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"whispy" poems
I saw a cloud One lonely whispy cloud In the very blue sky The edge was on fire...it was blushed Peach I looked again... I saw a cloud On fire...for just a moment The sun had kissed the cloud Goodbye for the day On the right edge of it lips On the edge of its smile The clouds smile Then I looked away And pretended not to notice
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Dec 27, 2023
Dec 27, 2023 at 9:07 AM UTC
Blushed
I have gone cold turkey On many a vice and addictions, Wasn't nearly there, When it came to you, You -a newly seeded dandelion, In my beautiful garden, Pulled you out cleanly, From root to tip, Far away from flowering, You didn't even look pretty, Once a part of a  beauty, Swayed fuzzy and whispy, Got kicked and treaded over, Scattered fragments, Waiting to seed again, Pretty on the outside, Trouble for the gardener, Didn't even use my rage, Just calmly uprooted you, So you wouldn't flower, Won't scatter anymore, Spread like a **** again, But who knows, Weeds are resilient, Maybe you'll flower, In someone else's garden, Blossom and bloom, Just to be kicked again, Always loved a dandelion, Pretty in the hands, Prettier when scattered, So I won't hold you again.
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Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 12:59 PM UTC
Untitled
Her whispy straw-like hair Strange green eyes that never rest A smile no artist could ever paint A frown to suicide a saint Her voice fresh water that she never drinks Her measured distance covers what she thinks Laughter so human it inspires God And sends Him back to work Whilst she is unemployed She's a taker; She's a mover; she's a doer And what she gives makes charity cry Her pride is rarely spoken loud She's not comfortable in a crowd But she drinks in others As they drink in her; She is blind where they don't care. Her whispy straw-like hair transcends despair Like only a Russian knows how; Balanced compassion with a violent passion But what light in those still hoping eyes
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
An Ode to A Hamster
I am not welcome But to those Who want to hide Who want to be held In my frigid Whispy arms Lost in the depths Of a soft Floating cloud The thick Moist cloak That veils the earth The eerie Beautiful covering Wavering and hovering I am the mist
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Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 12:23 AM UTC
Mist
We stopped in the whispy city, the hippy boy and me. We thought of the good times and bad, and encouraged our minds to be free. We came upon a drifter a ***** old man and his wife. We never felt the distance, though imagined their life without strife. But where can we be today alone in our world side by side. We thought about loving good times so great and yet we cried. Reenter the crispy- like city, snow covered, serene & oblique. We wandered around with no purpose, an oasis that just sprung a leak. And who never fought the war, the angular, meaningless scourge. We found all the cities amuck, and all we could sing was good luck. So who never sang the song, that glorious, soulful olio. Just me and that young hippy boy, while nobody else really cared.
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Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC
The Hippy Boy
Psychedelic raindrops Dripping lights So bright, so bright Like mushroom painted rainbows Glowing As angels in the night While ravers eat their kandi I journey Aimlessly through the sky Making friends with whispy planets Soaring on my hocuspocus carpets Don't make me come down I wanna stay high, melting face forever Drinking passion from a flask Enjoying my nonsensical endeavor
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Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 1:53 PM UTC
Trippin'
tiny blue houses line the beige, red, and green grass that lines the runway the city from above is a rainbow mosaic of bustling focus, in markets, on scooters, in neatly trimmed parks now it fades to white, a blending for from ground to sky meeting, joining, the whispy clouds that lay, for now above Hồ Chí Minh city
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
Leaving Hồ Chí Minh City
**A Unique Sight To See Are Summer Birds Sitting In Winter Trees, Chilled Winds Whistle--Creating High Voltages Of Dopamine Which Wriggle Free In My Cells, Evening Dwellers Soon Awake Forcing Back The Day--Yet I Stay To Gaze At The Black Canvas Of The Sky, How Terribly I Wish To Paint The Stars Ice White Paint Sits On My Palette; I Am Ready, Just As I Dip My Brush Dawn Returns Kinder Blazes On The Horizon--Yet I Create Lonely Stars Sit--Three To Be Exact--Are My Creation--And They Greet The Day Dwellers, Nodding Hello As They Slip Back Into The Blue Over The Whispy Clouds They Dance, Politely They Smile And Wave Goodbye And Quietly They Disappeared, Rain Rolled Down My Cheeks But I Am Happy, Silently I Smiled As I Trodded Back To The Trees The Summer Birds Still Singing, Uniting With The Bone Chilling Air Valiant They Weather The Winter On The Winding River--Their Melody Tingling Under My Xiphoid Process, Yielding To Express My Gratitude I Watch As They Zig-Zag Through The Winter Trees**
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Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 8:32 AM UTC
Summer Birds-Winter Trees (Alphabet Poem)
Unearthly weightlessness, Bunched abandon, Carelessly clustered, As if ‘He’ planned them To cause star-struck wonder; Defying ‘DIY’ laws Cautiously cradling, The nature of wars- The whispy familiars Of sunset clouds Feed vitamin horizons To unaware crowds.
