The Death of Lazarus Prayer of the Dry Bones Faith Lutheran Church Lavallette NJ 4th Sunday in Lent 4/2/17
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86
The first time I heard them I swear, I was to listening to the most beautiful choir in four-part harmony, swaying or angles wings rubbing, & perfectly, playing a common file instrument angled, such a unique sound symphonic & splendorous they are all around this free concert an offering of Mother Nature chiming at once uncaged, & calling on the ladies in perfect unison   sounding like church telling one another of sunlit hours say the flowers fending off evil spirits allowing me to travel into the dark again leaping over obstacles, alerting me to danger, still in their silence   I am protected by this harbinger of luck a most powerful portent, of coming things they sit silently in the quiet, like a copper cricket weathervane, as the poor man's thermometer spinning tales effortlessly, in the wind calmly   watching over us a shivering in the night save you, are mine my Native American totem or God's Cricket Chorus foretelling of Sorrow of coming rains tomorrow ex-lovers and death a shrill creaking stridulating in song Oh, I fear that day, your music should go away please dear uncaged cricket choir   I truly ....    hope you'll stay. Cherie Nolan© 2016
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Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
"The Uncaged Cricket Sings"
Blue flowered in the warm sun of winter pungent fragrance wafts splendorous smallish leaves, grow deeply green with a sun-ward slant they lean hum and sing with bees reaching ever upward wild, their fingers untamed vigorous, they flourish lushly in the lane our hands grow green stained here in a dream field handfuls of rosemary we steal
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Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
Picking rosemary
A transgressional constant, For a world made so pure. A backbone bricked love, For the same world so hurt. Through the history and the ages, A splendorous, scandalous gust. Brought down from heavenly storehouses, To be used by all of us. This back bone bricked love, Holding my soul completely together. Only backbone bricked love, Can help us find each other. Small words past on, As history has died. Say a simple word, Of what really rings inside. One heart beat for another, Two parts sing of a melody. Three simple words they are, yet Four meanings for I love thee! May your love be bricked up like a wall, Strong and lasting never to fall. The backbone for any person to call, Is that of undying love for your all. It's the only thing that's true, Because it's all I can do, I backbone bricked love you!
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Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 9:50 PM UTC
Backbone Bricked Love
also morpheus, thou who art dusted leaves tremulous portraits plaintive angels creaking pinions, wasted paint clanging fatly unskinny corpulent boughs spread deviously; rip carefully sanity: a flagrant splendorous nymph hard arithmatic chime softly a dull pepper in my head: mostly cobwebs and fluff punished grinning skulls my teeths are clean and the smooth hollow of thoughts is a pillow budding dream laid crinkled masterpiece and fill it morpheus with your excellent meat
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Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC
also morpheus,
in love at first sight then life changes moon brighter at night delightful starry night fireflies dance splendorous   make flashes of light and the only thing I know heaven turns into motion a bliss paradise quietly fills the heart and then thrill mind searches stretches to hold like thousand hands to embrace the invisible... yet again, in love at first sight deepest soul tells this is an enchanting insomnia a clear delightful starry night a bliss paradise that fills the heart are not imagination thus, I have now is to believe in you...
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
to believe in you
The dark wet road reflects the neon lights Very fast I drive towards the splendorous Dawn While a poem is emerging from the air
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Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 5:41 AM UTC
A poem is emerging from the air
Days are splendorous, in the royal color wash, and frost, of November. Four thirty is a burning torchlight of reminiscence. November, older, wiser, But similar, in the way that air, is a rustle of crisp leaves, and emotions that, stretch across the horizon, like an autumn parade. Familiar, in the way that, shifting parameters of light, invigorate and disturb. Prodigious, whispering of enchantment, and it's Siamese twin, disillusionment. November, That lingers like a somber melody, or a dense beat, hanging on the evening wind, Whose disruptive energy, is portentous, of wakeful nights to come. That shimmers, and shivers, and sings, sending a mating call, to ravenous winter. November, is a communicable pheromone, am aphrodisiac, A crescendo. The yearly succubus, crowned, in her raucous display, of jewels, Her ingenious distraction, as she drains the world of warmth, and daylight. And I am hallowed. November's champion, riding the dark, like a faithful steed. A cowgirl about town. An outlaw, blown in on a strident wind, Primed to partake, of libation and lechery, because I am restless, and it is too brisk to wander. November is distilled, and flows like hot cider, steaming in the faces, of days it leaves cold. It is one thousand proof, and permeates breath vapor, each small fog, that lingers like an apparition. Shades of November, fettered from dissipation, as winter, in search of answers, clutches at the evidence of its becoming.
