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"swiftest" poems
It's beginning... As my day matured into the tangerine sun. Familiar feelings effortlessly conjured as the same old tales were spun. Some came in hues of marmalade Traces of citrus that left in haste. Initial sweetness on the palate that would fade Only making way for a bitter aftertaste. A few were wrapped in tints of ginger. A jolt-like sensation that spoke... Intense and unmistakable in nature. Like glowing embers engulfed in latent flames and smoke. Several bore the colours and scent of marigold Boasting of orange petals whimsically waving to the clouds... Whispering hints of rumours from days of old, Days of when mine was the only silent face in a boisterous crowd. The ones forged in bronze were few and hardly said. Like the only compelling excerpt embedded within infinite chapters. Hidden words in plain sight strung together boldly in red. Rubies cast carelessly in the swiftest of rivers... It is beginning... The end of today as the sun grew redder... I'd bide the sands of time as it slips away into forever...
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Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
Spectrum Orange
The all seeing iris imperial city The swiftest of stylus this side of the ‘sippi The trippiest spittin’ Promethean hippy Conspiracy theorist of eeriest verse The despotic hypnotic black flag bearin’ Hearst Still immersing myself in a poverty trap As I grapple with lack of fact check cashing crap Cryogenically frozen emotion vibes flowin’ From out my funk bunker boombox Overthrowin’ Your global dominion opinion with ease Shootin’ breezes with Tirailleurs Senegalese I’m the kid wicked picket sign paintin’ Tom Sawyer The ill eagle Taino privilege enjoyer Still swoopin’ in mean on each **** I make clean Pick the bones dry of serpentine oil green dreams Then I bury what’s left of your money machines With the pharaohs of old’s latest pyramid schemes
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Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 12:10 PM UTC
Horus the Youth
A late hour indeed, darkness over land, but A bright light shines from a moon above As a shadow sweeps across the surface. For a moment, it stands emblazoned, precarious Adumbrated phoenix in the sky, But it does not flare out. Sweeping lower, the form resolves, Alights narrowly on a fine branch. For a moment, it struggles for balance But soon it finds a niche, stands true; Visage of wisdom in the night But not without flaw Not the swiftest, lacking in grace Lost territories in cunctation. Still, secure in its plumage, Into the night, ready to fly: Hunter poised in the trees It soars aloft Nearby, another branch inhabited Not a vision this one, a voice. A lighter weight, a softer presence Harmonious to the calm Tones of beauty to the air It rings forth Awhile, this one too struggled It tried the songs of the mockingbird Some rang esthetic, others strange, But now its own song found: Anthem sung for the heart Chorus all may hear Birds of the night. Dark to dawn Their habits thus have been. Now with the new morning, A change in the season; Mind and Song together to the sky Light out for the lit horizon … ~D.B. Guy (May 2008)
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Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:23 AM UTC
Owl and Nightingale
Entangled, inseparable, the dark and the light; the sun and the night. Sandy blond hair and a musical laugh; jet black locks and swiftest flight. Heights they encompass and the depths they rule. One, united forever, from balance to fall. He, the prophet, musician and scholar; She, the maiden, huntress and guardian. Spheres opposing, mixed and mighty. Fire and water, the shadows in the forest and the piercing rays of dawn. Starstruck, moonstruck and tied together in lunar madness. The Lord, the Lady, marked by fate bound by destiny, yet the fall begins. Intoxicating, this bond is; the burden of power, responsibility and statute. Deep they fell, into abysmal glorious ecstasy, and crossed the forbidden boundary. Their spheres merge, tempted they are and temptation the succumb to. Blood, the blood they share, reddens the moon and darkens the sun. The Earth descends into eternal twilight.
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Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Artemis and Apollo
it begins about mid-evening, the edges of the rug being pulled ever so gently. intoxicated feet do not notice a room slipping beneath them. it hastens nearer to morning; as the magic carpet ride is coming to a close we begin to pat our bodies & notice the things that fell from us. sobriety. clothes. drugs. money.... ego   walls   pain After inventory is taken, the day starts without waiting for your tired eyes. oh, the saddest meeting of eyes, with the swiftest passing of friends, drugs, memories, laughter evening abliss. I am dropped, center stage -- reality. at the same moment the drugs wear off. the last quarter is spent. the first rays of the sun peek through and the last meeting of eyes as the last glimpse of a shoe disappears at the door's edge. the rug has been pulled reality and the curtains have been drawn slumber.
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Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC
the feeling
Just because we've torn their statues down, and cast them from their temples, doesn't for a moment mean the gods are dead. Land of Ionia, they love you yet, their spirits still remember you. When an August morning breaks upon you a vigour from their lives stabs through your air; and sometimes an ethereal and youthful form in swiftest passage, indistinct, passes up above your hills.