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Jul 11, 2011
Jul 11, 2011 at 2:13 PM UTC
Cloud Gazer
I love when colored salmon spawn And leap with ease over towns on high With rippling waves and glistening sheen How they bound between these rocky outcrop clouds And spread their whispy tendril fins Across the cascading pinkish sky I love the night just before it breathes Quiet as waivering gills unseen When the salmon color seeps into the sky
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Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 7:55 PM UTC
Salmon In The Sky
The color of a slightly tipsy tongue peeling my resolve from my own is that of a winter morning -- clear and concise in its purpose, Sending signals to my brain, which, in response, Transmits slight shivers down my spinal cord, Raising the fine hairs Along my smooth skin --the same relaxed, whispy, ***** that covers tense, terse, and trembling muscles. The sound of a shirt being pushed Out of the way; The sound of pants already crumpled, Settled, On the carpet my mother cleans. That sound that represents Everything I've ever wanted from nothing But can not accurately depict Anything I've wanted from one thing in particular. Because you are special and You make me want And You make my body tense and My words short and My lips loose. Loose so as to open and receive your secrets given In False Drunkeness --to allow your breath to absolutely fill My lungs As you drag me down beneath the surface And into the dark. We are not blind. Our nerves spark in the darkness, The area devoid of any light source save for those that arise from the friction of skin against skin and mind against mind, Ideas crashing and banging together As they Escape From our mouths During our futile resistance to anything logical Or rational, Our selves piloted by the thought of Unfathomable numbers and equations That led to this moment When our bodies feel everything And our minds feel Nothing. We are naked before the eye of the God neither of us believe in.
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Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
B1
I just want them too truly To know they are as and more Dearly too when we are all as my 3 here re see Eve'd as I already knew U had come too re a shore the lonely sailor With One One Another Ahoy!!! ~The Promise Be Shore Surely!!!~~ ~Love of my life baby girl V~~Star'Sis!! Come Darling Coming!!! Still and More Shall be!! Mote IT B ! . . Air All Was As Crisp Still Clear Moon o'V very bright fully too Towards the Dead of Line's 'tween be of a day by Tip Tipper of Nite locally See Sea's longitudinally onward thee tracking surely so.. x \/ x \/ x \/ . . X Then the waters did part as quick As Glass Shattered into that house Midwife Be Thy Holy Need Pop Quickly Spotting Pop On Top One Pop on Top too lil' me seeing see E Y E Then just as sudden as the quick The winds did there kick kick blew As Blackly Be But Stars Dimmer Too For This Moon Of Wooing Thee BE I N Too All Mighty's So Whispy of Whispering's Windy's Cloud's Streak Speak's Th'Eye's Sky's Here's Holy's Hearing's Love Is . . O N L Y By Moon So Overly Fleet Flew Fastly Flying All Heavenly Hands Took Competent Handling of All Decks Twas not this no not the one for a mutiny All the Blood Bearing Beings before had overly So much of scutiny too Wards of The Captain Too They felt as his captive's Too A Madness Of Missions *more: Coming ha ha Guess Guess!! Bless Bless!
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Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC
Ur trending babe!!!
The bonsai grew all wrong Its branches outweigh the base And the wood is whispy and pale Without the spring a sapling entails It's big, much too big, too long A band stretched past its place Becomes a twig in impatient hands Pressured, and snapped, and palmed Bonsai's mature slowly With snow and vibrant leaves To rush things is more than lowly You've sold their soul you thieves
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Sep 3, 2021
Sep 3, 2021 at 1:18 AM UTC
To Tend to a Bonsai
Quick Ways of describing the moon with a poetic aptitude of felicity. The silver glow struck my eyes, flowing through my body, making me stand in awe underneath itself. The natural lighthouse guided my way through the haze, releasing my inner imagination. The white hue echoed through the clouds, lighting up the stagnant air. The whispy clouds covered the moon in a thin veil, concentrating their efforts on dismissing it's effort to shine. Quick ways of describing the sun The fiery ball of death awakened our planet with life, turning fire and flames into rivers and green grass. The light felt warm against my skin, as I laid there, feeling the warm sun, trying to fathom the vast distances that lied between it and us. The destroyer of worlds, the hellfire from above, the golden globe of hope and all things that are good, the ambiguous sphere of giving... The Sun The Sky would not be blue, nor the grass green, nor would the cacophony of cold harsh winds batter against your house, as you sat reverent of the warm sphere, watching it's pubescent sunrise and it's aging sunset, as you behold, the greatness of the sun. Quick Ways of describing the Universe The bright stars shined through the sky, escalating man's need to know, to explore, pushing him to release his inner genius and become great. The firmament sits there, a endless black chalkboard, smeared with nebulae and brushed with black holes, and glittered with stars. The Earth sat there alone, waiting for consolation, waiting for a spark, and then she opened her eyes, and all the Universe was bestowed upon her, burning beauty into her brain and soul.
