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"upturns" poems
I dwelt alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride— Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride. Ah, less—less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes of the radiant girl! And never a flake That the vapor can make With the moon-tints of purple and pearl, Can vie with the modest Eulalie’s most unregarded curl— Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie’s most humble and careless curl. Now Doubt—now Pain Come never again, For her soul gives me sigh for sigh, And all day long Shines, bright and strong, Astarte within the sky, While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye— While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
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Eulalie
Bare feet scuttle around on marbled floors Painting muddy footprints on the white canvas. Onlookers walk by in disgust, their noses in The air as they click their heels in an effort To avoid the unbecoming scene before them. The feet are callused and shred, imprints of Pebbles forever etched into the raw flesh Of their nakedness. Was it worth it? Yes. It should be. It will be. The gritty pavement is as hot as the Sun, a burning star, a supernova lifetimes Away. Their yellowed teeth are clenched tightly; They are determined to stand despite the furious Pain slowly eating its way into the Soles of their feet. Many scars and scratches from roads they have Traveled are scattered across the bareness; They are proud, for it is their art, That is the measurement Of their life. At last, the final goodbye from the scorching day Kisses their heads in a bittersweet farewell And You see them smiling in the dark, Blue eyes glowing with a brilliance You have Never seen before. They are eager to Run with their bare, misshapen feet And jump with all their strength into the Watery depths below. You look around. They are splashing in the waves, The cool ocean soothing the pains Of the day. The corner of Your lip upturns with A hint of a smile. This is how they live. And this is who they are. Who then are you going to be?
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Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
Barefoot
To whom it may concern The toils and burdens my soul upturns Burns insipid valleys in her earthly world I am the pronouced hate Invigorating the vapid sensation So plastically waiting to commensurate Residing in the bowels of God my stitched fate Defecates the defective path, one day we all must take Smite the plight purging these devilish urges? Or rage the plague until the roots of life are twisted with screeching decay? Either way death always stares one dead in the face And yet it is I who carries the torch to light your funeral dirge
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Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 5:48 PM UTC
The Reaper
your lame body stretched out skinny elephant in a pink dress trapping my legs under your head i couldnt drive i could not swim i could not be anything her heart will circumsize the **** of every man who doesnt fit her preference a rose deep inside no peddles her nose upturns the hopes her hips a barren dance club cosmetic intellect unintelligent strips the pleasure from the moans this other one is different in the right ways but her age disgusts me like i disgust the righteous
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Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
on peddled roses
I couldn’t help but notice the difference between the smile worn before a camera, and how one’s face upturns much more beautifully in that split second of joy, before vanity adjusts the angle.
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Jun 13, 2011
Jun 13, 2011 at 1:10 PM UTC
Before Vanity Adjusts the Angle
He shoots the bird and gives its name To the arrows fletched from its wings. He wears the feathers knotted in his hair. He cuts into a fruit and watches The juices run and bites The flesh and knows its name. His arms, for branches, bear the peach again. He takes downs trees and pulls up meadows, Upturns the hills and shatters constellations into day, And in among the clay and rubble He tastes the fruit and sings the sparrow's name.
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Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
The Sparrow's Name
Just keep blooming little rose, No-matter what upturns your roots, What stones may clutch your stem, Nor what draught and darkness shrouds your growth or twists your path, Just keep blooming. For someday, something will come along That brings colour to your cells Turns warmth to your skin And shines the moonlight on your petals As you have Always deserved
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Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC
Bloom