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2.9k
Ionian
I was a single monkey      I drew him in my world typing the opening of my Hamlet.     I write him in my lines. different from all I had ever known     a love that will only die with me. every atom belonging to me as good   the heart that keeps mine beating. It belongs to her You were none Her soul was beautiful      now you’re all. and she kept it veiled     his swiftest blow, lightly-laced humility and fear     we righted our mistakes with a strangely aching heart      I trusted in his honest utterance. I and this mystery, here we stand.     Oh blind cupidity! insane anger! She went out like a firefly,       I never broke my faith The heart hoards its thorns     my heart is always propped up Just as the rose profligates.      in a field ready for the next arrow I wondered about you when you told me never to leave.
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Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
If Only You Could See Yourself the Way I Do
By: Cedric McClester Life’s a marathon It’s never been a sprint But time goes by so fast You’ll wonder where it went So make the most of it Would be my comment And when the clock runs out You can die content Life’s a marathon It’s never been a dash You must conserve energy If you want to last It’s not won by the swiftest Because they run real fast Is it won by the wisest You might want to ask Life’s a marathon So to stay in the running More than being fast You’ll have to be cunning If you want to last And be deemed as stunning Once the dye is cast Your victory is coming Life’s a marathon Not a simple race If you want to win You’ll have to keep pace And time yourself To stay in the chase In order to cross the line And come in first place Cedric McClester, Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.
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Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
LIFE’S A MARATHON
The wildfire spreads Engulfing everything in its path Burning them into ruins Passing on the flames To the last ones standing It's merciless It's mighty Come the bravest Come the swiftest The army that fights the beast Watching on Helpless As the fire destroys Wrecking all into ashes
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Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
Wildfire
Stay, rivulet, nor haste to leave The lovely vale that lies around thee. Why wouldst thou be a sea at eve, When but a fount the morning found thee? Born when the skies began to glow, Humblest of all the rock's cold daughters, No blossom bowed its stalk to show Where stole thy still and scanty waters. Now on thy stream the noonbeams look, Usurping, as thou downward driftest, Its crystal from the clearest brook, Its rushing current from the swiftest. Ah! what wild haste!--and all to be A river and expire in ocean. Each fountain's tribute hurries thee To that vast grave with quicker motion. Far better 'twere to linger still In this green vale, these flowers to cherish, And die in peace, an aged rill, Than thus, a youthful Danube, perish.
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1.6k
From The Spanish Of Pedro De Castro Y Anaya
It's all been soiled like some overused sponge stinking of mildew and the precise antithesis of the cleanliness it was meant to produce. It took but a second for my overly-romanticized secret affair to be shoved into the bottom of the garbage disposal and minced over and over by the thunderous roar and bite in the throat of the sink, and *good ******* lord* I felt every grind and tear slicing up my entrails and leaving me gutted and panicked on the kitchen floor. This is why he, and every other precious charm sparkling in the trove of my heart belong locked away in a safe and hence buried at the deepest trench that can thus even only be located by the swiftest of explorers. I should have known you to surpass qualifications in navigating the turbulence (there be none for you, probably, anyway) and disarray that is the ever-winding contour of halls and trap-doors within the chambers of my heart. You're too sly to just float along the surface to the tempo of my shallow praises in that scarlet inner tube and work on your tan from the UV Rays emanating from the warmth of my I am happy smiles, No, you're unsatisfied lest you've overturned every lingering mystery and lighted the sad, empty shadows that I had humbly darkened so to preserve the pathetic weaknesses and guilty pleasures that I hide inside them. I'm sad that you think that with that necessary darkness comes malice, because I've never had an honest evil wish for even the scaliest of serpents. But now you know that for yourself, and you knowing is the same as five billion men and women hearing and seeing and discovering at last the very unremarkable and demeaning secrets of my heart. I'm going to try to be okay with this, so all the while please, if you can manage, try to be okay with me and my "lie".
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Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 2:48 AM UTC
Secrets Never Stay
It's all been soiled like some overused sponge stinking of mildew and the precise antithesis of the cleanliness it was meant to produce. It took but a second for my overly-romanticized secret affair to be shoved into the bottom of the garbage disposal and minced over and over by the thunderous roar and bite in the throat of the sink, and *good ******* lord* I felt every grind and tear slicing up my entrails and leaving me gutted and panicked on the kitchen floor. This is why he, and every other precious charm sparkling in the trove of my heart belong locked away in a safe and hence buried at the deepest trench that can thus even only be located by the swiftest of explorers. I should have known you to surpass qualifications in navigating the turbulence (there be none for you, probably, anyway) and disarray that is the ever-winding contour of halls and trap-doors within the chambers of my heart. You're too sly to just float along the surface to the tempo of my shallow praises in that scarlet inner tube and work on your tan from the UV Rays emanating from the warmth of my I am happy smiles, No, you're unsatisfied lest you've overturned every lingering mystery and lighted the sad, empty shadows that I had humbly darkened so to preserve the pathetic weaknesses and guilty pleasures that I hide inside them. I'm sad that you think that with that necessary darkness comes malice, because I've never had an honest evil wish for even the scaliest of serpents. But now you know that for yourself, and you knowing is the same as five billion men and women hearing and seeing and discovering at last the very unremarkable and demeaning secrets of my heart. I'm going to try to be okay with this, so all the while please, if you can manage, try to be okay with me and my "lie".