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Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 1:17 PM UTC
Poetic Starters for Celestial Objects
Quick Ways of describing the moon with a poetic aptitude of felicity. The silver glow struck my eyes, flowing through my body, making me stand in awe underneath itself. The natural lighthouse guided my way through the haze, releasing my inner imagination. The white hue echoed through the clouds, lighting up the stagnant air. The whispy clouds covered the moon in a thin veil, concentrating their efforts on dismissing it's effort to shine. Quick ways of describing the sun The fiery ball of death awakened our planet with life, turning fire and flames into rivers and green grass. The light felt warm against my skin, as I laid there, feeling the warm sun, trying to fathom the vast distances that lied between it and us. The destroyer of worlds, the hellfire from above, the golden globe of hope and all things that are good, the ambiguous sphere of giving... The Sun The Sky would not be blue, nor the grass green, nor would the cacophony of cold harsh winds batter against your house, as you sat reverent of the warm sphere, watching it's pubescent sunrise and it's aging sunset, as you behold, the greatness of the sun. Quick Ways of describing the Universe The bright stars shined through the sky, escalating man's need to know, to explore, pushing him to release his inner genius and become great. The firmament sits there, a endless black chalkboard, smeared with nebulae and brushed with black holes, and glittered with stars. The Earth sat there alone, waiting for consolation, waiting for a spark, and then she opened her eyes, and all the Universe was bestowed upon her, burning beauty into her brain and soul.
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14
The beauty of youth will forever belong at your side, and therefore it will stay Even after the hairs upon each of our heads begin to glow like a white halo ray After it has turned from the fairest of golds to whispy alabaster whites and greys Never shall youthful beauty whisper farewell to us on any occuring days Even after long are gone the glorious days in the past and time we have spent Now filled with the sad longing, with hurting glances, in which is called resentement; These are from the multitude of wrinkles; of which to gain we never meant But still; the beauty of youth weeds out those feelings, helping us to repent The thinning upon our heads? Remind us of the days we were conspicuously snooty Because those were the fruitful times in which we were often called a "natural beauty" Noses in the air because we thought being beautiful was our righteous duty Only now the surface of our faces have been wrinkled and bleached like an old dried abalone The bounties of our short timed youth, have long been washed away with the waves of time But that allows us to remember; and rejoice at every steep mountainous climb Through smiles and laughs; and the misshaps in which we were thoroughly covered in grime The beauty of youth resonates through every memory even when it tries to be sublime The richest of light is not from youthful beauty; but forever it will always be lit and cast The light from the joyful sound of chirping birds; and the tirelessness of laughs, Of the mindless days we spend vainly dreaming, stepping off our "to be discovered" paths With the hopes of regaining our once beauty filled and profitable youthful pasts (Those are the very brightest, of every youthful light)
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Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
Withstanding the Time of Alabaster Whites and Greys
The beauty of youth will forever belong at your side, and therefore it will stay Even after the hairs upon each of our heads begin to glow like a white halo ray After it has turned from the fairest of golds to whispy alabaster whites and greys Never shall youthful beauty whisper farewell to us on any occuring days Even after long are gone the glorious days in the past and time we have spent Now filled with the sad longing, with hurting glances, in which is called resentement; These are from the multitude of wrinkles; of which to gain we never meant But still; the beauty of youth weeds out those feelings, helping us to repent The thinning upon our heads? Remind us of the days we were conspicuously snooty Because those were the fruitful times in which we were often called a "natural beauty" Noses in the air because we thought being beautiful was our righteous duty Only now the surface of our faces have been wrinkled and bleached like an old dried abalone The bounties of our short timed youth, have long been washed away with the waves of time But that allows us to remember; and rejoice at every steep mountainous climb Through smiles and laughs; and the misshaps in which we were thoroughly covered in grime The beauty of youth resonates through every memory even when it tries to be sublime The richest of light is not from youthful beauty; but forever it will always be lit and cast The light from the joyful sound of chirping birds; and the tirelessness of laughs, Of the mindless days we spend vainly dreaming, stepping off our "to be discovered" paths With the hopes of regaining our once beauty filled and profitable youthful pasts (Those are the very brightest, of every youthful light)
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21
Ascending among the brilliant stars, Varied blue, white, yellow, red; Distinct and somewhat poignant, Draped beneath the sky overhead. Orion unsheaths his weapon, Ursa major does not roar, These bears and men who cannot see, Lend faces to the whispy air as they soar. Dark clouds, dim lit and hazy, Among the moon's soft shine, Each image is reflected, In the city's humble skyline. Descending alongside comets, Hot, burning, coarse rocks, Break free from godly confines, And dance among men, stars, and clocks.
