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"unbarred" poems
It's a wide open art, from the start. Rules are for schools. Dont fret em, forget em. So Relax with a syntax, clown around, with a pronoun. Squeeze the ****** of a dangling participle. Free flying like geese, creative words release, make it up if you please. Example--the plural of mice is meese. Flowery language isn't the exclusive domain of the professional writer, it's for everyone! To continue then, about the writers pen. No write or wrong, nothings too short or long. Mangled, bungled, butchered, bumbled, don't matter. We don't need a librarian to admire what we have done. Words aren't hard, fling them unbarred. It's not arithmetic, or teaching a cat a trick. Crunch them uniting, mix them combining. Fling them, meld them, Verb them, sell them. We don't need a New York Times best seller to enjoy the art of writing. Uncrate it, create it. Use it, and abuse it. Don't bar us from a thesaurus Or a dictionary. The spiel is to write real tell the tale seal the deal. WORD HATERS live in the town called Fictionary.
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 12:53 PM UTC
Writing with words. Fling them around if you will.
On Halloween the sky was scarred The full moon peered, a piercing shard, Behind a hole, the eye of night, Above the smell of death and fright, Along a bone laced boulevard. As corpses crept from crypts unbarred, The flames, they crawled, with pale regard, On roasting rot – a sanguine sight... On Halloween. The bones, they blanched within the yard, Again to have their evening marred By ghouls and fiends who rip and bite With claws and fangs which drip delight While gorging flesh, so slightly charred... On Halloween. ;-)
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
On Halloween (Rondeau)
*A wish to get me through the night Twin flames forever burning bright Lost souls who've found each other now Complete in knowledge that somehow We'll make it through However hard We'll grow together Love unbarred* (C) Pixievic 2016
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 10:10 AM UTC
A Wish
Sometimes I feel I give & give My love, my wisdom It's how I live But some people, they Just take & take They **** me dry With their heartache I boost them up Tell them they're fine Encourage them I'm their lifeline When times are tough When life is hard I rally round Love unbarred But where are they When I'm feeling down They're just not here They've all left town I say I'm blue I'm lost, I'm sad I need a hug I'm feeling bad But they don't respond To my plea My hopelessness They can not see They do not care Or can not cope With my despair There is no hope I guess I need To walk away For my self worth I can not stay It can't go on It has to change I need to find Some exchange I'm not unkind I just want to feel That they'll give it back That they'll be real And understand They can't just take Because Eventually I'll B r e a k (C) Pixievic
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May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 5:58 AM UTC
Some People .....
THE MUSE by Anna Akhmatova This is my English translation of an epigram by Anna Akhmatova … The MUSE by Anna Akhmatova loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My being hangs by a thread tonight as I await a Muse no human pen can command. The desires of my heart — youth, liberty, glory — now depend on the Maid with the flute in her hand. Look! Now she arrives; she flings back her veil; I meet her grave eyes — calm, implacable, pitiless. “Temptress, confess! Are you the one who gave Dante hell?” She answers, “Yes.” I have also translated this tribute poem written by Marina Tsvetaeva for Anna Akhmatova: Excerpt from “Poems for Akhmatova” by Marina Tsvetaeva loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch You outshine everything, even the sun at its zenith. The stars are yours! If only I could sweep like the wind through some unbarred door, gratefully, to where you are... to hesitantly stammer, suddenly shy, lowering my eyes before you, my lovely mistress, petulant, chastened, overcome by tears, as a child sobs to receive forgiveness... Keywords/Tags: Anna Akhmatova, Marina Tsvetaeva, Russia, Russian, translation, Muse, sun, stars, poems, poetry, poets, writing, mrbtran
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Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 7:42 AM UTC
THE MUSE by Anna Akhmatova
If I'd written My love poetry Years ago, When our passion Covered college sheets, When we were sleek And bared our bodies Boldly; When we wore our hair, Your ******* unbarred, When we rolled In your backyard, Wetter than the dew; That's one verse I'd write for you. Scratch out lines On your legs, See Venus rise From the nubile shell, Type stanzas To compare your eyes, Your neck, Your lips, Vis a vis; The tender terror Of our first kiss.
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Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Vis a Vis: The Tender Terror
Why? Why does this life feel so hollow Empty on the inside I see the people I hear other voices But not mine It doesn't matter Because I don't Alone Is what I fear Is what I am What I shall be? So it seems Quietly darkened by insignificance No solace in this solitude Nor escape from this unbarred cell I reach out And stop No one is there To take the hand So the heart withers Day by day it dies As a rose kept from the light A forget-me-not, forgotten
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 12:03 PM UTC
Why?
