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"uplifts" poems
1519 The Dandelion’s pallid tube Astonishes the Grass, And Winter instantly becomes An infinite Alas— The tube uplifts a signal Bud And then a shouting Flower,— The Proclamation of the Suns That sepulture is o’er.
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10.6k
The Dandelion’s pallid tube
Tell my love the words that I am afraid to speak From the waves of the ocean to the highest mountain peak Expressed as my nature stays at a constant bliss Fluent in the way I am able to entertain this Your melody as it wraps a warm cloth to my heart Protecting from all that dare to tear us apart It flows, a strum of a string as it echoes afar From the pedestal arose the goddess to shine as the star As she shares her beauty with the world all to enjoy Listen to her hum as her voice does not annoy Rather it uplifts the soul as you feel the keys descend From the stroke of the pianist to the bittersweet end
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
Piano
Goldbrown upon the sated flood The rockvine clusters lift and sway; Vast wings above the lambent waters brood Of sullen day. A waste of waters ruthlessly Sways and uplifts its weedy mane Where brooding day stares down upon the sea In dull disdain. Uplift and sway, O golden vine, Your clustered fruits to love's full flood, Lambent and vast and ruthless as is thine Incertitude!
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7.7k
Flood
Can I write you a love song I’ll sing it softy in your ear all night long Blow gently without words on my saxophone Diamond and Pearls behind the throne A beautiful ensemble meant for only you As I give credence too Take my hand Cross this journey with me as I sing about faraway lands Past Egypt pyramids shifting Morocco sands Lay back my love, allow your mind to silently drift Feel the enchantment of my piano keys as it spiritual uplifts I’ll sing love songs of old A cappella chorus echoed from deep within my enlighten soul I’ll sing to you about the blues, society’s injustice, and elements of darken storms Keep your heart warm, while playing my French Horn Enrapture foretold from this dedicated symphonic poem A music sheet of percussion, woodwind, brass, keyboard, and strings Harmony carrying the mind away as the joy of coming spring I’ll hum your favorite beats, can you feel the crescendo now Fiddle from the heart by the sweat of one’s brow Submerge your cerebral cortex, lose yourself in the sultry tunes Harp sounds bathe of light kissed from the illuminating moon Destiny overcasts in the lyrics Fate floating stratospheric Karma of others handled in the eyes of satiric Opera, I give you so grand in its grace French Creole dialect murmured among silk and lace Sounds of my flute resonant to face Allowing my Cello sounds to thoroughly embrace Can I write you a love song Body and soul serenading soprano to keep you standing strong My guitar stringing your philosophies along An equal equation, one plus one equals two Emotions, feelings, sentiments, its tenor expressed only for you No compass to my heart, my seasonal love found in hidden melodies Trombone guiding back and forth breathless as it please Orchestra sounds Ascending minds, bodies, souls, pass the opening clouds, divine and profound The last note sung by me as we gradually come down Beautiful music embraced, needs never to make a sound Shh, close your eyes Meditate on the music for a little while Hush sweet baby don’t say a word My heart softly tweets to a mockingbird If that mockingbird don’t sing Can I write you a love song created only for your being As minds are sightseeing Hearts fleeing Timpani drums guaranteeing Entwined of our divine wellbeing Emotions freeing Crooning of bodies heard as the day is long Can I write you a love song
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Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
Can I Write You A Love Song
