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"sway" poems
My sea is far away, let's meet somewhere closer, under the same cloud. My blue water is for the sun. I sing beneath the waves. My rose is for the show. I am imbued in the fragrance. Love is in the air; the scent wafts into my heart. My sky is open wide, beyond the rainbow on high, beyond the peacock's eyes. It embraces the earth, reaching far and wide. As the wind blows along the way, flying beneath the endless blue, a mesmerising sight from the bird's-eye view, a butterfly slips out and begins to sway!
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Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 11:11 PM UTC
Beneath The Blue Butterfly
A thousand and one sunrise painted the first light time and again. Yet it gets lost vanishes in one twilight. Millions of stars witness that it gets pitch black. But one doesn't lose the sight, one doesn't lose the sway! Still, the night hooks the Moon in the dark.
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Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
The Moon in the Dark
Sometimes the day smiles shows me its colour. No, then the wild blue yonder doesn’t look to be far I feel like I got the wings to fly. But who would sway away when the rose under the nose floating on a sea of colour? The luminary punter too drops down from the sky. Paints the broad daylight as it sails down on its silky way. Ah, the southern breeze bends with the rose of the day peeps in the colour before my eyes. I could only see missing my butterfly.
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Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
Missing My Butterfly
There once was a young man named Feste, and he was not a very good young man. He was a thief, and a sneaky one at that. He would go to all of the stores in the market and steal anything that he pleased. He loved to steal from the baker and the butcher especially. He would go to his hiding place in the forest after his deviousness and eat away his stolen treasures, brooding on what a “clever little boy” he was. The baker and the butcher knew though. They noticed him coming in most days and leaving in quite a hurry. They could not actually catch him in the act, but they knew beyond a doubt what he was doing. They were having drinks together one night though when they devised a clever scheme to stop him from stealing ever again. The butcher carved up a juicy ham, and the baker baked up a delicious pie, but they added a little something extra to it… The butcher made sure to quite a bit of alcohol into the ham, and the baker did the same with his pie. They both set their two traps in the store, right when the spoiled thief Feste came strolling into the market with his eyes gleaming. The baker watched him walk into his shop,the pie disappeared. The butcher watched him walk into his shop, the ham disappeared. They both smiled and went about their work. Feste rushed to his hiding place and devoured his stolen goodies so fast that he didn’t even realize how peculiar it seemed to taste... Not long after, he started to feel strange. Numb and stupid. He ran towards the village, acting a buffoon. The villagers stared and laughed at Feste acting so odd. His mother found him though and brought down the fury. “Feste! Why are you acting like a **** fool?" She demanded. He threw out a few words in a drunken stupor and swayed in place. "Wait.. have you been drinking!?” She screamed. “Noe maum! Allll Ie had todae is pie and haam!” He stammered in a drunken sway. “And where exactly did you get those!?” She inquired. Feste had a look of terror on his face and grew silent. He was found out to be the no good thief and was punished severely, because his mother thought he stole the alcohol as well as the pie and ham, and he couldn’t prove otherwise. Feste never stole again and he even apologized to the butcher and baker, though they still do have a laugh now and then… The End
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Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
The Steal (A Short Story For Children)
There once was a young man named Feste, and he was not a very good young man. He was a thief, and a sneaky one at that. He would go to all of the stores in the market and steal anything that he pleased. He loved to steal from the baker and the butcher especially. He would go to his hiding place in the forest after his deviousness and eat away his stolen treasures, brooding on what a “clever little boy” he was. The baker and the butcher knew though. They noticed him coming in most days and leaving in quite a hurry. They could not actually catch him in the act, but they knew beyond a doubt what he was doing. They were having drinks together one night though when they devised a clever scheme to stop him from stealing ever again. The butcher carved up a juicy ham, and the baker baked up a delicious pie, but they added a little something extra to it… The butcher made sure to quite a bit of alcohol into the ham, and the baker did the same with his pie. They both set their two traps in the store, right when the spoiled thief Feste came strolling into the market with his eyes gleaming. The baker watched him walk into his shop,the pie disappeared. The butcher watched him walk into his shop, the ham disappeared. They both smiled and went about their work. Feste rushed to his hiding place and devoured his stolen goodies so fast that he didn’t even realize how peculiar it seemed to taste... Not long after, he started to feel strange. Numb and stupid. He ran towards the village, acting a buffoon. The villagers stared and laughed at Feste acting so odd. His mother found him though and brought down the fury. “Feste! Why are you acting like a **** fool?" She demanded. He threw out a few words in a drunken stupor and swayed in place. "Wait.. have you been drinking!?” She screamed. “Noe maum! Allll Ie had todae is pie and haam!” He stammered in a drunken sway. “And where exactly did you get those!?” She inquired. Feste had a look of terror on his face and grew silent. He was found out to be the no good thief and was punished severely, because his mother thought he stole the alcohol as well as the pie and ham, and he couldn’t prove otherwise. Feste never stole again and he even apologized to the butcher and baker, though they still do have a laugh now and then… The End
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20
So he said to me one night Submissive is not what's right He said to me one day You've to command and make your way You cannot be quiet You cant be a riot You have to be you And not let destroy'it He calls me his friend Say, when will this end? He says he don't care It goes beyond repair He says I mean nothing Without the slightest grieve "You are my closest" Oh, I wouldn't like to believe But I've known better And not made up a pile Fed it to the skies Never failed to smile I've grown as a human I've grown as a friend He's been a pillar The crave will never end He's helped me in ways Helped find my forte He's helped me mature Never enough to sway But now that he's changed I'm hit by numbing rain Now that all's deranged Major bouts will reign.