In the beginning, there was only you and I Then we were apart, somehow. We waited for ages, things over long ago To return to each others arms. There was searching, longing, and trust- Issues were brought to the fore. And then I found you there and thus We were together again once more. We met under a moonlit field, Somewhere under the arc of heaven We embraced, our restful reunion And our pace slowed with the other. And we lay in the field of flowers And we lay together, now we are Under the aurora of a tenuous fate Against a sight of unbarred sky. As we turn to each other our eyes Decry a song, and play our notes Telling the world of love that longed Through an epoch of silent ties. "There are tiny drops of rain, see The clouds are crying for us too." But you, you keep quiet and stare The air for us/still too new. But there's a beauty in the simple change Of shade between light and dark. Always together, never apart," She would remark, They will shift, and they will shift, They will choose, and chase They will shift, and they will shift Until Night gives way to Day." And speaking softly - “As they will shift, and they will shift All these subtle sights of november skies We will choose, and we will chase together, do you know why?. "Though things will shift and shift and change And our time will forever go by, We will choose, and we will chase each other, You and I."
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Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
The Arc of Heaven
in the damp corner of the morning yard where grey and quiet many secrets wait this is the time when nature stand unbarred not yet for us is life or fortune marred by force of life or family or state in the damp corner of the morning yard where not a bird or beast now stands on guard all fast asleep and seeming just to wait this is the time when nature stands unbarred to wary eyes and life seems not so hard as we are told and we may now create in the damp corner of the morning yard a better world with choices not so hard with sweeter wisdom and a kinder fate this is the time when nature stands unbarred one lucid moment before light is marred and all our knowledges begin to grate in the damp corner of the morning yard this is the time when nature stands unbarred
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Feb 20, 2010
Feb 20, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC
false dawn
A demure river converges with the sea and turns into a scepter of intrepidity. My eyes try to follow every ebbing wave into the strands of illimitable resurrection. The wind carries the clouds toward a ruffled terrain and turns sunshine into rain. Reckless movements seem to convey the act of solicitous tenderness. A forsaken lighthouse on a deserted island tries to revitalize the ship that never arrived. The enlightenment seems to brighten up its separateness From the world of decreasing congeniality. The resplendent pasture seems to absorb the colour from the verdant trees. Scintillating dewdrops variegate the cusp of the grass like an exhilarating crown. The inaudible murmur of pastoral life wraps the passing day in its tranquil impeccability. The lucent stars seem to burn the vacuousness of night with its satiating fire. Nature seems to have become the harbinger of my lost words That long ago manifested my dauntless but wretched love for you. The uncanny omnipresence of the unbarred memories seems to amalgamate The unreciprocated past and the abeyant present. Stirring thoughts in an invigorating mind seem to lose its scrupulousness In the midst of these harrowing days of ruthless truthfulness. The metaphors of nature seem to have juxtaposed with the feeble pieces of my fragile heart. The ineradicable retrospection of moon-sharing nights seem to have emerged From the irreducible darkness around me. The twinkling shadows of inseparable hearts seem to converge Into the enticing hills of the unlit valley. The honest moon seems to have lost its sagaciousness in the night of relinquished lovers. The closing day is enamored of the festering odor of onrushing annihilation. The transcendental road to salvation merges into the heath of transcalent despondency.
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Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
Pessimistic Renascence
A demure river converges with the sea and turns into a scepter of intrepidity. My eyes try to follow every ebbing wave into the strands of illimitable resurrection. The wind carries the clouds toward a ruffled terrain and turns sunshine into rain. Reckless movements seem to convey the act of solicitous tenderness. A forsaken lighthouse on a deserted island tries to revitalize the ship that never arrived. The enlightenment seems to brighten up its separateness From the world of decreasing congeniality. The resplendent pasture seems to absorb the colour from the verdant trees. Scintillating dewdrops variegate the cusp of the grass like an exhilarating crown. The inaudible murmur of pastoral life wraps the passing day in its tranquil impeccability. The lucent stars seem to burn the vacuousness of night with its satiating fire. Nature seems to have become the harbinger of my lost words That long ago manifested my dauntless but wretched love for you. The uncanny omnipresence of the unbarred memories seems to amalgamate The unreciprocated past and the abeyant present. Stirring thoughts in an invigorating mind seem to lose its scrupulousness In the midst of these harrowing days of ruthless truthfulness. The metaphors of nature seem to have juxtaposed with the feeble pieces of my fragile heart. The ineradicable retrospection of moon-sharing nights seem to have emerged From the irreducible darkness around me. The twinkling shadows of inseparable hearts seem to converge Into the enticing hills of the unlit valley. The honest moon seems to have lost its sagaciousness in the night of relinquished lovers. The closing day is enamored of the festering odor of onrushing annihilation. The transcendental road to salvation merges into the heath of transcalent despondency.
Continue reading...
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He stands there with a passive regard. The silence mirrors that of a graveyard. In front of a lit door, enters the wintry air. Extends his arm, welcomingly unbarred.
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Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 4:09 PM UTC
The Otherside
I am the eye on your shelf I am the scratches of ink that rip through unbarred arenas- when sunken bones and unburied prints amass a clump of galloping words tracing measured tracks of battles forlorn Hence my history beckons and the leather straps like tires machinal; my life reduced to rubble burn-marks in a book that made you look without a care for where- to put it. another whisper in the wind which once carried its conquered careful balance Now sits still as a spineless paperweight propped up by the heap of dust in your periphery
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Dec 27, 2023
Dec 27, 2023 at 12:25 PM UTC
The Shelf
I would you’d make me salt, cast my name to the tide, let the wind bear my ruin to lands unremembered. Twice, I split the sky, unbarred doors best left veiled, breathed storms where thy light once lay unshaken. Yet thou stand’st— unmoved, unbroken, a sky unyielding, a river that takes all, yet rages not. Wouldst thou burn, I should be smoke. Wouldst thou drown me, I should be rain. But thou lov’st still, and therein lies my undoing.