Can I write you a love song I’ll sing it softy in your ear all night long Blow gently without words on my saxophone Diamond and Pearls behind the throne A beautiful ensemble meant for only you As I give credence too Take my hand Cross this journey with me as I sing about faraway lands Past Egypt pyramids shifting Morocco sands Lay back my love, allow your mind to silently drift Feel the enchantment of my piano keys as it spiritual uplifts I’ll sing love songs of old A cappella chorus echoed from deep within my enlighten soul I’ll sing to you about the blues, society’s injustice, and elements of darken storms Keep your heart warm, while playing my French Horn Enrapture foretold from this dedicated symphonic poem A music sheet of percussion, woodwind, brass, keyboard, and strings Harmony carrying the mind away as the joy of coming spring I’ll hum your favorite beats, can you feel the crescendo now Fiddle from the heart by the sweat of one’s brow Submerge your cerebral cortex, lose yourself in the sultry tunes Harp sounds bathe of light kissed from the illuminating moon Destiny overcasts in the lyrics Fate floating stratospheric Karma of others handled in the eyes of satiric Opera, I give you so grand in its grace French Creole dialect murmured among silk and lace Sounds of my flute resonant to face Allowing my Cello sounds to thoroughly embrace Can I write you a love song Body and soul serenading soprano to keep you standing strong My guitar stringing your philosophies along An equal equation, one plus one equals two Emotions, feelings, sentiments, its tenor expressed only for you No compass to my heart, my seasonal love found in hidden melodies Trombone guiding back and forth breathless as it please Orchestra sounds Ascending minds, bodies, souls, pass the opening clouds, divine and profound The last note sung by me as we gradually come down Beautiful music embraced, needs never to make a sound Shh, close your eyes Meditate on the music for a little while Hush sweet baby don’t say a word My heart softly tweets to a mockingbird If that mockingbird don’t sing Can I write you a love song created only for your being As minds are sightseeing Hearts fleeing Timpani drums guaranteeing Entwined of our divine wellbeing Emotions freeing Crooning of bodies heard as the day is long Can I write you a love song
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53
I will be your mighty man if you will be my fragile flower For the strength of you within my hand is far greater than any mountain Your softest word whispered in my ear will raise the best of aspirations While your kiss upon my cheek uplifts Our fields of forever So We will lay beside Our souls as Our spirits run free together We will seek and search to truly find Our place together as lovers I then will lift my eyes to mirror yours and surely glimpse the grace of Heaven -R. (14) -D -4MAR
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Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
-The Grace of Heaven
Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence Behold the Forms of nature. They discern Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities Which mortals lack or indirectly learn. Transparent in primordial truth, unvarying, Pure Earthness and right Stonehood from their clear, High eminence are seen; unveiled, the seminal Huge Principles appear. The Tree-ness of the tree they know-the meaning of Arboreal life, how from earth's salty lap The solar beam uplifts it; all the holiness Enacted by leaves' fall and rising sap; But never an angel knows the knife-edged severance Of sun from shadow where the trees begin, The blessed cool at every pore caressing us -An angel has no skin. They see the Form of Air; but mortals breathing it Drink the whole summer down into the breast. The lavish pinks, the field new-mown, the ravishing Sea-smells, the wood-fire smoke that whispers Rest. The tremor on the rippled pool of memory That from each smell in widening circles goes, The pleasure and the pang --can angels measure it? An angel has no nose. The nourishing of life, and how it flourishes On death, and why, they utterly know; but not The hill-born, earthy spring, the dark cold bilberries. The ripe peach from the southern wall still hot Full-bellied tankards foamy-topped, the delicate Half-lyric lamb, a new loaf's billowy curves, Nor porridge, nor the tingling taste of oranges. —An angel has no nerves. Far richer they! I know the senses' witchery Guards us like air, from heavens too big to see; Imminent death to man that barb'd sublimity And dazzling edge of beauty unsheathed would be. Yet here, within this tiny, charmed interior, This parlour of the brain, their Maker shares With living men some secrets in a privacy Forever ours, not theirs.
