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"sweetening" poems
Seek solace in solitude There’s a world of silence Mirrors the inner beauty A reflective mind ponders Enwrapped in the echoes The mantra of eternal truth Soul elevated to a stage Sweet harmony of realization Hymns of pure ecstasy Pours through the ears as honey Sweetening the existence Shimmering light is kindled An unusual radiance enthralls Meanings of life deciphered Gifted with moments of bliss
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Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC
Solace in Solitude
there was a sparkle in her eyes I saw it I saw it no one else paid her any attention and only I noticed the apple cores of her hands unfulfilled starving hysterical barren barred so she resorted to magic the crazy stuff of existence like the wheat she stashed in her sandbag heart and when it found her not despair shook the earth around her sorrowful body permeating disillusion confusion immersion in nothingness nothingness nothing lonely lonely and bottle caps launched from her fingernails from the spiraling stems of madness that rampaged through her bulging pulse with piercing shards of nothingness nothingness nothing splitting her glowing veins and sweetening her ever-kind clueless knowledgeable brain brain brain and where was the world?
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Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:26 PM UTC
What Destroyed Her
I know an abyss is between you and me seas and oceans billow the overlooking moon is untouched like it was before. I know drifting off onto a moonlight polished pillow is not everyone's lucky go. But not that never once or more did a star one or two among the zillions across your lunar brow peeped in my dream sweetening my nap. But I know no sleep never can made me forgot my only moon-dew firefly glows tuberoses shine by my windows!
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Jul 11, 2022
Jul 11, 2022 at 8:31 PM UTC
Untouched Close Moon
"Like a prayer in church to God you are to me precious love: " "knowing you is loving you thus, Knowing me is loving me." ~~ How sweet lies sound near or far how bitter truth tasted as memories arrived so awkward It's bitterness lessened with understanding true love maturing sweetening and cruel Mr Ttime relentless I'm In silence and in time God allowed me to see where i erred and failed .I ask God to show me to lead me as head not as chopped up tail. God showed me what I couldn't see showed those I injured unintendedly parroting unkind words in ignorance what you want us all to see. Please notice my lonely waves Predictable unchanging. Drop your pebbles in my sand pond that everything in me may be altered in your grace Lord Bless a peace my every loved one. Remove all enemies from our paths. Bring my loved ones back to my caring selfless Godlike realms anchored in your mercy God.. ~~~~ Karijinbba.
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Aug 19, 2022
Aug 19, 2022 at 7:27 AM UTC
A prayer in church.
So I miss you in the spaces Where your hands go The between times In our sleeping Where maybe we aren't even touching But I can feel you Hear your breathing In the spaces in between Sweetening my blood Flowing thick Like mesquite honey Hummingbirds in my stomach hovering And drinking their fill And I'm enough for something Sustenance for something Other than me Enough for someone Who sees my betweens And puts his hands Where they need to be Warms them On my belly full of flowering mesquite Nectar for the humminbirds And bees
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Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
Mesquite (hummingbirds and bees)
I can't walk in flowered printed heels I've watched you study yourself in the mirror steady neck leading down to gentle shoulders and halcyon hands sour ideas filling my brain I'm imagining my hands sweetening your concerned soft-muscled legs into certainty bronze-brown strands of curly hair on dark grey seats I sense dancing trees behind me and savor the beautiful bitterness of abyssal secrets on my saccharine tongue your collar bones are silken and veiled with Taurus-led misunderstandings. mine are always veiled with uncertainty and sporadically veiled with you
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Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
veiled
Gum is another tongue in your mouth, taste-bud studded with sugar and pink Hubba Bubba Double Bubble Your jaw feels like expanding bread when you rest from chewing flatten it into a saucer and let it balloon from your mouth, it distends like an internal ***** or the full stomach of a frog spilling from your lips (When he stretches, you see veins ********* across his amphibian chest) It hooks itself on your nose and wilts into a pink tangle.
