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Yenson Aug 2018
So it came to pass at last and sad to know a Timber has fallen
It stood in strength tall and strong for over seven decades
Resplendently toned it spread an uncompromising foliage
Masterly in domain magical in reach attaining untold grades
Humble in origins yet grew with endeavour and knowledge
Distinguishably it cut sway in tundra and in lush green glades

Son of sons of the Land held roots countenancing no crawling
It reached for the stars and danced reasons with every shades
Ran with the sun and sat with owls and vipers for tutelage
Sweeping the very highs and the lows in communal trades
In the jungle of sharks and vipers it be known who's in Charge
A Timber has fallen while the rains falls and blue clouds fades

There's now a mighty hole in the earth and rivers are swollen
Leaves scatter and branches beckon hundreds of onward bridges
Leaving best Princess, flowers and saplings for love and largesse
A notable trunk laid supine free to roam without worldly cages
Odes will enter dancing in guises and tears flow without finesse
A Timber has fallen and dirges will ring out for a man of all ages

Yemessia bows and says Adieu My Senior, we will meet again.....


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Megan Apr 2018
I tried to take a picture
Of everyday I was with you
I tried to take a picture
Of all the happiness you bring

I tried to take a picture
Of the flowers that you sent
The ones that were red
With that very strong scent

I tried to take a picture
Of the day that shined so bright
The way the sun radiated yellow
Giving us its light

I tried to take a picture
Of the nights by the lake
Where we sat in the blackened dark
Smoking getting baked

I tried to take a picture
Of the smile on my face
But I turned the camera around
To hide the clear but staining tears that raced

I tried to take a picture
Of the love around me,dear
But an uncompromising flash burnout
Causes me fear

I tried to take a picture
Of the happiness you bring
But what I captured
Was the truth and its sting
Jose Valle May 24
A Winter of Sleep
 
Like a standing-by tribe of leafless birch trees,
My solitude remains entrenched on this Idaho frozen land.
This alluring land of uncompromising sinuos snowed hills.
My bed to rest.
The unyielding beauty of big sapphire blue skies.
A solid promise for hope to come. 
But I remain still. 
Deep sleep sounds so nice. 
 
Yes, in this land I hibernate in unseen caves of my own carved memories.
Yet, my faithful sun always shines. 
A reminder of his eternal promise.
To daily rise.
To daily shine.
To daily warm. 
 
Until then, my wintered solitude remains still.
Like birch trees waiting for the golden leaves to come,
I wait.
I’m not afraid.
I remain still.
Until then, deep sleep sounds do nice.
annh Jan 22
Time threads her necklace patiently,
Choosing carefully the colour and shape of our experiences,
Here, a tumbled quartz - luminous and rosy,
There, shards of darkest onyx - tragic and uncompromising,
Every now and again, a perfect sphere of sacred turquoise to mark a special occasion.

Finally, satisfied with her handiwork Time ties off the strand,
And weaves the precious metal of our dreams - unrealised - into an intricate clasp,
As she places the memento around her bejewelled neck she sighs to herself and whispers:
‘Such promise, such pain, such beauty, such loss; I will treasure you always.’
Then reaching for her spool of silver thread, she begins again to thread her golden needle.
Photo among photos:
a rainbow arc cuts into the cataract.
Niagara's churning water,
chipped green-glowing rock-water
bears the Maid of Mist in the midst of the waters' roar,
bears my longing to return to Canada.

How vast and immense is my mother
of many faces: the 17th century spirit
casting a spell on Quebec city visitors,
the selfsame spirit haunting Old Montreal;
the quiet dignity, the many candles and quiet
cradling consolation in St. Joseph Oratory;
the rugged, uncompromising snowy looks
loved by climbers in British Columbia;
the lone goose skirting meltwater glass,
a piercing voice in Banff National Park
of Alberta; the playful tussles of polar bears
in Wapsuk National Park of Manitoba;
the blizzards blowing, turning highway cars
into lights blooming from another realm;
the ice storms paralyzing trees, armed
with countless icicles falling, about to fall;
the children immersed in Ontario's glow
somewhere beyond the reach of storms,
hockey sticks clacking, the ice and snow aglow.

How vast and immense are you, mother
of many faces, you the bearer of extremes,
the bearer of winters and gentle dreams
of spring, wildflowers of Prince Edward Island,
boats quietly moored to the Island's docks,
the green oboe sound of glistening moss
nearby, on some protruding rocks.