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On Being Human
Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence Behold the Forms of nature. They discern Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities Which mortals lack or indirectly learn. Transparent in primordial truth, unvarying, Pure Earthness and right Stonehood from their clear, High eminence are seen; unveiled, the seminal Huge Principles appear. The Tree-ness of the tree they know-the meaning of Arboreal life, how from earth's salty lap The solar beam uplifts it; all the holiness Enacted by leaves' fall and rising sap; But never an angel knows the knife-edged severance Of sun from shadow where the trees begin, The blessed cool at every pore caressing us -An angel has no skin. They see the Form of Air; but mortals breathing it Drink the whole summer down into the breast. The lavish pinks, the field new-mown, the ravishing Sea-smells, the wood-fire smoke that whispers Rest. The tremor on the rippled pool of memory That from each smell in widening circles goes, The pleasure and the pang --can angels measure it? An angel has no nose. The nourishing of life, and how it flourishes On death, and why, they utterly know; but not The hill-born, earthy spring, the dark cold bilberries. The ripe peach from the southern wall still hot Full-bellied tankards foamy-topped, the delicate Half-lyric lamb, a new loaf's billowy curves, Nor porridge, nor the tingling taste of oranges. —An angel has no nerves. Far richer they! I know the senses' witchery Guards us like air, from heavens too big to see; Imminent death to man that barb'd sublimity And dazzling edge of beauty unsheathed would be. Yet here, within this tiny, charmed interior, This parlour of the brain, their Maker shares With living men some secrets in a privacy Forever ours, not theirs.
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40
I feel a simple joy As I look upon the hills The kind that uplifts my heart Without the skiing thrills. The trees look their best All dressed in multi-coloured hues And stretch for miles around Against skies of brightest blues. And as I watch the sun, Rise from the other side; I see life stirring out, From where at night it hides. The sky gets filled with colour: To a warm tangerine-orange glow; And my mind is filled with awe, At this wondrously delightful show. Some birds have started Singing their happy whistling tunes; And will continue with their songs, Till its way past noon. There are some that have started Before the day broke into dawn, And unite with the melodies Of those who start later in the morn. And these very merry sounds So full of happy cheer Makes the state of Kashmir, Our very prized frontier. The sounds are echoed far and wide On this mountainous terrain Over hills and through valleys They reach below to the plains. At night it gets all quiet, Except for the babbling brook And the occasional hoot of the owl That startles me from my book.
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Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 12:18 AM UTC
Kashmir
They cling to the earth like lichens in deep meditation Lophophora williamsii. Fallen warriors sprinkled throughout the blackbrush and mesquite there in the valley of the Rio Grande. They whisper to you as you roam that arid slab of ground and spin like Van Gogh in the night sky while you sleep. They call you this way and that lead you in directions you did not intend. In the dry washes beware rattlesnakes wait in every thin patch of shade and at night lightning switches the lights on and off and on again. Once the spirit of this unassuming succulent enters into you accepts you uplifts you the sky opens and reveals the pulsing heart of God's creation speaking softly in tongues heard only at the beginning. It is glory then.
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Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
Ode to a Cactus
Who else in this inhumane edifice can dance while the suspecting eyes stare at his moistened armpit? Pathetically unknowing music uplifts not just the soul but the intellect. Who else got the fire in imparting? or … did theirs even start a single spark since then? Who else brings out the best in these hopefuls? It’s all the worse and worst that they see. And you think San Pedro would be pleased when you gloat you made all the priests, doctors, and engineers? Woe to you who humiliate the chair by your indolent butts while uttering kindergartenous blabbers you claim to be education! Then you get all you want while tabula rasa remains tabula rasa. And you You seated on the higher chairs! Why don’t you trample down awhile and put your cataracting sight to use before it even brings you to the death of light. Has anyone of you even heard what your god told to Pontius Pilate? Ha! The you-have-no-power-over-me’s have always been impervious to you bigots! And you say to your kin let me handle it. When it is delayed and their impatience grows you see they’ll leave. Did you ever fret about deadlines of bills, of matriculas, of debts? What do you feed to your clan? Feeds? Get Ripley’s here! Oh how divine to utter all the Fs! ©Glenn L. Sentes February 20, 2013
