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"tallest" poems
There comes a day in your life where you meet someone special… You try so hard not to admit it but you just can’t hold back the way you feel… I like you. You get all those feelings… Those butterflies you can’t stomach, That heart rate you can’t put at ease, So baby … Sweetheart with the beautiful smile. Sure, I loved sleep But dreams couldn't compare Not to talking to you until my mind screamed for rest And the butterflies in my stomach settled Darling with the endless amount of love… your love could fill the oceans and climb the tallest trees, but could your love belong to me someday? Be given to me? Can you feel the way I do for you? & Boy, sometimes I tangle my own fingers Closing my eyes, losing myself in a daydream Where your voice is more than an echo in my mind And I even believe for a few seconds you're still here Lover, who writes me poems, You should know I write you too. I write about you until my fingers ache And still after that I keep writing Because there's just some people you could write about forever And baby, you're one of them. And boy who played me a song, Sweet sounds bow down to my ears, And the way you play your guitar… & the way I daydream about kissing your lips... I can’t wait until the sparks of your tongue burn my mouth send electric shocks through my body Cutie… with the funny jokes, You make me laugh. Today you made me laugh, like you always do, you’re the only one who can now a days. Baby, with those sparkling eyes, Your eyes haunt me whether I'm dreaming or not And what haunts me more is the fact that I can’t have you now because you ruined it It hurts to think about it, So I have to block you out. Play your songs to someone else, Read your silly lines of heartache to someone else, And go find… someone else.
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Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
I kinda sorta think I'm falling for you
There comes a day in your life where you meet someone special… You try so hard not to admit it but you just can’t hold back the way you feel… I like you. You get all those feelings… Those butterflies you can’t stomach, That heart rate you can’t put at ease, So baby … Sweetheart with the beautiful smile. Sure, I loved sleep But dreams couldn't compare Not to talking to you until my mind screamed for rest And the butterflies in my stomach settled Darling with the endless amount of love… your love could fill the oceans and climb the tallest trees, but could your love belong to me someday? Be given to me? Can you feel the way I do for you? & Boy, sometimes I tangle my own fingers Closing my eyes, losing myself in a daydream Where your voice is more than an echo in my mind And I even believe for a few seconds you're still here Lover, who writes me poems, You should know I write you too. I write about you until my fingers ache And still after that I keep writing Because there's just some people you could write about forever And baby, you're one of them. And boy who played me a song, Sweet sounds bow down to my ears, And the way you play your guitar… & the way I daydream about kissing your lips... I can’t wait until the sparks of your tongue burn my mouth send electric shocks through my body Cutie… with the funny jokes, You make me laugh. Today you made me laugh, like you always do, you’re the only one who can now a days. Baby, with those sparkling eyes, Your eyes haunt me whether I'm dreaming or not And what haunts me more is the fact that I can’t have you now because you ruined it It hurts to think about it, So I have to block you out. Play your songs to someone else, Read your silly lines of heartache to someone else, And go find… someone else.