Continue reading...
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He or she who can put pen to paper And write words for all to cherish and savour, Who can touch the heart and fire the mind And make us see things as if we were blind; Who paints word pictures, again and again With the swiftest strokes of a fountain pen, Awakening feelings of wonder and awe That, perhaps haven’t been sensed before; Who makes heavy hearts feel at ease As easily as warm winds bend willow trees; Truly, on that Poet’s words we should feed For surely they’re worthy of praise indeed.
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Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 1:38 AM UTC
The Poet Worthy of Praise
APA hates American Typewriter, 14-point font, and loves that double space, But as a writer, I have permission to dismiss. Topsy-Turvey, Backwards motion. I once, angry, ****** in ocean, And drank seawater with mayonnaise. I freaked dolphins and made crater waves. X-ray Baybay Snuffleupagus Pay to play Win the day Ruffle-up-opus Eye-spy Night by Night by Nigh by The swiftest hand Comes night by Weirdly flowing blind sty. Pierce my hands for understanding.
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Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
Flankstate
Scintillating shades of brilliance absorb into my pores Opulently bathing me in a radiant light Flowing through my senses, appealing to my soul An incandescent energy of pure delight Tranquil beads of silken dew form upon my skin Expressing adoration for the light Pleasing drops of exultation, tears of joy divine Sending darkness into the swiftest flight A renewal of my spirit, eagerly blooming intensity Persuasion of the sweetest kind Is found in this release, the delightful peace I keep Bathing in the brilliant light I find An incandescent energy is flowing from my senses Sending darkness fleeing from my soul Tranquil beads of light are beaming from my spirit Sweetly smiling, as darkness loses hold
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Aug 22, 2010
Aug 22, 2010 at 9:45 AM UTC
Vanquishing the Darkness
PEREGRINE Swiftest falcon wings keenest sight from highest heights sky-diving arrow. SWALLOWS Raindrops' graceful plumes swift wisps and springs arriving two tail brothers' breeze. CROW Observant shadow pies memorizing faces; jet sharp reaper waits...
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
PEREGRINE / SWALLOWS / CROW (Haiku)
down south you forget the ripening leaves and chilly mornings of bright october no matter for redly a dying time grieves sunlight on water fair smiling deceives at dawn the frost shone hard on grass and clover down south you forget the ripening leaves yet clock there remains the swiftest of thieves treating the same way both stayer and rover no matter for redly a dying time grieves telling each young one that what he believes is false never true and patience is over down south you forget the ripening leaves slowly to slaughter we marched off the beeves a suitable task for the youthful drover no matter how redly a dying time grieves the adult must measure how much he achieves in calm acquiescence knowingly sober down south you forget the ripening leaves no matter how redly a dying time grieves
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Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 3:46 AM UTC
red leaves
Be gone thy spirit and soul. Let me die here and now. For I have lost all hope of this life. I wish for death on the swiftest of wings, or a sign of hope on the stampeding hooves of life. Beaten down into the earth. Bones of mentality shatter, a dozen times over. Screaming anxiety let my soul die. Let my spirit dwindle. I banish thee and go in grace. For I have tried and failure prevailed. I need not be here. I don't belong. So let me be and go and rest my splintered spirit and die on this barren ground which is called life.
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Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 2:39 PM UTC
Beaten One Last Time
In my search for the serene quietude of dawn To warm with embers the cold rivers of my soul I have forsaken your dark shores Rising and gliding above the hills and mountains In the swiftest speed I roared But a giant realization had snatched me From the mountainous caverns of solitude Indeed as I have always known, it is Inside the warmth of your animated splendor With impassioned ears, I listened to The sweet cacophonies of jeepneys roaring In your busy streets, and the hawkers hawking Along the sidewalks and sidestreets of life Hustling under the red skies of your twilight I am alive, and you are alive Amidst the death that pervades the air And the disquiet of the surrounding chaos Like a dark ominous fog that rises into the stars   Destroying the holiness of dreams Life, life, life! I screamed into the depths of your bay Hoping to dredge from the red waters, the long gone Where tattered dreams where made anew Woven from the silken threads of sleep Birthed by the once glorious rising of the sun We are alive, we want you alive And with our heft, we will raise our fists We will break the locked doors of heaven To drag out the kings to hell And sentence them to the nothingness We will dance, like the galaxies Hammering and pounding the ground Shattering the yokes of cerebral slumber To ignite the furnaces of life And start anew a fire that would burn To bring the light through the everlasting dark!