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Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 6:38 PM UTC
The Weight of Mercy
Unseen, unheard, invisible. Sad, alone, miserable. Too late I have realised - these are just words. It is time I break my bounds, step into shoes that fit, Thank you to those my world who have lit. No more scared or scarred, ready for a new dawn, my positivity unbarred.
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
Unseen, Unheard
I pray, stay wild my child... your spinning essence and dizzy head untouchable, stay crazed with wonder which cannot be defiled. Live lively, unmarred, unbarred, but you keep guard of your heart- leave them bewildered, stay beguiled. I have faith you'll stay wild because with your curious face and wandering gaze they read nothing of you when I saw it was your eyes that still smiled. It's your inwardness where there lies that wilderness. for those who may play to enter, there is an interstice... If you let them in, invite them to dance around your fire, and stay wilder than any child's soul prior.
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Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
Inwardness Gist
A snowman stood tall in the yard, His scarf and his hat were both starred, The children would play, On that cold, festive day, As Christmas arrived unbarred The carolers sang with delight, Their voices rang out through the night, With joy in the air, And warmth everywhere, It was truly a magical sight. The trees sparkled under the glow, The world wrapped in winter’s soft snow, The kids ran and cheered, The season appeared, And the fire in the hearth burned low. But the sun rose more sharply each day, The cold slowly started to sway, He felt in his frame, A loss he could name, As the chill slipped away with the gray. He knew his time was nearly through, As the world changed from white to blue, With a soft, final sigh, He whispered, “Goodbye,” And accepted the warm winds that grew.
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Jul 14, 2025
Jul 14, 2025 at 3:45 AM UTC
The Snowman
Inside the river beds of playful flights counting the pebbles overshadowing divine footsteps of unleashed corners Touching toe tips, rushing sole slips looking for the chariot cayote wings as unclogged wheels rev from the rear Drifting unbarred, glinding on ponds grounded plodding the zodiac rods Drafting on bars of rafted sounds Dream ohh creature of the heaven sail on the gates where lovers glaze arms then fall at the dare fin of blissfulness An angel kind with a kiss resurrected wiping tears with a smile of sentiment holding an exist in bed of cold nights
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Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 6:37 PM UTC
Playful flights
Poem written on my way home today "SPACES " There are spaces between my head, heart, soul and my breath They are the spaces where I can survive Like the nooks of an ancient tree Spaces that I can saturate with happy memories That I leave unbarred in all weathers As within these small places, I can switch off everything from this 3D life The gaps are at times, slight, like the seems between you're favourite jumper Or as vast as the stretch between each coming wave of the ocean. But no matter the breadth I trust the matter And as I stood within the pouring rain No shelter did I seek Thunderous, all encompassing Saturating The type that lands and resides inside the centre of your bones So deep and so cleansing There is no question that you have been washed pure Untainted And as the lightning placed its memory behind my eyes Where even my own mind blurs the vision And penetrated my ears Where once upon I couldn't hear I heard the power speak to me And with no further resistance I submitted I respected Related Repented..... Not to your God Not to any God Because no God belongs to anyone But to a place that I knew Understood me.... And to feel this? To feel emersed To trust in To give power to......... A smaller ego and love is all that's needed.... ❤️
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May 31, 2022
May 31, 2022 at 2:58 PM UTC
Spaces
I'm admired, some may say. My kindness, my courage, my unbarred humor. Carefree vegan, ambitious dreamer, propelled activist. All these describe me, but do they define me? Often times . . . after I reach my limit, I lay in bed. Stare up, in disappointment. My past sins creeping in, my future faults a movement away. All it takes is one wrong thought. Just with that, artificial confidence radiates my body. Unaccomplished goals drown within a drink. Past paralyzations demolished with moshes and blurry vision. My tongue shaping unfamiliar words, executed with inescapable dread. While cool wind invades pores, thoughts of others blare in ears. With such fast-paced nights, tomorrow becomes unworthy. But once midnight strikes, blotched mascara rests on my cheeks. Back in bed, familiarity ignites. I say my prayers, my thanks, my sorrows, then once again, float off towards my dreams.
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Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 1:35 PM UTC
Imposter
I thought i'd introduce myself Though you'd think that we have met See you've shaken my hand and heard my name But we havent had our meet-cute yet So ill say that i'm impatient And its nice to see a serene soul I apologize for my morose Sometimes this life it takes a toll You seem to shine nevertheless Strutting still in that red dress I just had to say hello But should I have tried to speak You would have misconstrued Looked passed my loving looks As you normally do I could not bare to trip on words Ive practiced in the mirror So imperfectly for you So meet me on this paper My soul open and unbarred As you do I will wait watching As always from afar Maybe just maybe On a day after youve read this note You will see through to me And I will see through to hope
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Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
Hello again