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47
In a wakeful contradiction, It lays fact between my fiction. Tangling subatomics, It unravels, as its tricks spin Deeper, toward the outward . . .                              It won’t let up, Until I give in. Over matter, lay my mind . . . I tell a lie to pass the time . . . But there’s no reason nor a rhyme —                              Less still, a purpose? I search for something To remind my mind         That there is truth, That isn’t worthless. But as always, failure appears In a sort-of amnesiac continuity, And my reality lies to my own mind, Just as well As it succeeds in its futility. With destruction as its manifest, It tells me that I stand my tallest Upon two buckled knees. Just as faith will find one’s doubt —                   A search within has left without. It seems that an answer, once sought out,                   Will be left lacking its question. My truth divides itself,                    As the product Of infinite misdirection. I try to substitute a reason, for a rhyme. But with no lies left to pass the time . . .                       I swallow a dose of ignorance. It goes down Smoother than the truth. In a war that started with a truce, This world betrayed my faith To show me:        That I'm only tall enough             Once I’ve been                                                   cut                                                     down                                                            slowly. A pill too large to swallow,          I think I’m choking on myself Or the irony of asking,            “How could I be so careless?” Here I stand, Barely standing,                    Consumed almost entirely By my own dry-heaving self-awareness Each night I am left to fight the fears That my nightmares create; I’m still running from my past,                    Yet, haunted by my fate. They walk beside me always,                    Shadowing wholeheartedly — They exist as a duality, Both “apart from,”                          And “a part of” me. In truth, These ghosts have taught me very little,                           Aside from what I hate. But, I've come to learn, not to fear                           The forceful hands of fate. For, I shudder not, at the thought of destiny,                           Or the inevitable in time . . . Instead, I fear the eventuality of the choices That were solely, And entirely, mine. I fear that my will may be Of enough influence, alone . . . That fate itself may collapse Beneath decisions like my own. Or that I, myself, Might be constructing What destruction I will find Among my shattered spirits And convictions, In these depths, to which I climb. ​
0
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 9:43 PM UTC
A Search Within Has Left Without
In a wakeful contradiction, It lays fact between my fiction. Tangling subatomics, It unravels, as its tricks spin Deeper, toward the outward . . .                              It won’t let up, Until I give in. Over matter, lay my mind . . . I tell a lie to pass the time . . . But there’s no reason nor a rhyme —                              Less still, a purpose? I search for something To remind my mind         That there is truth, That isn’t worthless. But as always, failure appears In a sort-of amnesiac continuity, And my reality lies to my own mind, Just as well As it succeeds in its futility. With destruction as its manifest, It tells me that I stand my tallest Upon two buckled knees. Just as faith will find one’s doubt —                   A search within has left without. It seems that an answer, once sought out,                   Will be left lacking its question. My truth divides itself,                    As the product Of infinite misdirection. I try to substitute a reason, for a rhyme. But with no lies left to pass the time . . .                       I swallow a dose of ignorance. It goes down Smoother than the truth. In a war that started with a truce, This world betrayed my faith To show me:        That I'm only tall enough             Once I’ve been                                                   cut                                                     down                                                            slowly. A pill too large to swallow,          I think I’m choking on myself Or the irony of asking,            “How could I be so careless?” Here I stand, Barely standing,                    Consumed almost entirely By my own dry-heaving self-awareness Each night I am left to fight the fears That my nightmares create; I’m still running from my past,                    Yet, haunted by my fate. They walk beside me always,                    Shadowing wholeheartedly — They exist as a duality, Both “apart from,”                          And “a part of” me. In truth, These ghosts have taught me very little,                           Aside from what I hate. But, I've come to learn, not to fear                           The forceful hands of fate. For, I shudder not, at the thought of destiny,                           Or the inevitable in time . . . Instead, I fear the eventuality of the choices That were solely, And entirely, mine. I fear that my will may be Of enough influence, alone . . . That fate itself may collapse Beneath decisions like my own. Or that I, myself, Might be constructing What destruction I will find Among my shattered spirits And convictions, In these depths, to which I climb. ​
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80
I may not be I may not be the fastest I may not be the tallest Or the strongest I may not be the best Or the brightest But one thing I can do better Than anyone else... That is To be me
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27.1k
I may not be
i used to climb the tallest tree just to leave behind the ground sing as loud as i could breathe about the shapes of passing clouds mum would haller up to the heavens:              "STOP IT !" ... "they’ll think you’re Mad!" ... whoever  "they"   were  (?)!     i naively pondered thence  ―     now,     the tree is gone,        "they" chopped  it            all the way down to memories and decomposing roots     but i still see life unspool     in the silent shapes of clouds                     and   hear the birds sing sweetly      without a single word ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☼  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁                    jesse