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Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 1:38 PM UTC
No artificial sweetening
I’m more afraid of losing you than I am of losing myself To force one to create; To turn the gears of the mind by force of will Ironic; That the source of creativity has become so artificial, Like plastic flowers in an outdoors garden, Not wrong, Not dangerous, Unsettling; One of these things is not like the other. Something is wrong; This is too familiar, I have been here before. Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, Silence is a spirit which haunts me, Hold my tongue, Punching my gut, Every time brave words bloom in my throat, This banshee screams reality in my wind-beaten face. She is subdued by a fraternal bond, a weightless chain, Silence is tamed by the right company, The demon exorcised from my body, I am sanctified in brief lucidity, Clarity, however fleeting still exists, Despite the holes in your brain, The ultimate in body modification. Every ugly duckling is told they’re a swan, So they seek their kind, Unable to set roots, Assured that there is a kindred spirit, You just have to find them. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone, They ugly duckling becomes more shark-like every day, Unable to stop, a flower constantly about to wither, With age comes beauty, The Rhododendron expels an army of stamens, Male in essence, coloured neon pink, ******* objects of desire for the hungry bee, Honey and perfume, Comfort and poison, The children of flowers, Opposing in nature, Twins in function, Sweetening, attracting, saturating, Numbing the tongue, Burning the nose, So sweet I could ***** I want more time and you want more attention, Kind gestures, kind reward, So sweet that I’m sick.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Sweet
I’m more afraid of losing you than I am of losing myself To force one to create; To turn the gears of the mind by force of will Ironic; That the source of creativity has become so artificial, Like plastic flowers in an outdoors garden, Not wrong, Not dangerous, Unsettling; One of these things is not like the other. Something is wrong; This is too familiar, I have been here before. Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, Silence is a spirit which haunts me, Hold my tongue, Punching my gut, Every time brave words bloom in my throat, This banshee screams reality in my wind-beaten face. She is subdued by a fraternal bond, a weightless chain, Silence is tamed by the right company, The demon exorcised from my body, I am sanctified in brief lucidity, Clarity, however fleeting still exists, Despite the holes in your brain, The ultimate in body modification. Every ugly duckling is told they’re a swan, So they seek their kind, Unable to set roots, Assured that there is a kindred spirit, You just have to find them. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone, They ugly duckling becomes more shark-like every day, Unable to stop, a flower constantly about to wither, With age comes beauty, The Rhododendron expels an army of stamens, Male in essence, coloured neon pink, ******* objects of desire for the hungry bee, Honey and perfume, Comfort and poison, The children of flowers, Opposing in nature, Twins in function, Sweetening, attracting, saturating, Numbing the tongue, Burning the nose, So sweet I could ***** I want more time and you want more attention, Kind gestures, kind reward, So sweet that I’m sick.
Continue reading...
50
Love is Young; Love is Old Old love in age Young love at heart A never dying feeling felt more in death The Sweetness of Love is always better than its bitterness Yet the feeling of Loves' bitterness is why we love more Love is Pain; Love is Gain Painful Love is Jealous Gainful Love is Humorous Old Lovers die in gain Young Lovers hurt in pain The experience of Love When it is from the wrong place a sweet feeling hurting a thrilling As the tastes of the Bitter Kola stays bitter until chewed and swallowed further Then the sweetness sips in sweetening Ife Orogbo; an old love that loves long bearing all through thick and thin In Sickness and in Health till death do you part like gold in fire; fish in water Ife Orogbo; True Love Grows Old
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Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
*Ife Orogbo*
Two friends, two lively runaways Skin tinted light bulb white- A vague starched contrast to pistachio Mays So many tides of turquoise fears Lave rooted feet in flight unseen thus far In moon parade resulted earthly years Few never landing kites are brushed against a shooting star Wait! Now listen. There he comes. Vein lianas pierce his pale wrists- Pan plants steps on earthy lumps - This straying soul the aging still resists You may spot him in a forest Leaving seasoned feral brae With some berries wild in August, Sweetening strangers' welcomed stay "Have you seen my Darling, boys? She wears ribbons in her hair Darns old lovely teddy toys Pray this life to her is fair." "No, but say the author tells the truth Lives your Wendy in a city And her children know the sooth They are little, yet so gritty" Peter smiled :"Well, then I will bring them all They'll attend the fairies' ball! Now close your eyes and let us fall If muffled in a fairy dust no harm will ever you befall Onward, over a forgotten cave Peter's flute in silence lays Upward for a foggy cradle crave Three flying figures in ablaze
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Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 12:28 PM UTC
“Evil Peter Pan”
Electric tension crackles across your lips, tiny bolts from tiny hurricanes raging around the eyes of your pupils. We sit where two halls meet, parallel paths on perpendicular lines, an x marking, a t crossed, the intersection with our eyes playing a game of red light, green light. A smile, possibly imposed, a gold spot where my finger touched the blush of rose begs rising on the hills of your cheeks, your shyness fogging your glasses and your passion hiding in deeper dimples. A smile, possibly imposing, building trenches in your face to match the sharpness of your chin and contrasting the charm leaking out of the corners of your mouth like faulty boxes, packages, boxes and bags tied with ribbon in denial, the fabric timeless tapestries torn and tied around the tree like tinsel. You touched my hand, drawing me back on the sketchbook tiles, shading me in when my mind wandered off to wonder. It sounded like the moments between the fingers of impatience and angry clocks. Tick tock transgressions make me a momentary monarch of mirth before I falter and realize that you biting your levi lip to hold the tide back means that the hurricane is swelling. You apologize because of secrets you hold in Roman ruins and for sweetening the cyanide syllables. You regret these moments, because unlike promises, you can’t recant. You stand and storms pass, stomachs settle and the last jagged bolt streaks into oblivion.