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Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
Submissive.
My skin is frying, I can't stop crying, I feel like I'm dying. Your touch soothes my fever, your arms hold me together, your bed is my grave. ...   This flame of desire inside me burning so bright, only you can save me on this night. ... Here I lay dripping with desire, for your arrival to calm my fire.   Fill me, tempt me, push me to the limit, with your burning, chilling touch of Frostbite, Please save me this night! ... Call me your "Good Girl", pet me, Play, withdraw your heat and watch me sway, Please Sir, don't take this blissful feeling away. ... I wait on my knees by your side, Not because I am expected to, but because it is where I feel safest. ... **** me roughly, love me tenderly Strip me bare till there's nothing left, build me up and tear me apart In your calloused hands, I place my tender heart. ...
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Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
Submissive's song
a curved pastry like a prune danish in a sway a weaving kiss anointed by a melting stick of butter, pushed and puddled deep and slow the shape of a heart with a hole in the middle ooow dark fig stinking rose a comfort that sweetens with the grace of form and pops like a trigger releasing a bullet i covet with eyes like erections pants sticky wet hot glue factory for you love, my *** angel red skin girl gaping with circular yearning set in motion tarnished petal mix meister sinful hot house for quaking tongue and lips, a wild cherry *** kisser spiked ***** blushing lord of **** solar ******* hero flexed and oiled to the rescue a god send triumphant and blessed looks like a fast cigarette boat hitting the speed bumps hard she said yes please dip like nautilus of the black sea What? no loitering no parking not a through street haahaahaa **** that ****
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
*** Angel
--- in the crystal water bubbles reflecting there are golden koi in the mossy depth of feathers ancient moonlight is the buoy around the blue-grey stone's alignment sand is raked in perfect poise every leaf has its assignment crickets make a creaking noise --- there within the island garden small and jewel-like in the grove amidst kimono and the obi there's a peace the Nippon know muted colors placid faces the paper lanterns sway and glow the lords and ladies sit for hours where the lotus flowers grow
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Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
lotus
Out here in the fields of the distance whither the wind blows the silence further afield; roughhewn footprints show a windswept pathway   from whence feral feet lightly trod    Only the passing whispers chase after the gypsy wind: that the silence be in quire, placed aloft like a sigh, pealing through the gentle sway of sweet grass' hush There are no walls need echo an evanescent wind-song as each breath of earthen psalm vanishes lilting into the crystalline quietude colour; The callused patience still held in these hands is frayed and tattered, but hope heals stronger than a ream of paper wings to fly away And I'm mindful I'm not alone again, lost in a lingering silent storm — pensively listening — enraptured aneath all the big skies hold                       Jesse Stillwater
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Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 12:44 PM UTC
Out here in the distance
#*Here comes the day With coloured hands and faces To the music we sway Touch not with intentions perverse Its Holy The festival of colours Children Gear up with your water guns and sprinklers Filled with organic colours No chemicals please Look for revellers dressed in all white Drench them all in the hues of the rainbow bright Munch on the Gujia, a sweet treat Time for a rain dance to the desi beats It's time to cheer Spring is right here Happy Holi*#
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Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC
Holi Hai !!!