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Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
Theater of the Clouds
348 I dreaded that first Robin, so, But He is mastered, now, I’m accustomed to Him grown, He hurts a little, though— I thought If I could only live Till that first Shout got by— Not all Pianos in the Woods Had power to mangle me— I dared not meet the Daffodils— For fear their Yellow Gown Would pierce me with a fashion So foreign to my own— I wished the Grass would hurry— So—when ’twas time to see— He’d be too tall, the tallest one Could stretch—to look at me— I could not bear the Bees should come, I wished they’d stay away In those dim countries where they go, What word had they, for me? They’re here, though; not a creature failed— No Blossom stayed away In gentle deference to me— The Queen of Calvary— Each one salutes me, as he goes, And I, my childish Plumes, Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment Of their unthinking Drums—
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14.6k
I dreaded that first Robin, so
As for her, She might has forgotten where the home is in the world For she's always everywhere— in every countries she crossed on every streets she wandered at every motels she spent the night above the sand and ocean breeze below the tallest buildings and crowded bridges.. But you, You make her feel like the closest thing to feeling that again
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Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
The Lost Wanderer
Once I undertook a journey, upon the very face of our entire world. To view for myself the many pictures, and written descriptions in all the geography books and History Classes, National Geographic magazines and movies seen. A Quest to see with my own eyes what I had only experienced second hand. In my mid twenties, like a dream, one foot in front of the other, I went about exploring. I sniffed and tasted the scents of foreign lands, Incense, Sage and Frankincense, fish curry, fried snake and even monkey brains. Walked in lush Jungle Bush and Desert sands, Along the shores of Islands and the coasts of many lands. Heard the voices of 30 divergent Dialects and cultures, smiling and laughing with the families and children of all of them. Set beside the fires of primitive tribal men, heard their chants to their gods above, the moon, stars and the sun, the ocean, the land. Clapped my hands and moved my feet in their ancient mystic dances. Drank their tea, Kava or whatever they shared grateful for their offered unselfish brotherhood. Stood on the flanks of the tallest Mountains in the world, on my toe tips, to try to see the face of the God of my youthful teachings, disappointed when I did not see him, or Her. Found instead an inner tranquility, imparted to me by Red robbed Monks from within their chants of Peace and wise earthly enlightenments. Strolled the cobbled streets of two thousand year old Cities. Walked among the ruined remnants of nearly forgotten once great Civilizations. Explored Modern European Citadels' of wealth and learning. Over time rode on planes, ships, buses, backs of open trucks, Horse pulled carts and human drawn rickshaws, taxis, subways, rented motorcycles and cars.  Walked perhaps 1000 miles. In all a journey of the mind and heart lasting three years. And why you might ask, "What qualifies you as a pilgrim of any kind, to travel so far, and wide?" "What was I looking for, what did I hope to find?"   All indeed, fare questions. When a boy, I read a simple five word line, “Seek and thee shall find". Curiosity and Horizon Lust compelled me.   The next obvious question you might ask is, after all that; “What did you find?” That answer is very simple, I found myself.
0
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
. . . . . . . . Seek . . .
Once I undertook a journey, upon the very face of our entire world. To view for myself the many pictures, and written descriptions in all the geography books and History Classes, National Geographic magazines and movies seen. A Quest to see with my own eyes what I had only experienced second hand. In my mid twenties, like a dream, one foot in front of the other, I went about exploring. I sniffed and tasted the scents of foreign lands, Incense, Sage and Frankincense, fish curry, fried snake and even monkey brains. Walked in lush Jungle Bush and Desert sands, Along the shores of Islands and the coasts of many lands. Heard the voices of 30 divergent Dialects and cultures, smiling and laughing with the families and children of all of them. Set beside the fires of primitive tribal men, heard their chants to their gods above, the moon, stars and the sun, the ocean, the land. Clapped my hands and moved my feet in their ancient mystic dances. Drank their tea, Kava or whatever they shared grateful for their offered unselfish brotherhood. Stood on the flanks of the tallest Mountains in the world, on my toe tips, to try to see the face of the God of my youthful teachings, disappointed when I did not see him, or Her. Found instead an inner tranquility, imparted to me by Red robbed Monks from within their chants of Peace and wise earthly enlightenments. Strolled the cobbled streets of two thousand year old Cities. Walked among the ruined remnants of nearly forgotten once great Civilizations. Explored Modern European Citadels' of wealth and learning. Over time rode on planes, ships, buses, backs of open trucks, Horse pulled carts and human drawn rickshaws, taxis, subways, rented motorcycles and cars.  Walked perhaps 1000 miles. In all a journey of the mind and heart lasting three years. And why you might ask, "What qualifies you as a pilgrim of any kind, to travel so far, and wide?" "What was I looking for, what did I hope to find?"   All indeed, fare questions. When a boy, I read a simple five word line, “Seek and thee shall find". Curiosity and Horizon Lust compelled me.   The next obvious question you might ask is, after all that; “What did you find?” That answer is very simple, I found myself.