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Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC
November's Song
I have this box of splendorous dreams Of tender schemes so filthy-pure ...dreams of dreaming ...dreams of living ...dreams of shining ...dreams of screaming ...dreams of giving ...dreams of dying From it I am taking dreams And forging broken, shattered schemes These dreams, they see And flee through me And I see me and you see thee, And dreams are me as dreams are we Through me, and thee, they dream And with their bodies see me scream And all 'round me, These dreams do shatter stitch-ed seams. These dreams of love and dreams of skies and dreams of loving, living lies, These dreams are yours and his and theirs and hers and its and ours and mine What marv'lous creatures are these dreams who here upon my visage gaze! What wondrous features have they in the light and dark of nights and days! They touch and play and kiss and dance and love and sing and fly and dream! They break and cut and bite and jump and hate and growl and swim and scream! The fire slips betwixt their lips, and by their ears, between their thighs The water dances on their hips and 'cross their fears and in their eyes They glide and gleam across my hand and through my ebbing, whirling mind They drift and fly across the sands, the grains that hold together time They twist and turn so gracefully upon their silken, goss'mer strings And on their tight-rope act of daze they sing and Glide and Ride and Glow and Show and Die and Fly and Mate and Hate and be...and...and... See, I've got a lovely box of dreams Sitting here, So filthy-pure...
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Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
Cinema
I have this box of splendorous dreams Of tender schemes so filthy-pure ...dreams of dreaming ...dreams of living ...dreams of shining ...dreams of screaming ...dreams of giving ...dreams of dying From it I am taking dreams And forging broken, shattered schemes These dreams, they see And flee through me And I see me and you see thee, And dreams are me as dreams are we Through me, and thee, they dream And with their bodies see me scream And all 'round me, These dreams do shatter stitch-ed seams. These dreams of love and dreams of skies and dreams of loving, living lies, These dreams are yours and his and theirs and hers and its and ours and mine What marv'lous creatures are these dreams who here upon my visage gaze! What wondrous features have they in the light and dark of nights and days! They touch and play and kiss and dance and love and sing and fly and dream! They break and cut and bite and jump and hate and growl and swim and scream! The fire slips betwixt their lips, and by their ears, between their thighs The water dances on their hips and 'cross their fears and in their eyes They glide and gleam across my hand and through my ebbing, whirling mind They drift and fly across the sands, the grains that hold together time They twist and turn so gracefully upon their silken, goss'mer strings And on their tight-rope act of daze they sing and Glide and Ride and Glow and Show and Die and Fly and Mate and Hate and be...and...and... See, I've got a lovely box of dreams Sitting here, So filthy-pure...
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*Last night, so enlightening the full flower moon, illuminating somehow brightening our words the sun had gone, taking only the birds leaving the sky of red mars, the alluring stars you and I, naked traipsing through the woods the blazing moon of firelight through the trees a splendorous love potion, we drank the night, celestially*
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May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 10:36 AM UTC
Last night
Hidden behind a myriad of guises and castings of a thousand projected distortions, he brought himself      suspended like a pendant                    detached                  &                     objective. I bequeathed a tumult of love, tumbled down the scope of archaic collective conflict that shook with a spiral quake like the wakening of my hallowed   g  a     s           p - the corridor echoing of the first gallop. Lifted the skirted veils of celestial taffeta, surrendered to the feats and enchantments of The Rider who arrived on a rogue wave, crest and trough and splendorous swells of blue and white, reverberating from essence centre like Doppler outward my firmament fingertips, cascading around the sphere in astral star fall, an overflowing cup of Milky Way and melting atoms into grains of sand between the blended confines of here and                                there, escaped to the ever expansive space, Empyrean emptiness.
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
Empyrean Emptiness
The breeze stretches and cools the season along the country road variegated light, leaf-filtered from trees that lean in rivalry for my eager eyes. Their foliaged arms dangle, then drop an amber snowfall all around as if to awaken me to the autumn creep into my bones that click and tick with each tottery step. Earth awakens me to the beauty in this splendorous season of the gliding swaying passage of life in alteration and spiritual invitation to bathe in the slow current of creation along this road and its cool and bright possibilities.
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Dec 4, 2023
Dec 4, 2023 at 2:09 AM UTC
Walking a Treelined Country Road
Atop the frail ego she mounts her merciless machine gun with which she mows down any speckle of personality that dares flicker amongst her immediate surroundings, until only her presence alone can remain untarnished and unfettered by sadistic, sardonically summarized ridicule, luminous and majestically radiating with solitary supremacy. Oh, the splendorous grandeur of self-indicted superiority, the rush of power and authority from diminishing another's essence with ruthless categorical association, the incomparable ecstasy of using their own positive attributes as their rudimentary flaws. Viscerally volatile, the cocking of the mocking gun's hammer is to be recognized as the phrase "You're just trying to be______". This is critical, for all too well she knows to a certainty that at the most essential level, one is only simply trying to be. And when you attack a person's will to try, their will to be, then you are taking aim at the one vital aspect of their existence which they hold any discernible dominion over: their character. The slaying is heinous and orgasmically fulfilling, for how can the perennial, separatist worship of Self be indulged in among so many of these "others"? But oh how exhausting it must be, the perpetually cyclic nature of the task. How can she ***** a light that doesn't exude from a distant source, but is a brother beam of the source they share? How does she extinguish the reflection of a flame off the water? Like fireflies on summer nights they disappear only to reappear again, somewhere else, reminding her of the irrevocable, irreducible power of being born and reborn again in the new moment. The self-aware ******** audacious enough to love themselves. How much of it do they really think they can withstand? Reload.