Exotic petals of yellow, Hot pink and leaves of green A sunrise of baby blues And clouds made of cream. .  A lei of Hibiscus Whiskey and Tequila too A paradise of softheartedness Where the sun will never set on you. Lilac skies in the west Clouds made with a dash of tangerine   A Pink Flamingo guarding her nest A sight straight out of daydreams. The spirits sway   In the shadows of the palm trees So come on down and meet us by the Cay And let all your fears fall away. ad
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 8:27 PM UTC
fake flowers
Ambar ki aftaabi mein muskurata hai tu Samundar ki gehrayeon se gunjtah hai tu al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Darkht ke  har patton mein lehrata hai tu Baarish ki har boond se barasta hai tu al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Har takhayyul mein nazar aaye tera hi kalam Innayat rahe hum pe sada tera bas karam al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Har tassavur mein hai  teri hi tasveer Muqqamal karde ab meri bhi taqdeer al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Har nabz ke tarranum mein gun gunata hai tu Har labz ko mere haathon se likhata hai tu al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Kabool kare meri ibadat mera ye junoon samet le kadmo mein, mil jaye sukoon al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Translation Your smile is in the radiance of the skies Your sounds echo  from the depths of the ocean the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace You sway in every leaf of a tree you are in every drop of the rains the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace behind every thought is your pen continue to grace us always with kindness the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace In every portrait, I see your image help me complete my destiny the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace you are the hum in the melody of every pulse My hands are mere instruments of your every word the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace Accept my worship, and my fervour absorb me into your feet, and grant me peace the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace
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Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
al-Ala As-Salām (A prayer- Hindi -Urdu)
Ambar ki aftaabi mein muskurata hai tu Samundar ki gehrayeon se gunjtah hai tu al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Darkht ke  har patton mein lehrata hai tu Baarish ki har boond se barasta hai tu al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Har takhayyul mein nazar aaye tera hi kalam Innayat rahe hum pe sada tera bas karam al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Har tassavur mein hai  teri hi tasveer Muqqamal karde ab meri bhi taqdeer al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Har nabz ke tarranum mein gun gunata hai tu Har labz ko mere haathon se likhata hai tu al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Kabool kare meri ibadat mera ye junoon samet le kadmo mein, mil jaye sukoon al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām Translation Your smile is in the radiance of the skies Your sounds echo  from the depths of the ocean the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace You sway in every leaf of a tree you are in every drop of the rains the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace behind every thought is your pen continue to grace us always with kindness the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace In every portrait, I see your image help me complete my destiny the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace you are the hum in the melody of every pulse My hands are mere instruments of your every word the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace Accept my worship, and my fervour absorb me into your feet, and grant me peace the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace
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The crowd fades away As chords in every melody Rings in our ears, And shivers downs in our body It vibrates in every muscle A musical fusion Almost everything didn’t matter It’s you, me and the beating rhythm The graceful posture The sway of every gesture It’s a motion adventure. Feeling the adrenaline pulsing through Pervading the entity Beating rhythm pounding, it electrifies the body into graceful art, emancipating the sound of the music Captivating the mind, liberating the young, reckless soul covertly hidden inside an indifferent exterior A freeing beauty of movement to the rhythm A therapy to the mind and body. Dancing to the music, feeling every tune every beat every breath of every movement, with Explosions of Euphoria
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Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
Of Grace and Beauty: Dance