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53
the insecure girl who sees the beauty in the twinkling stars and constellations but refuses to see the ones in her hazel eyes the insecure girl who sees the beauty in the tallest mountains and the steepest hills but refuses to see beauty in her most beautiful ***** and most curvy behind the insecure girl who sees the beauty in the scorching sun and the glowing moon but refuses to see beauty in her warmest embrace and her illuminating smile the insecure girl who sees the beauty in everything but refuses to see beauty in herself
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Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
the insecure girl
I. the emperor sleeps in a palace of porphyry which was a million years building he takes the air in a howdah of jasper beneath saffron umbrellas upon an elephant twelve foot high behind whose ear sits always a crowned king twir- ling an ankus of ebony the fountains of the emperor’s palace run sunlight and moonlight and the emperor’s elephant is a thousand years old the harem of the emperor is carpeted with gold cloth from the ceiling(one diamond timid with nesting incense) fifty marble pillars slipped from immeasurable height,fall,fifty,silent in the incense is tangled a cool moon there are thrice-three-hundred doors carven of chalcedony and before every door a naked ****** watches on their heads turbans of a hundred colours in their hands scimitars like windy torches each is blacker than oblivion the ladies of the emperor’s harem are queens of all the earth and the rings upon their hands are from mines a mile deep but the body of the queen of queens is more transparent than water,she is softer than birds 2. when the emperor is very amorous he reclines upon the couch of couches and beckons with the little finger of his left hand then the thrice-three-hundredth door is opened by the tallest ****** and the queen of queens comes forth ankles musical with large pearls kingdoms in her ears at the feet of the emperor a cithern- player squats with quiveringgold body behind the emperor ten elected warriors with bodies of lazy jade and twitching eyelids finger their unquiet spears the queen of queens is dancing her subtle body weaving insinuating upon the gold cloth incessantly creates patterns of sudden lust her stealing body ex- pending gathering pouring upon itself stiffenS to a white thorn of desire the taut neck of the citharede wags in the dust the ghastly warriors amber with lust breathe together the emperor,exerting himself among his pillows throws jewels at the queen of queens and white money upon her nakedness he nods and all depart through the bruised air aflutter with pearls 3. they are alone he beckons,she rises she stands a moment in the passion of the fifty pillars listening while the queens of all the earth writhe upon deep rugs
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11.2k
The Emperor
I. the emperor sleeps in a palace of porphyry which was a million years building he takes the air in a howdah of jasper beneath saffron umbrellas upon an elephant twelve foot high behind whose ear sits always a crowned king twir- ling an ankus of ebony the fountains of the emperor’s palace run sunlight and moonlight and the emperor’s elephant is a thousand years old the harem of the emperor is carpeted with gold cloth from the ceiling(one diamond timid with nesting incense) fifty marble pillars slipped from immeasurable height,fall,fifty,silent in the incense is tangled a cool moon there are thrice-three-hundred doors carven of chalcedony and before every door a naked ****** watches on their heads turbans of a hundred colours in their hands scimitars like windy torches each is blacker than oblivion the ladies of the emperor’s harem are queens of all the earth and the rings upon their hands are from mines a mile deep but the body of the queen of queens is more transparent than water,she is softer than birds 2. when the emperor is very amorous he reclines upon the couch of couches and beckons with the little finger of his left hand then the thrice-three-hundredth door is opened by the tallest ****** and the queen of queens comes forth ankles musical with large pearls kingdoms in her ears at the feet of the emperor a cithern- player squats with quiveringgold body behind the emperor ten elected warriors with bodies of lazy jade and twitching eyelids finger their unquiet spears the queen of queens is dancing her subtle body weaving insinuating upon the gold cloth incessantly creates patterns of sudden lust her stealing body ex- pending gathering pouring upon itself stiffenS to a white thorn of desire the taut neck of the citharede wags in the dust the ghastly warriors amber with lust breathe together the emperor,exerting himself among his pillows throws jewels at the queen of queens and white money upon her nakedness he nods and all depart through the bruised air aflutter with pearls 3. they are alone he beckons,she rises she stands a moment in the passion of the fifty pillars listening while the queens of all the earth writhe upon deep rugs