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Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
Oblivion
September morning and the blush pink of a child's eyelid layers With soft Wedgewood blue And a silvery white. Feathery treetops shiver in the light breeze And there is a delicious chill in the air. Contrails break apart in slow motion Resting on the daybreak's skyline. A blackbird hops across the dewy grass To take his morning slice of stale bread. Rose petals crimped and heavy wait Patiently to be dried in the pastel sun. There is no sadness as the summer slips by; Just memories of freshly mown grass On parish fields, of light, of warmth, Of sea and country walks Sweetening, like apples In a sand box.
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Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 8:04 AM UTC
September ( a Collaboration with David Hewitt)
Your love is hard like rocks in my belly in the morning; like starting the countdown to a three-day drunk a week later, at every turning point, every shadow of an angle, I am taking roads I have never crossed, I am watching water run in crystalline rivers toward alleys I've never known. When they ask me for money or Marlboros, I say yes, please, I would like those too. I would like to eat bagels in the sun with crinkly paper in my teeth and sour cream cheese sweetening in the liquor. My landscaper's shoulders and granite deltoids are now green with lime and lichens. Girls like to run their hands over them; but they are hungry for your hands and the lavishing footsteps of your fingernails. When I wake up I put enough water in the coffee-maker for about twenty cups, and enough ***** in those twenty cups for a three-day drunk. Your love is hard like ice-cold ***** and boiling coffee that mutilates tastebuds and makes my belly feel real good. But not talking to you for awhile; it's easier to warm up in the morning so I can cool down at night, and by the pink dawn of darkness I could get back to working my belly with ***** rocks, and Marlboros.
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Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 12:01 PM UTC
el amor de tu es dificil
Afternoons spent crying, weeping Nights a-howling, raging. Love covers them all up, calming Like chocolates a-dripping. Loneliness, frustration, sadness, Melancholy, and anger boiling. Love coats them all up, sweetening Like chocolates a-dripping. A bar of caramel, a sound A visit in sense from all around You fill me all up, embracing Like chocolates a-dripping.
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Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 10:20 AM UTC
Dripping Chocolate
ANSEO A TÁ TÚ (YOU ARE HERE ) Spring had come dressed the farm in its best green. Even the sky wore the latest blue a sort of shy eternity. Birds had been perfectly positioned after a great deal of thought by whoever had put them there. Furrows crawled lazily across the face of a field glistening with a newness that the day couldn't help but be excited by. The trees were beside themselves madly in love with time who had been kind to them for ages now. Ballea lay smiling before him Even its very name made his heart dance. Even the very saying of it made his soul swoon. "Anseo a tá tú!" he says to himself. The Irish sweetening each loved syllable. "You are here!" he reminds himself in case one of the birds only spoke English. And never was the boy who had come back in the shape of a man as delighted as he. "Anseo a tá tú. . .indeed!" his ghost smiles to his self. *** I am wishing that in his dying my father will return  to the little farm in Cork and complete his life cycle by being the ghost of the little boy who adored the earth and sky of his native place. I wanted to hold his hand and bring him here even if only in words. Da...you are here!
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Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 1:03 AM UTC
ANSEO A TÁ TÚ (YOU ARE HERE )
Begin with the meat. Venison, if you seek authenticity; if you were raised white, ground beef will do. The mirapoix can be purchased if you no longer till the back yard. Potatoes and peas and corn as well.  No matter what the commercials say, frozen tastes nothing like fresh from the earth. If Grandfather did not milk the cow and churn the butter, saute the vegetables and meat in half a stick. Flour was bought and traded for for many generations; just open the bag and add a quarter cup. Beef stock is such a pain in the *** to make. Safe, sterile boxes with tamper-proof caps so much more convenient. Let the soup simmer for what seems to be a lifetime, then open two cans of hominy, drain them, and add to the *** letting the smell summon the memories of whole families. Adjust the seasoning, sweetening the broth with a tear or two before serving.