this morning when I opened my eyes the light was breathing the window had a pulse as if I was a body with unmystified senses as if I could see deeper in everything that surrounds me perhaps a remembrance of how difficult it was for me to be in the world with an immense sensitivity to the slightest movement of life around me, how wondeful to attune to the wind, the leaves, the cacophony of beautiful words and deeds, the harmony in the blinking of strangers, the sway of steps on the streets, the collapse of the waveforms of dreams that we called reality how hard to have a mind that might understand eventually that truth is complicated or not for every creature on the walks of life. my essence is vulnerability my strenghts is my weakness for my foolishness there is no cure don't have to look in the mirror to recognize my human face, your human face, their faces late in the night when I close my eyes I see only people, the beauty of the world, the cosmos created through pain, how the morning of the day I was born was there, and everything was already breathing before me and everything will be still spinning its mystery when this excess of life will rob a last breath from me. I know I will be watching the breath of light, how everything gets illuminated when the time is ripe
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Mar 28, 2023
Mar 28, 2023 at 12:37 AM UTC
morning breath
shall i compare you to a pizza pie? you are more cheesy and more temper-hot, as overcooking turns the dough too dry, so summer days cause dough to bubble-spot, sometime too hot the flame of oven burns, and often oven doors keep men away, and pizza guys do wish the pizza'd turn, to cook all 'round with much more even sway, by chance or nature's changing course untrimmed, men eat too much pizza and then gain weight, and no diet can help to make them trim, for they cannot return the slice they ate, so long as men eat pizza, drink coffee, so longer will they sit to crap and ***
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May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
shall i compare you to a pizza pie? (parody of Shakespeare's Sonnet 18)
Does my blackness offend you? Is my hair too curly for you? Are my hips too wide for you? My dark brown skin glows with all the melanin I have been gifted with. My lucious thick hair is filled with curls that bounce with every stride I take forward, away from oppression. My hips sway perfectly with the drums beating in the air of the Mother land. Does my athletism bother you? Is my intelligence too much for you? Are my people beneath you? My athletic feats have been studied by generations of white Americans who have hoped to find an extra ligament in my leg. My intelligence has been the reason for many inventions all over the world. My people will rise above , always have , always will. My people will be given justice where it's due. My people will be heard , just like the drums from the Mother land.
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Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
Does my blackness offend you?
The armor of my heart The light in my tunnel The art on my canvas The sway of my move The rich of my riches He was my brother And I'm his keeper
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
My brother
* * * * * * * * * Faces of friends, of people i met earlier are  glittering stars on this late evening's dark blue sky...their smiles are tattooed in my mind...they're  hunched, going lower by the days...slowed down by years. it must be hard and painful...the arching, the drooping of the neck, the curving spine, they endure all, 'til each day's end...they rise each new dawn...do what they still can do, lest they stagnate in their aging ponds, diminish to a state, where food, pills, or forgotten information are forced on them, ......like drugs, injected into the veins ........................ these wee hours bring back the years... they  have been good...never mind the hard times...there were, there are good ones life is a long, wide stream of changing hues, flowing on and on....my water bears the colors each new day brings...gray, at times with sadness and gloom....other days, blacked by despair...some summers, red, roseate with glee, or green with life and hope...blue, when trust is spilling, and the tranquil sea and sky overwhelm, with a promise of stability..........white, when accepting......the unacceptable... ........................ the amber grains and i, are alike ripened enough to be plucked be pulled out from an existence...the signs are known...shown...yet, i wait for when it is due to happen...and while waiting, the stalks sway, play and dance   and enjoy the sun and wind...and i, while i still can...walk, jump, climb hills and valleys in this mammoth space of land and water.............called life ................... the sounds of my days, i still hear, i am a lute, a harp, a cello...playing off-key.....out of tune at times, my strings are my graying hair, i still can't stop dying the gray i still want to highlight the dark, but, one day, all these will cease... ............ one night, my face will be in one of those many stars...glittering on a dark blue sky sending a smile, to my loved ones. ................... (there is no other way, but forward all are headed towards an end.) Sally © Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan       June 26, 2018
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Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
Late Evening Echoes