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119
‘We live with forest’ and ‘forest live with us’! Tallest tree of the forest is the symbol of our hope, The Python is our messenger of past, Blossoming flower of grassland are our depiction of smile, Birds are the our fortune teller, Earthworms are our marker, Butterflies are our messenger of worship, We design our life with them, They are our image of clan and family, We can’t live without them, Our aspiration is tuned with their respiration, We are cheerful with them! *** Now, out of the blue, you arrived and say we are poor! So, you will build industry for us and give job to us! But for that, You occupy our land, our forest, our friends and respiration, We never thought! ‘You are such a pitiable’ That you can’t build anything without our forest, But you say, ‘we are poor’! **** Please, go away from our blessed place Don’t wipe out our friend! We are rich and happy with the blessing of our friend There is no need of your industry, Please go away Leave us alone we will design our destination.
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Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
Depart and vacate our forest!
The wind The fatherless child . The tallest tree on the hill?--there! ---- The child scribbles Hard to read The love poem . . Where's the love? --- Bombs bombs everywhere The tall pine tree Love poem of the fatherless child ---- I am a fatherless child Wind The love scattered thru the pines -- The tallest tree Still is there
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Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
New morning song
I am not probably the cuttest girl, or the tallest, or skinny with ***** ,abs and **** but i surely love you, what I feel for you is an endless love,something that even my dad cant break, or a jealous ex-girlfriend.We were made for each other, and I want to be yours forever♥
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Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
What I feel for you
The tallest mountain Once lay dormant Confined between Tectonic plates Tremors and upheavals Jolted it from slumber Broke away from the shackles Of solitary confinement And oppression Grazed and razed with every move Now reaches the summit To kiss the soft clouds In silent meditation for ages Mighty and tall, towers above all Revered by many
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
The Mountain
Do you remember the simple times? No worries, no pain, just simple glories Of building the tallest and largest building Just made out of bricks of colorful pieces Each one sticking to one another Piling up by color and size You would put on a smile filled with pride Whenever you finished every brick on top another But what did you do when you left and came back then all you’ve built was broken and gone? “Don’t cry, child, it was only legos, time for the real thing now.” was what you were told. “This time, child, don’t make your dreams out of lego bricks.” a. gale
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
Lego Dreams
I don't know who you are I don't know what you do I don't know where you are But I know that You have wrecked me Mentally, psychologically and socially Rendering me incoherent in speech And incapable of action Reduced to a blundering mass Of bloated bones and sinew Ready to collapse like a pack of cards At the slightest hint of a crisis I don't know who you are I don't know what you do I don't know where you are But I know that You have wrecked me And you shall pay dearly for it Whether it be death by a thousand cuts Or a pill of cyanide in your cup of tea Or a bullet right in your temple Or a mighty fall from the tallest tower Or a bite from a venomous serpent Or a decapitation by the mighty guillotine Or even, having your soul ****** out From your filthy mouth I don't know who you are I don't know what you do I don't know where you are But I know that You have wrecked me And I shall not rest Until I finish you, once and for all And the world is rid, of your menace
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Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 5:51 AM UTC
You have wrecked me
She dances, Alone. In such grace and poise Positioned in between the tallest buildings And she poses For the camera The bright flashes Or on stage In the spotlight Twirling and twisting Not a hair out of place Not a step out of line Not a breath unplanned Trained to be accurate Self destructing, but so well collected The most beautiful dancer the world has ever seen.