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
Corn Soup
I have left the imprint of my body on your wild grasses under your wild hedges I have slept the sweet sleep of an embering fire in your arms and known your lips on mine as a sweetness of the dancing rain on leaves your soulhands have blended me together like the scent of meadowflowers sweetening the air and I have been embraced and enearthed in the ground of your sweet being been received by and have received your sweet soul Love you have made of me a meuse an imprint in wild grasses under wild hedges in your generous and generating heart c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater
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Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
meuse
a quiet story before the locked doors or three way mirrors a spider whispers a lesson from a devil on hot pale scales pipe high virginal ballads in black smoke broken by smiling Poussin bells plunge down towers sweetening prisons with spiders clenched recitals and 24 carat bourbon
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Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
Small Bravado
Come like winter to the lake Freezing my body numb and motionless letting my soul flow like water caressing me from within Come like spring to the pine tree Pushing me from inside Budding with new desire Making new life Ecstasy to each flower Come like summer to the fruit Ripening me from within sweetening with all your heat Rotting the undesired peeling off my shell rosy and fired Come like autumn to the forest Taking the peace away Cleansing with each gust playing like a master may sweeping me your way With every passing season i stray and i negate please just come don't make me wait Come like you would from me, taking me away don't let me cry no more Resonating as the Ney ---Sunday, April 28, 2013
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Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Come to me
I crave your taste Still picking up your scent Your golden eyes glistening Still cast their spell I'll sit here sober-minded Rotting in my bed Empty glass of ice In my trembling hands Until that honey warm liquid Trickles down my throat An addict to your being A slave to your form Oh Sweetening pleasure Grace me with your presence Take away this reality That's killing me Worse than your poison edited 2012
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Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 6:39 PM UTC
Honey Is Not Always So Sweet (2008)
Coffee is my life blood A love affair as strong as I like it Sweet as I want it Shots if I'm tired Weak when I'm wired All a-bored the caffeine espresso Oops, I mean express Express my adoration The sole foundation To my motivation To reach completion And finish my work Late at night Early in the mourning After the wake-ing Lazy afternoons And in the evening I'll add my sweetening Or keep it bitter Like the glares From my mother As I fill up another Cup of smooth, brown freedom Add some nitro When I'm dead To refill my head With the words that I said A moment ago I'll take it blow by blow Shot by shot Milligram by milligram Of caffeine, coffee, constant Reminder of how easy It is to get rid Of exhaustion Even if only for a moment Or a lunch break Or a tired mourning Or as I write this poem I love you, coffee In any way, shape, or form That you may come In any size or flavor To get me to savor The tang of the coffee As long as I'm longing For some more caffeine My addiction isn't waning As my love grows for you With each sip I swallow And each nickel I borrow Just to buy One more cup
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Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
Mourning
Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, the heart-sweetening light! Ah, the light dances and the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth. the light is generosity, is shattered into gems, and it scatters its golden aura in profusion.
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Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 2:09 AM UTC
MY LIGHT - ALEXIS KAPROUZOS
I hear the subtle sound of heartache calling across the quay, young lovers spell Joni's words with the catkins of the tree. I feel the heavy weight of lover's wake as we dream on through the day, old demons used to poison me, before you took them all away. I taste the blood in chocolate wine and it's sweetening my mind, it's telling me of fortune's treat, when good intention is combined. I smell the human in our longing sweat as I press into your skin, steady as my doubts are perished, all happiness, lived again I see the poetry in street-lights imitating the moon, telling me when darkness falls, light will follow soon. I know there's more out there than ever I've seen, more than whatever I am and whatever I've been.
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Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
Third Eye
Smoke rose from a cigarette, Broken in passing breeze Began to dissipate, Vanishing but for a memory It had once lingered there To sully spring's air. Existence still transient, As mind will cast away This trivia as passing of the day. What was becomes nothing. Shadows are for moments, Specters of light not there, So as emotions profound, Sounds of beloved voices Once sweetening time Cease to be when forgotten.
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Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 6:45 PM UTC
Being and Nothing