* * * * * * * * * Faces of friends, of people i met earlier are  glittering stars on this late evening's dark blue sky...their smiles are tattooed in my mind...they're  hunched, going lower by the days...slowed down by years. it must be hard and painful...the arching, the drooping of the neck, the curving spine, they endure all, 'til each day's end...they rise each new dawn...do what they still can do, lest they stagnate in their aging ponds, diminish to a state, where food, pills, or forgotten information are forced on them, ......like drugs, injected into the veins ........................ these wee hours bring back the years... they  have been good...never mind the hard times...there were, there are good ones life is a long, wide stream of changing hues, flowing on and on....my water bears the colors each new day brings...gray, at times with sadness and gloom....other days, blacked by despair...some summers, red, roseate with glee, or green with life and hope...blue, when trust is spilling, and the tranquil sea and sky overwhelm, with a promise of stability..........white, when accepting......the unacceptable... ........................ the amber grains and i, are alike ripened enough to be plucked be pulled out from an existence...the signs are known...shown...yet, i wait for when it is due to happen...and while waiting, the stalks sway, play and dance   and enjoy the sun and wind...and i, while i still can...walk, jump, climb hills and valleys in this mammoth space of land and water.............called life ................... the sounds of my days, i still hear, i am a lute, a harp, a cello...playing off-key.....out of tune at times, my strings are my graying hair, i still can't stop dying the gray i still want to highlight the dark, but, one day, all these will cease... ............ one night, my face will be in one of those many stars...glittering on a dark blue sky sending a smile, to my loved ones. ................... (there is no other way, but forward all are headed towards an end.) Sally © Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan       June 26, 2018
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61
black as night chiseled stone spirits ramble orphans roam lover's eyes masquerade 9 to 5 come out and play drop of blood alabaster frozen heart encased in plaster open mouth parted lips shared breaths sway and dip swish and flick atmosphere moody blips no need to fear stormy skies vivaciousness gentle touch tenacious kiss cotton candy flushed and wild sapphire eyes mother's child wide grin break apart fleshy dawn beating heart
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Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC
crush
. 1 death dirges Frogs in distance sing  .  .  . Foxes, herons, join in too,   .  .  .  A round of croaking. 2 love gifts Her gift of flowers  .  .  . Came at night without garden,   .  .  .  Were picked in bedroom. 3 twins demure Full moon and she  .  .  . Beauties without crescent smile,   .  .  .  Naked in starlight. 4 light music Before even sun  .  .  . Gleam opens to paint each day,   .  .  .  Beauty in birdsong. 5 iridescent After sun showers  .  .  . Sparkle of rainbow colours,   .  .  .  Busy hummingbirds 6 chilling Hollow sound through trees, Naked and bare branches sway,   .  .  .  Old winter creeping. 7 flirting She wanted a child  .  .  . Rushed from one suitor to next,   .  .  .  Clock set to maybe. 8 super villain Truth once singular  .  .  . Mucked all up with politics,   .  .  .  In cowl of falsehoods. 9 casualties Blood spills in gardens  .  .  . Naïve worms torn from loose grounds, . . . Red robins, green lawns. 10 stigmata Each spring miracle  .  .  . Trees blessed by caterpillars gifts,   .  .  .  Holey hands of leaves. 11 consecrations Ripples lead to bows  .  .  . After fish breaks the water,   .  .  .  A kingfisher dives. 12 constancy Steadfast as always  .  .  . Wildflower in sun and rain,   .  .  .  Showing true colours. 13 roommates Chaste lovers wonder  .  .  . How bodies weather the cold,   .  .  .  Never knowing touch. 14 swept away Suddenly we kissed  .  .  . At beach as tides rolling in,   .  .  .  Drowning by ocean. 15 seductress Her red hair so long  .  .  . Brushing my face, hiding eyes,   .  .  .  A kind entrapment. .
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
15 Haiku | Senryū
. 1 death dirges Frogs in distance sing  .  .  . Foxes, herons, join in too,   .  .  .  A round of croaking. 2 love gifts Her gift of flowers  .  .  . Came at night without garden,   .  .  .  Were picked in bedroom. 3 twins demure Full moon and she  .  .  . Beauties without crescent smile,   .  .  .  Naked in starlight. 4 light music Before even sun  .  .  . Gleam opens to paint each day,   .  .  .  Beauty in birdsong. 5 iridescent After sun showers  .  .  . Sparkle of rainbow colours,   .  .  .  Busy hummingbirds 6 chilling Hollow sound through trees, Naked and bare branches sway,   .  .  .  Old winter creeping. 7 flirting She wanted a child  .  .  . Rushed from one suitor to next,   .  .  .  Clock set to maybe. 8 super villain Truth once singular  .  .  . Mucked all up with politics,   .  .  .  In cowl of falsehoods. 9 casualties Blood spills in gardens  .  .  . Naïve worms torn from loose grounds, . . . Red robins, green lawns. 10 stigmata Each spring miracle  .  .  . Trees blessed by caterpillars gifts,   .  .  .  Holey hands of leaves. 11 consecrations Ripples lead to bows  .  .  . After fish breaks the water,   .  .  .  A kingfisher dives. 12 constancy Steadfast as always  .  .  . Wildflower in sun and rain,   .  .  .  Showing true colours. 13 roommates Chaste lovers wonder  .  .  . How bodies weather the cold,   .  .  .  Never knowing touch. 14 swept away Suddenly we kissed  .  .  . At beach as tides rolling in,   .  .  .  Drowning by ocean. 15 seductress Her red hair so long  .  .  . Brushing my face, hiding eyes,   .  .  .  A kind entrapment. .