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Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 12:57 AM UTC
Ballerina
I said I'll meet you by the water Just follow the path down the shore. Follow me across the world, to a place that's left unexplored. We'll carve our names into the tallest tree, reaching up towards the heavens and skies. We'll count the stars as we leave, to the other side of the island. Drag a stick through the sand, drawing tiny infinities. and then we will sleep in the trees, it's safe, trust me. Look at the skies and watch the clouds roll by, they were all ours. We traced constellations with our fingers, and talked in the language of the stars, so they smiled back at us and sang us songs to sleep. There is an island named after us. A legend of a pariah duo. Oh, the stories this place will hold.
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Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
Mokasowa
Light of my life Shining bright destroying darkness Her laughter is healing Smiles mischieviously Or just full of happiness Silly little girl Ruler of my heart Dances with flowers Sniffs puppy dogs Blue green eyes sparkle with laughter Babbles until you understand Dimples form Mirth overflowing My name always on her lips Calling me even when apart This princess My treasure An adorable Klingon Runs around blowing kisses Singing, talking always making noise Sweetest sound in the world Curious, afraid of nothing Exploring everything Climbing tables instead of trees Someday the tallest trees will be yours to conquer But for now Rest peacefully in my arms
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Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:21 PM UTC
My Niece
the tectonic plates in me are shifting as our continents approach collide my ocean is getting closer to the mountains on your landscape tallest grasses blowing in wild demon dance, shaking their heads as heated storm approaches oven-baked air crackling with its own electric currents Nothing can stop it it's a magnetic force one to be reckoned with surrendered to as dust foams like ocean froth around our heads clinging to us in tiny starlit fragments and soon will come the slick dive into wordless waters, just skin on skin slippery mouth muscles like entwined snakes flick-flicking, shiny in eye-lit cherry moons Take my hand. Just pull me in. Enfold me, without talking watch as my aura rushes into you, first a delicate whisk of cool light to slake the thirst of coal-licked caverns then sparks and bubbling oxidation turning into liquid brushfire Hold your palm to my chest, as if to keep my heart steady, my glowing flare of halo pressed into your clavicle, taking in the embryonic beats soothing my torrid ache, infusing minerals in vitamin-laced libation It is time to simply bask in the new crispness of radical shake off the silt and salt and rise up into the spheres of memory of soulspeak of collapsed time zones budded breath spiraling up in curls, diaphanous dark mist ascending into light
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Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
tectonic shift
# *Upon a nice mid-spring day, I take a look at Nature's way. And breathe the scent of nice fresh air, Feeling the breeze within my hair. The grass pokes between my toes, As I smell the flowers with my nose. Clouds form shapes within the skies, As light glistens from my eyes. I hear the buzzing of the bees, That climb the tallest willow trees. I look across the meadow way, And see a young deer at its play. I pick the daisies as they grow, And watch a gentle cold stream flow. I hear the sounds of water splash, And catch its glimmer in a flash. When altogether it all seems sound, I lay myself upon the ground. To take a moment to inhale, And listen to Nature tell her tale...* #
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Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 12:11 PM UTC
Nature’s Way
The grass is green And blue is the sky The air is clean And the clouds sail by Far up in the Tallest tree The birds sing Jolly and free The children are running In the meadows and play It truly is a beautiful day Our hearts are warm And free from fear That's how we know Summer is here
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Summer
The weather is sunny The sun blazes the call of Spring. Awakening out of my Winter frame of mind I gain more youthful Energies and Glow Like a Ring Made of Gold. I feel renewed A newer version of myself,reborn. For that's what Spring is all about. Renewing one's self and feeling free to tell all From even the tallest mountain top with a glorious shout. Fresh ideas, conversations with friends and loved ones, and the start of even new true love. Spring brings me a heart that beats knowing that I am fresher, newer, and somewhat "Reborn." To rewind our clocks and forget the past. It's time. To enjoy not just a new and fresher season of sun and warmth.. We should understad that a new foundation for our futures is being laid... Right under our footsteps. For such is Spring and the rest will all come to reward us in just time.