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Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 5:41 AM UTC
The Gospel According to Mentor
Happiness Happiness uplifts you Happiness fills your heart, your mind, and your soul Happiness gives you the strength you need Happiness is a great feeling that Enters your mind Happiness takes the sorrow away Happiness fills you life with joy Happiness makes you feel happy, excited, And thrilled Happiness warms your heart It gives you a sense of relief Happiness welcomes you Happiness can be seen by a smile And in your eyes Twinkling with shine Happiness is a very beautiful feeling Which allows you to enjoy Every day to the fullest
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Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 8:47 AM UTC
That Feeling Of Happiness
invisible force, not to reckon with subtle with power sway, circulation flow and erosion to feel your touch hear your passing never truly see you but in the trees' dance they are alive and strong yet never move on their own you give them a life that they can never have you give them the song the rhythm and beat to dance to like a sparkling of their fingers and the twirl of their hair you give our world depth, shape the sand and earth in ways we can never achieve forge mountains and break what we so pain strikingly ***** you are the might who moves oceans the strength who uplifts houses the delicate touch of making a dandelion sneeze the exquisite sweetness of swilling leaves we try to harness you imitate you adore you fear you though we can never stop you
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Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
Galeful Zephyr
Night is over the park, and a few brave stars Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold, The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold. We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place, And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head; How still you are— your gaze is on my face— We watch the swans and never a word is said.
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Swans
Bursted tyre, alone, She tasted 'highway despair', Lift offer, uplifts!
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Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 4:19 PM UTC
On the road
Tinkerbell, You should claim your love, Your dust uplifts the imaginative, Fancying the image your Pixie holds. A tiny ring held your winged image, I received the token from a dwarf, Whom greedily devoured its bearer. I washed clean its sweet carnage, With your bare left hand in mind, But when I placed the jest upon it, The wedded finger held its ground, An invisible band lay midst its place. The pink blood on your cheeks spoke, An enchantment had been yet laid, The incantations of mine too late, Replied the rosy blood on my cheeks. We smiled in the twilight hence, Reflecting the muted gore, Shying from its shove. You should claim your love, Tinkerbell.
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Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Tinkerbell
The young Endymion sleeps Endymion’s sleep; The shepherd-boy whose tale was left half told! The solemn grove uplifts its shield of gold To the red rising moon, and loud and deep The nightingale is singing from the steep; It is midsummer, but the air is cold; Can it be death? Alas, beside the fold A shepherd’s pipe lies shattered near his sheep. Lo! in the moonlight gleams a marble white, On which I read: “Here lieth one whose name Was writ in water.” And was this the meed Of his sweet singing? Rather let me write: “The smoking flax before it burst to flame Was quenched by death, and broken the bruised reed.”
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Keats
By: Cedric McClester Be careful what you say Your words can convey A message that uplifts Just like birthday gifts Or by their mere sound Bring someone down Cos words can be profound Whether adjective or noun Think before you speak And be kind to the meek Words can soothe away The worries of the day Or words can cause pain And bring nothing but disdain They can linger and remain Implanted in your brain Words can be like tools For geniuses or fools But once they're cast about They remove any doubt About whoever spoke them And it's hard to revoke them So try not to provoke them Better that you yoke them Words better left unsaid Should remain in your head Once they're in the atmosphere They can't simply disappear Consider this when you speak Or an errant word might leak Even when it's tongue and cheek That excuse is very weak (c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
WORDS (Be Careful What You Say)
The stream goes up, the tears come down. The fears they clump, they shake and drown. But thrill uplifts, it wakes and sticks. For if time could, stay, still, today. One moment we sway, another we slay. The road is made, with pain it shall fade. We choose, we lose, we cruise, we abuse. The feelings of truth could they lie to you? O, sweet friend, just keep your hue. Blue, the colour of you. Blue, the time to undo. Blue, the life that you move.