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77
I never got the chance, To see the outside world, Since I was sacrificed, For the honor of my family. I sleep on the floor, Right next to dogs, I eat from the floor, Just like a dog, But I work for, a very honorable family. My mother-in-law is loving, She wants the best for me, A daughter as a child would be bad right? Us, being a family with honor and pride. I was violated, But my life was complete, I married him, The honor of the family wasn't tarnished at-least. I don't want to marry, My heart lies among the paints and brushes, I shall marry, My mind knows unmarried girls bring taints and shushes. My brother gets home by 3am, Me, 10 hours earlier, My dreams, my life, my need for freedom? These don't bring honor to the family. My aunt died, I will too, My husband passed away, Awaiting me are flames that flare and sway. Our lives are a necessary sacrifice, Our families should live, with honor and pride.
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Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
Honor and Pride
**** me like the ocean would the moon, Dear Amaranthine. Teach me as you would any abecedarian, slow with pace. My pallid arms are spread, and feet are crossed. Crucify me, like one of your French girls. Your endless frame arched over mine a vaulting testament to the heat of your front against my back. This scene should have been a chapel. Through hazed musk I can taste the saline as it tumbles from your dripping brunette tendrils forming brooks and lagoons the color of flesh in the glens and about the islands of my spine. I wish I could write about you in me while you dance a contemporary beat ceaseless, indeterminate, untold are your feats within and upon my person. For a split moment, seconds shattered in two, I am completely and totally permeated by you. I whine for you to vacillate me, I am ******* begging to be occupied, satiated, by a rhythm akin to the sway of trees. Love me fast and kiss me slow, Dear Amaranthine. My palms are red, and feet bloodied, too. I moan. Call me your poetaster but don't come on my chest; There's far too much weight there already, my dear.
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Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
Dear Amaranthine,
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
O MY LOVE, COME WITH ME, LET’S CLIMB THE MANGO TREE, ITS GOLDEN FRUITS ARE RIPE, FULL OF SWEET MEMORY, LET ME LIFT YOU GENTLY, TILL YOUR HANDS GET A HOLD, THIS WARM ZEPHYR HAS MADE ME, SO STRONG AND SO BOLD, LET US CLIMB WITHOUT SCRATCHING YOUR FLAWLESS IVORY SKIN, MY LOVE WILL GUIDE YOU THROUGH BRANCHES THICK AND THIN, YOUR RAVEN HAIR CASCADING ON TO YOUR NECK SO SLENDER, SHINY NEW LEAVES OF THE MANGO, SO DELICATE, AND SO TENDER, SIT CLOSE TO ME ON A LOFTY BRANCH TO HEAR THE SOULFUL KOEL SING, LET'S SWAY WITH THE BREEZE LIKE SOULS ON A SILKEN STRING, MY HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDER YOUR LOVELY FACE SO CLOSE, SUN BEAMS DANCE ON YOUR LASHES MY PRECIOUS VELVET ROSE, YOUR FRAIL HANDS ENCIRCLE ME LIKE CREEPERS HUGGING THE BOUGH, YOUR WARM EMBRACE ENTHRALLS ME TO KISS YOUR SHAPELY BROW, YOUR SWEET FRAGRANCE INTOXICATES AND AMONG THE CLOUDS I FLOAT, LIKE A BUTTERFLY EMERGING FROM A CATERPILLAR’S UGLY COAT, WE SIT THERE FOR A LONG TIME SUSPENDED IN SPACE, I AM BUT A CONTENT SLAVE TO YOUR HEAVENLY GRACE LET MY LIPS LINGER ON YOUR SOFT PETALS SOME MORE, TILL I ETCH IN MY MIND, EVERY BIT OF YOU TO THE CORE, OH MANGO TREE WE NESTLE IN YOUR MASSIVE ARMS, LOST IN THE MYRIAD MISTS OF ONE ANOTHERS CHARMS, WHEN OUR YEARS ARE GONE ONE DAY WHEN WE ARE AGED AND SPENT, UNDER THIS GREAT MANGO TREE, WE SHALL PITCH OUR FINAL TENT, UNDER ITS VAST CANOPY WE SHALL LIE LOOKING AT THE STARS, OUR BONY FINGERS ACHING YET TENDING TO OUR SCARS, MY MIND’S EYE SEES YOUR WRINKLED FACE SMOOTH WITH AN INNER GLOW, SOFT AND BEAUTIFUL AS EVER IT WAS, AND YOUR LOVELY DARK HAIR FLOW YOUR FLESH AGAINST MINE FEELS JUST AS YOUNG AND WARM, OUR HEART BEATS MERGE LIKE BEES FLYING IN THE SWARM COLD TOMBS ARE NOT FOR US NEITHER MARBLE NOR GRANITE, UNDER THE LIVING MANGO TREE FOREVER WE SHALL UNITE OH MY LOVE, COME WITH ME, LET’S CLIMB THE MANGO TREE, YOU ARE LIKE ITS GOLDEN FRUIT, AND FOREVER YOU WILL BE.