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Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 5:15 AM UTC
Springtime. Fresher and Newer, I am.
Exotic & dangerous Life is shorter than what we know or think so i must enjoy my life freely do the extreme things before i die Had to do  things that i want and dreams that i want to fulfill even from my last breathe Because i want to Because im curious of every single thing Even from the way you breathe or **** Then i want to spread this and lend me a hand Then come with me! And make this world worth living! then we can jump to tallest building like hell This things that i wanted really so bad To fly somewhere were everyone can't recognize me To play in the rain and be a kid once again To travel around the world were i can find myself and perhaps discover something knew that i haven't been before Go picnic and eat some snacks with friends were i could laugh on top of  my lungs Go partyin' late at night were i can control and make some noise like a dj bass Go to a concert to a great rock band Go shopping to the mall and be a fashion clique Produce a music were birds could come and go with you Represent to your country and be a world champion human beatbox Write stories and be an author of my own journey Cause YOLO you only live once in your life and there *g     o             e                          s*                      A        D       V           E       N        T           U         R                E
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Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
I had to take risk
I keep finding peaches Peaches I don't think it's possible to not smile when you say the word they turn my cheeks the same color as their skin it makes me grin and laugh to see them sunbathing on the banister lining the window sills like shining trophies on my porch like children climbing to Set upon the tallest object They can find beaming as children do Maybe it's cuz I grew up in the south Knowing you have to set them out And wait for them to be soft to      the touch let them ripen in the Sun so you can then pick your fruit that up      until now has been forbidden it's like a little fuzzy ball of gold Sunshine warming your face and      your mouth I love the word peaches maybe it's the memory, the name, Peaches “chin up, peaches” it carrie's such an innocence such a light-hearted, free-spirited      happiness. something warm and welcoming and something I could only find at home maybe it's the breakfast peaches and cream three ingredients so happy, so creamy, so sweet, smooth, summary, comforting it's what my grandma would give me so sugary, yet so filling it reminds me of her it tastes how she act it is her hyperbole peaches and cream is a grandmother it's as sweet as her voice as comforting as her touch as filling as her hug and as smooth as her skin. maybe it's all three either way this time of Peach field windowsills will come again next year and the year after that and the year after that until I am the grandmother they represent and every year, I will smile.
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Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC
Peaches
I keep finding peaches Peaches I don't think it's possible to not smile when you say the word they turn my cheeks the same color as their skin it makes me grin and laugh to see them sunbathing on the banister lining the window sills like shining trophies on my porch like children climbing to Set upon the tallest object They can find beaming as children do Maybe it's cuz I grew up in the south Knowing you have to set them out And wait for them to be soft to      the touch let them ripen in the Sun so you can then pick your fruit that up      until now has been forbidden it's like a little fuzzy ball of gold Sunshine warming your face and      your mouth I love the word peaches maybe it's the memory, the name, Peaches “chin up, peaches” it carrie's such an innocence such a light-hearted, free-spirited      happiness. something warm and welcoming and something I could only find at home maybe it's the breakfast peaches and cream three ingredients so happy, so creamy, so sweet, smooth, summary, comforting it's what my grandma would give me so sugary, yet so filling it reminds me of her it tastes how she act it is her hyperbole peaches and cream is a grandmother it's as sweet as her voice as comforting as her touch as filling as her hug and as smooth as her skin. maybe it's all three either way this time of Peach field windowsills will come again next year and the year after that and the year after that until I am the grandmother they represent and every year, I will smile.
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