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Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 8:48 AM UTC
Pearl Under the Swamp of Time
I've seen the known swiftest person lose in a race The strongest fought in a battle and came out defeated The unqualified applied and emerged the chosen one Meeting/exceeding the requirements is NOT always what it takes to win Sometimes, grace and favor make all the difference.
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Mar 9, 2021
Mar 9, 2021 at 8:03 PM UTC
Grace
all the best things it seems end abruptly a thunderstorm in summer when the clouds suddenly disappear spent and the sun starts to shine the book containing missing pages that will never be filled by the author who died peacefully unaware in his sleep the sunset falling behind the ocean and covered by the streaming black ink of night the shooting star that you saw disappear before the wish you wanted to whisper could tumble from your lips the song missing the last chorus that shattered into a thousand pieces of silence the sentence you always started whispering but could never finish the phone call that dies in the dead of night your birthday lasting the swiftest twenty four hours why does it have to end at 12am (when i wasn't born at midnight?) this poem would too if i were brave enough but i'm not so i'm ending on you
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Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
abrupt.
Part One WALK IN THE PARK (ON A GOOD DAY) ______________________ ROADS Where choices begin, some are quick to find its end, wise keep journeying. STAINED GLASS Shattered pieces make The cathedral of your soul, stained light still shines true. WINDOW Take a peek inside the lives within kept warm. Make yourself / a home. BUTTERFLY a dangerous thing: inspiration's fragile wings metamorphoses. LOTUS FLOWER Morning-star-burst-bloom floral crown on tranquil lake she walks on water. NAPE Warm whispers of lips down the meadows of your neck. Sweet familiar bed. BOMBYX MORI White mulberry leaves, its veins univoltine wines silk, worm's waste of time. PEREGRINE Swiftest falcon wings keenest sight from highest heights sky-diving arrow. SWALLOWS Raindrops' graceful plumes swift wisps and springs arriving two tail brothers' breeze. RENEWAL'S GLEE Cherry blossom clowns winsome pink dandruff laughter. Spring floral snowflakes. TAI CHI Dawn's ceremony wet grass tickling our feet we wave away night. SOCCERMOM Mother's sideline cheers loud for wheelchair legged champ no goals made red card. WEDDING Now that we've fallen, hand in hand so grippingly, until death our kiss. FAMILY CIRCUS Death defying lunch life in a trapeze show gasp! Fights for ringmaster. PEANUTS Child's play tricks we played like pigpen we ***** love Flight of red barons. OSMOSIS Blossoms in Springtime burst like  Japanese kisses, how to love haiku.
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 3:49 PM UTC
WALKING. POETRY. (Collected Haiku)
I look at the image of your face on my phone more often then I should I wonder why you leave with the swiftest ease You were/are broken pretty bad I can't help noticing how selfish I am sometimes I wonder when you think of me I wonder when/if you'll care I drink in excess I'm broken myself My brake makes me a coward I hope you will forgive me If/When you leave I'll cry I'll curse myself, I'll die in forty years Because when the time comes I'll replay every time you told me how you felt, And I won't stop your leaving or even try, until you've left and it's too late And I'll be a huge cliché, just as you told me I was But until then, I'll piece you together next to the memories in my head
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Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Memories in my head
Your soft breath upon my face It slithers through the feathers of my hair. The scent of your skin, Presses me into tender dreams. As your eyes gently lift up to meet mine. I hastily drifter mine. As your stare rolls over my face. My timid eyes ended up staring Onto the swiftest corners of your body. What would I say, if you caught my gaze? A simple taste of desire, Has left my body, caught in fire. Fever it is, that deep look on your face. As the room spreads out the moment Into a lifetime, into ocean and space. And again my lips trembles, As the tip of my tongue tries hard, To lick away the dry and delicate circumstance. You rub your fingers on my arm Playfully with a soft disguise of empty eyes. I know you're staring at me. You know I'm staring back at you. What more do we need, In this moment of truth? No words will suffice. Except for a gaze in your eyes.
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Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
Glass Gaze
On the edge, I feel a gust of wind splinter It chills me like an icy hug from Old Man Winter I see my target now And to the Gods of frost, I begin a bow He is my nemesis, a slimy thief He stole her heart and left me a receipt of grief She holds his arm, crystal love in her eyes Beholding this sight, righteous rage starts to fly I bound towards them, a hateful beast My hunger for revenge awaiting its feast I nudge her aside, unwilling for her harm I look into my enemy’s mind, seeing the oceans of hollow charm Unto him, I will unleash my pain The need for catharsis has driven me insane My love barely manages to scream, “Darling, please!...” I severed his throat like swiftest breeze
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Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC
Coldest