Your voices are heard through ducks of different shades,
through geese of different shades and hues,
the tundra and trumpeter swans and blue jays.
Your voices resound as different seasons,
your voices those of different groups and races,
the stirrings of green and yellow and red leaves.
Mother, magnificent, vital and young,
fierce and gentle at once, mother of childhood gleams
of pine, pine needles, mother of possibility,
I ache and yearn
to return.
ahmo Sep 2018
i'm absorbing the pain of your lacerations -
the tattoos of your mother's screams
etched in between your knuckles.

a canvass,
whitened and deeply dented,
takes the form of wordless, celestial aspiration -
the manifestation of release from an invisible prison.

your clanging tin cup on the bars asks for logic -
in response,
the uncompromising transmission sits in silence.

your mind does not deserve such a fate.

under opaque bedsheets,
a reversal in perspective unlocks the gate.

a house divided may only stand
if division negotiates with gravity
in blind faith.
Sometimes I want to be lost and forgotten
To be free to roam and wander
No responsibility attached
No obligation left behind
To be erased from all the memories I reside in
From all the hearts I took refuge in
I have this innate, uncompromising selfish desire
To be free, from everything
Dan Jun 10
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood”

It is written in the Hagakure
That when faced with situations
Of life and death
To choose death
For it is more honorable to do so and die
Than to choose life
Retreat
And then die all the same

Is this what it means to be bold?
To strike out
Against odds that seem impossible?
To stand strong and shout out the eternal phrase of
“I don’t give a ****”
The one in the arena
The ultimate stoic
Uncompromising but not cruel

I must become a man of action
And though it is not the singular soul that drives history forward
Those who do so are not passive
Not timid
They do what must be done
Like Lenin
They are reasonable people
Even when pushed to do things that seem unreasonable at the time

This is how one must be bold
Taking hold of that great spirit that drives all great people of action
To be determined, strong, discipline,
More virtues to be explored
Legs strong as sequoias
I stand on stage in front of you
Reminding myself
And urging those of you who need to hear this
Stand in that arena
Do not choose retreat
Be bold
And leave your mark on the world around you
First of a series on virtues. Quote at the beginning from Theodore Roosevelt
Keith Mitchell Oct 2018
fierce
Lilly Flower Goddess
wouldn’t budge
standing strong
loving herself
challenged walkthrough
cat eyes blatantly glaring
attentive
situation at hand
handled
like a *******
boss
ruler of her domain
guarded sanctuary
trespassing
not advised
she’s shielded
unconditional love for herself
barrier of sorts
only the reflection
of the same permitted
drop her drawbridge
path leading to the
kingdom of her heart
surrounded by moat flowing
lava glowing and meandering
like a precious river
inextinguishable beauty
guarding grace
her ideas with love
uncompromising thirst
for her body is her temple
One Love
Consider for a moment that everything was true
That every bashful joke and coquettish compliments were a declaration
A means to accentuate how far my thoughts had fallen from grace
Into the expanse where the goddess Venus, Aphrodite, and Lilith reign
Nurturing this lustful appetite and fueling these flames of passion

Give me the choice that Pleasure and Virtue gave the mighty Hercules,
And I will always choose glory for hard work and dedication will always yield the best reward
Provide me with my twelve labors to prove my worth and virtue to you, my Goddess
Allow me to satiate this primal urges once my task is completed
Let me provide for you

For this appetite craves to explore the dominion of your body
Hands ravishing your flesh, entrancing through kneading and massaging
From your shoulders to your feet, spreading the warmth  equally throughout
Weary muscles and taut limbs, allowing you to relax and succumb to the feeling
Let me worship you

Awaiting patiently for your voice to slips between your succulent lips
The cries and moans of pleasure as I stimulate  all your of erogenous zones,
Strumming each of those strings to play of song of never before heard
Each note played with the passion and intensity of a man in heat
Let me please you

As for this ritual, allow my tongue to make my obeisance
Let it roam freely over the contours of your crown
Showing you that my devotion to you is absolute
And may you accept my act of reverence humbly
And lets those cries and screams of adoration echo in our sanctuary

Grant me permission to sacrifice my body at the altar in your name
As my final act of reverence,  let me give all of me to you
Allow me to sweat and cry out as I please you with my body
Each impassioned ****** as a testament to my unyielding devotion and uncompromising love
May I finished knowing that I have given my everything to you,
Happily

And I would do it all again in the next life
In the name of love… for you
I will give everything for your love...
shiv Nov 2018
his love is like the sea
as uncompromising
and remorseless
as the current
tends to be
John Bartholomew Aug 2018
If you've not done it then you are a liar too
The luxury of the able-bodied to have a sneaky little poo
Look left, look right, there's nobody about
A peaceful time for what's needed now
A better handwash and a cleaner surround,
from the ceiling to extractor fan
Even onto the white grout

I'm not one to judge as I'd been there before
From a night in Yates's where they want your key to sniff coke
These private, uncompromising rooms have a life of their own, with stories I will not joke

The people of most Wetherspoons have a disabled key they use on a daily basis
Nothing wrong with them all, the odd one with a genuine NHS bracelet,
I tell you now, you really do start to hate it

But it is nice to be away from the majority of the public in a life I did not choose
Occupied, red dial turned, out come a pair of girls mostly half drunk, always together as a two
That is probably why it gets me down, a daily occurrence,
it affects us all,

These,

Disabled bog blues

JJB
My disability exists not because I use a wheelchair, but because the broader environment isn't accessible - Stella Young

The world worries about disability more than disabled people do - Warwick Davis

"Aerodynamically the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly, but the bumblebee doesn't know that so it goes on flying anyway" - Mary Kay Ash

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