0
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 2:29 AM UTC
THE MANGO TREE
O MY LOVE, COME WITH ME, LET’S CLIMB THE MANGO TREE, ITS GOLDEN FRUITS ARE RIPE, FULL OF SWEET MEMORY, LET ME LIFT YOU GENTLY, TILL YOUR HANDS GET A HOLD, THIS WARM ZEPHYR HAS MADE ME, SO STRONG AND SO BOLD, LET US CLIMB WITHOUT SCRATCHING YOUR FLAWLESS IVORY SKIN, MY LOVE WILL GUIDE YOU THROUGH BRANCHES THICK AND THIN, YOUR RAVEN HAIR CASCADING ON TO YOUR NECK SO SLENDER, SHINY NEW LEAVES OF THE MANGO, SO DELICATE, AND SO TENDER, SIT CLOSE TO ME ON A LOFTY BRANCH TO HEAR THE SOULFUL KOEL SING, LET'S SWAY WITH THE BREEZE LIKE SOULS ON A SILKEN STRING, MY HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDER YOUR LOVELY FACE SO CLOSE, SUN BEAMS DANCE ON YOUR LASHES MY PRECIOUS VELVET ROSE, YOUR FRAIL HANDS ENCIRCLE ME LIKE CREEPERS HUGGING THE BOUGH, YOUR WARM EMBRACE ENTHRALLS ME TO KISS YOUR SHAPELY BROW, YOUR SWEET FRAGRANCE INTOXICATES AND AMONG THE CLOUDS I FLOAT, LIKE A BUTTERFLY EMERGING FROM A CATERPILLAR’S UGLY COAT, WE SIT THERE FOR A LONG TIME SUSPENDED IN SPACE, I AM BUT A CONTENT SLAVE TO YOUR HEAVENLY GRACE LET MY LIPS LINGER ON YOUR SOFT PETALS SOME MORE, TILL I ETCH IN MY MIND, EVERY BIT OF YOU TO THE CORE, OH MANGO TREE WE NESTLE IN YOUR MASSIVE ARMS, LOST IN THE MYRIAD MISTS OF ONE ANOTHERS CHARMS, WHEN OUR YEARS ARE GONE ONE DAY WHEN WE ARE AGED AND SPENT, UNDER THIS GREAT MANGO TREE, WE SHALL PITCH OUR FINAL TENT, UNDER ITS VAST CANOPY WE SHALL LIE LOOKING AT THE STARS, OUR BONY FINGERS ACHING YET TENDING TO OUR SCARS, MY MIND’S EYE SEES YOUR WRINKLED FACE SMOOTH WITH AN INNER GLOW, SOFT AND BEAUTIFUL AS EVER IT WAS, AND YOUR LOVELY DARK HAIR FLOW YOUR FLESH AGAINST MINE FEELS JUST AS YOUNG AND WARM, OUR HEART BEATS MERGE LIKE BEES FLYING IN THE SWARM COLD TOMBS ARE NOT FOR US NEITHER MARBLE NOR GRANITE, UNDER THE LIVING MANGO TREE FOREVER WE SHALL UNITE OH MY LOVE, COME WITH ME, LET’S CLIMB THE MANGO TREE, YOU ARE LIKE ITS GOLDEN FRUIT, AND FOREVER YOU WILL BE.
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68
sway with me, everything sad -- madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure the sky; sway with me, sad things -- fingers split on a forge old age like breakfast shell used books, used people used flowers, used love I need you I need you I need you: it has run away like a horse or a dog, dead or lost or unforgiving.
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15.5k
Sway With Me