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
Colour
Tongue at your thighs, staring deep in your eyes. Tasting peach oceans- warm, full of lies. Whispering sweetness, legs starting to shift- feeling the rhythm, tension uplifts. Kiss on your neck, sweet- no reason to hurry, stroking you slowly, lost in your body's flurry. A breath on the ear, hands on your waist, feeling your moans like a song made of grace. Your arch, your song- why can’t we belong?
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Mar 26, 2025
Mar 26, 2025 at 5:29 PM UTC
vibes
Wired within us by nature or nurture we feel this thing The one that stops the clock, mind and rewrites decision codes The strong get weak at it and sometimes it uplifts the weak Even when you say no, build defense walls, and inject yourself with a universal immunity drug, it disregards all. Is it unstoppable or we're just yet to find the solution. The antidote to it has been more of a placebo Do we even need a solution at all for something that all who don't have want to have? Maybe yes, cos the ones who land in the wrong jails of it cry out for freedom Nobody seems to have the help When it knocks and you ignore, it keeps knocking with persistence unimaginable It gets frustrating and exciting sometimes to know it is love knocking again
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:26 AM UTC
LOVE AGAIN?
She brushed out landscapes with her words as deftly as any impressionist master and speed-trekked us from where we sat to scenes of transcendent beauty. Each day I awaited her verbal canvases with self-indulgent anticipation. But one day all was all different. What was this horrific account of of unspeakable Afghan tragedy - A wandering woman whose final defeat, after all she loved had been butchered, was hope beyond all recovery dragging her feet through the dust? I picked up my heart from out of the soil to ask her, "were you there?" She was  - with a physician's bag for Cindy is a doctor who eschews a suburban clinic to defy all danger and be where life would fail without her healing craft and care. Dodging bullets, sputum and mortal threats, Cindy fights life's most essential battles and so uplifts the standard of our species. The next day Cindy painted for us a verdant mountain scene whose whispering streams and fragrance exceeded all I'd every witnessed. I wonder where she is. September, 2013
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Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
Cindy's Poems
I survive off Energy, not negative vibes, but Positive watts it sustains my life force, and uplifts me to the highest of heights high above the ceiling, venturing pass the stratosphere, until i find myself conversing with celestial beings, the feeling of feeling, leaves me open to all manners of interpretation , We are who We are, when you become vulnerable, Emotions run ramped explosive like The Birth of A Dwarf Star , anything outside the realm of good intentions , I back track , and revert to that of a hermit turtle incased in my shell, NO ONE ALLOWED ! In the sanctum not until i can tell the outsider means me no harm They just want   my charismatic company & electric charm
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May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
Life Battery
*Judgments everywhere Criticisms you must bear The wicked chuck you with hatred Keep in mind, you are sacred. Dejection and rejections Standards set in magazines and televisions From painful yet glorious birth Why measure one’s worth? Allow it not to scar your mind Nor the voices blind Wear the strength in your skin Free the radiance within. For He lavished you with gifts His love uplifts Behind the scene or on stage You are beautifully weaved in His image. -a.g.*
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Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC
96. You Are Beautiful
An autoimmune of a nation, why are you letting your wrath stemmed from crisis burst open like lysosomes? Why do you digest yourself and one of your own? Don't you take pride when the one who has the same nation weaved on his skin uplifts the wavering flag of your land? Why would you mute and suppress them rather than water them, like the beautiful nature that blooms from your own ground? Why would you steal and harm your brothers and sisters, letting your mentality succumb to toxic-narrow confinements?
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Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 3:02 AM UTC
Autoimmune of a Nation
bewildered that this text this forgotten scribe uplifts the feelings i try so hard to bury inside this scribbled stanza relieves pressure and pain slowly allowing me to stop reliving the shame words once read in black and white submerged in emotions high, light, and bright letting your painted face in my memory vault fade ebbing in the distance while these words continue to invade funny is that our feelings exist so playful and irrational yet followed zealously feels greater than feels, professional s.q.
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
unintended