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"viridity" poems
something heretical in our sera a peeking thing, half mischievous and i, trying to see if you are my mirror if you recognize the streak in me as your own something familiar smelling like the sweat beneath your arms the glossy glint off your scleras the trail of forest on your body heretical something wild in the the skin that slips beneath my hands like a many-worn silk of some old god like a selkie would feel about the centuries old earth and the neverchanging of days, darkbrightdarkbrightdark something freeing about the sting of winter air in my nostrils something ripped away from my long exiles in the city something replenished in the true empty fullness of a silent tundra a dirt-covered snowbank a grey iceflow on the water something dissident and infidel about your soul and mine together something potent in our marrow something wild and freeing and dying
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
dissident, to viridity
unblemished smiles wither swiftly crisp smile creases line the cheeks and adorn the eyes as youth fades into age and age fades into oblivion then the rest is dust and ashes. breath is ephemeral transcendent, even. viridity is fleeting foliage browns even as we speak and soon folds into a worn leather bag along with baubles from days of yore. but there is a moral to the story that these trinkets tell they remind those remaining of what has passed and what is sure to come again reminding the new to memorialize the old and savor each moments as it comes.
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Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 1:24 PM UTC
ephemeral
Behold, an ethereal incarnate. Soulful, astute, and delicate. Her sight instills inspiration, Her touch strokes with passion. Callow, pure, and wholly innocent, Inwards, she sprung, fully vehement. With a handful of zealous volition, And hopes to earn love and ambition. Dazed by a benevolent trance, She danced with pristine stance. But, oh, so little did she know, Tainted love pierced like an arrow. Lo, gone were the days of viridity. Past was learnt, hence gained clarity. No brand of man, no spoil of deceit, Can cull her stead like maize and meat. She who dons an exuberant shield, Whose mighty foes will surely yield. Brandished crown of newfound glory, Behold, a Queen—hear her story.
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Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
Behold, A Queen.
Pomegranate seeds inhaled deeply into brainy matter sprouting intrepid visions. Apathy... Viridity... Perfidity... Profundity... Possibilities surround my awaiting gaze. Weaving, dancing, enhancing; pen falls from astonished grasp. Inspiration so easily gained assures revelation's similar loss. Dammed drug cursed memory, it fades with return to reality. © S.Loeding All Rights Reserved
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Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
~ Inspiration ~
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A demeanour equable to viridity, The nascence of a lamb. The supposed handsel from the welkin! Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A swaying of a quixotic mind, The dance from the societal crwth; The derogation of the lamb via gibes. Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A continual lampoon – The spawn of a chapfallen eagle. The brainchild of a timorous creature. Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A diagnosis of a bird in incommunicado with flight; A late palpation, albeit. The societal routine…
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Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 1:39 PM UTC
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens...
A deep, verdant green shy stems and ivy cloaked in the penumbra of half-lidded eyes Leaving even the daisies Trembling in the shame of their own viridity Aching for the sun's touch I trace my own hand in the quiet night To feel that again
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Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 12:01 AM UTC
solace