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
Identity Theft
Atop the frail ego she mounts her merciless machine gun with which she mows down any speckle of personality that dares flicker amongst her immediate surroundings, until only her presence alone can remain untarnished and unfettered by sadistic, sardonically summarized ridicule, luminous and majestically radiating with solitary supremacy. Oh, the splendorous grandeur of self-indicted superiority, the rush of power and authority from diminishing another's essence with ruthless categorical association, the incomparable ecstasy of using their own positive attributes as their rudimentary flaws. Viscerally volatile, the cocking of the mocking gun's hammer is to be recognized as the phrase "You're just trying to be______". This is critical, for all too well she knows to a certainty that at the most essential level, one is only simply trying to be. And when you attack a person's will to try, their will to be, then you are taking aim at the one vital aspect of their existence which they hold any discernible dominion over: their character. The slaying is heinous and orgasmically fulfilling, for how can the perennial, separatist worship of Self be indulged in among so many of these "others"? But oh how exhausting it must be, the perpetually cyclic nature of the task. How can she ***** a light that doesn't exude from a distant source, but is a brother beam of the source they share? How does she extinguish the reflection of a flame off the water? Like fireflies on summer nights they disappear only to reappear again, somewhere else, reminding her of the irrevocable, irreducible power of being born and reborn again in the new moment. The self-aware ******** audacious enough to love themselves. How much of it do they really think they can withstand? Reload.
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by rgpage nuzzled tightly to his chest she quietly begs him stay, her gentle touch  along his arms says ‘please my love don’t go away.’ her soft lips tenderly touch his mouth with kisses as warm as a summer’s eve. wrapping her tightly in his arms he lets her know that he won’t soon leave. staring wistfully into each other’s eyes as busy fingers silently toil, garments loosened and cast aside, as eager love’s longing begins its slow boil. taking their time and guarding their urges not letting this passion’s moment be lost. to inner emotions brought to a boil so often the payment of love’s urgent cost. with muscles taut he draws her near while inner butterflies stretch their wings. naked bodies as yet unexplored   a course is set toward splendorous things. kissing, caressing, an **** of motion his fingertips track her silky soft skin. his huge hands gently cupping her ******* embarked on an evening of beautiful sin. with a look in her eyes of a young lover’s trance her hands glide o’er his youthful frame.         in time  fingers find their way to their mark his desire’s aroused in love’s youthful game.     to bed now they go with its cool sheets waiting they’ve said that they’ll know when the time is right.    supporting her frame as he lowers her down for them their time’s now as their bodies unite.
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Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 6:42 AM UTC
young love stay
when the sun is sulking she swells like the moon, a sylph bright and naked crescent ribs blossoming in the doorway a bruise like a kiss on the hollow of her hip footprints spot the lawn, there is earth on her feet when she wriggles across the quilt to where I lay she traces the line of my jawbone to the place my ear nestles into my hair and she strokes the crook of my ear lobe there is brine between her collar bones and I drink it in- the salty-tang when we lay afterward, repose, we are splendorous in our sweaty, cavernous bodies. she rises to rinse off. her legs, like a just born fawn’s, tremble with a new found glory and her hips are tender, her thighs bruised raw. my residue shines on the expanse between her ribs and hips and I feel strangely attached to her in that moment, but then she returns to bed and it has passed. I mourn for it, that nameless moment.
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Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 12:19 PM UTC
Bright and Naked
I got you seeds to celebrate What had taken root today And like an annual, with this I say I’ll plant it all again I got you seeds to represent How we’ve weaved our spines And bent— towards one another To grow together, slowly as we went How our round-up ready Slow and steady Romance sprouts its head Giving new life with the price Of growing on the dead I got you seeds instead of flowers (With the hope of daily showers Falling on our head) So that you can watch us come alive And after a year’s time we thrive And I promise you, should we survive, This time next year, I’ll plant it all again. For flowers last a week, maybe, And in all their splendorous glory You only get to watch them die So slowly, it may be. But I say we are more than that So, with this, I tip my hat And tell you like an English chap “Have a jolly good day” Because with a love like this And promise like that And the One we both believe in Why the hell not?
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Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 2:23 AM UTC
Poem for one Year