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Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
Night Flight
Exultant in hiatus hovering Indulgent in this paused rewind, To Jubilantly rob the reaper Bleeding him of stolen time. Illicit whispers silenced now A brooding hue invades the room, Whispy red, magenta forces Hold at bay gloom's moody doom. Translucence in the shadow shimmers Time and space suspend as one, Whilst others wither on the vine Eternity's embraced by some. This gentle feeling, floating there The thrill of flying free, From complications vagaries, From life's complexity. The crystal cadence starts to wither Silky walls do billow in, Hurled abuse invades the instant Carping walls of harping din. Retreating to the everyday And wrinkled skin again, The golden days of pause have fled As time resumes her reign. Marshalg @theCoalface Mangere Bridge 29 October 2009 www.worthyofpublishing.com
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Oct 29, 2009
Oct 29, 2009 at 10:26 PM UTC
Hiatus
Aging The lazy orange hammock ******* Drink down my thought into your skin, of lazy orange hammock swinging. lie down easy and look at the sky , the sun burning away the clouds which turn whispy and start thinning. orange hammocks between great fragrant green pine trees as the autumn winds come in. lazy orange hammock swinging as my mind centres on time travelling, all we are doing is lazy orange hammock swinging as the autumn winds come in. all we are doing is lazy orange hammock swinging as the autumn winds come in.
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May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 6:58 AM UTC
Aging
Dawn Returns To A Land Of Darkness, Shadows Long, Lights Blinking Quietly, The Clicking Of Feet On Concrete, Are Covered By The Roar Of A Giant, Green Leaves With Flecks Of Yellow, Surround A Sun Bleached Road, Last Night's Rain, Left Marks On Chilled Pavement, Sunlight Hits Strait On, Allowing You To See Your Reflection, Then It Slowly Slips Off Your Face, Leaving You In Darkness, A Melody Buzzes In Your Ear, But You Are To Disoriented, To Listen To The Words, A Field Glistens With Waterdroplets, Dancing In The Suns Returnimg Light, As A Yellow Monster, Prowls Along The Road, Clouds Whispy And Smooth, Covered By A Bright Blue Sky, Look Over You Below, You Pass The Road Of Memories, The Road Of Old New Beginnings, And You Keep Going, With Out Even Turning Your Head, And As The Sun Slips Behind The, Dark Whispy Clouds, You Are Left In The Darkness, Once Again
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Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 8:32 AM UTC
Prowling The Paths With A Monster
its bubbly- it bubbles- it builds the insurmountable urge to quit- it all soft- whispy- sweet- a toxic treat it is in the gaps my health falls i wish I could up and combust so much to do- so little fuel its bubbly- it bubbles- it builds the insurmountable urge to quit- it all
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May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 8:47 AM UTC
stagnant
and the whispy clouds of this mind fall up again i see you clearly
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Jan 16, 2023
Jan 16, 2023 at 10:03 PM UTC
haiku 22/12/13c
Soledad wears her skin in caramel hues. Heavy with a momentary mouth, Her slow croon etches Marlboro into the humid evening. A passion turned to pleading, Shaped in the image of clouds and thunder. Her words come whispy, Syncopated and wading in waves of forgetfulness Where sustenance withers, Braided into the silence and given quietly, Softly to the sky. High tenor, Raspy and warm repeats Into an stemmed crystal glass; La inminente luna. La inminente luna Canta para su Acsension a la azul.
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May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 12:54 AM UTC
Blues
We met many many years back When the realisation hit that I may need you I met you at home and the street but as a vision When my mum constantly reminded me to get you home I rebelled and didn’t want to I met you in my tears When someone wanted you More than me, I met you in disdain When I saw many who had you But strutted around in false pride. And I didn’t want you. And here you are, Many moons later, Wherein I rediscovered you. It was never you, it was the picture I painted. I am getting closer to you now Fresh canvas, Wispy and comforting, Uplifting like a kite 🪁 in the sky, You’re blooming, You smell fresh as a 🌹. You’re “getting lighter”, And to me now it is not my weight in body, But the heaviness in my heart and mind, That I am getting lighter with. And as I do, I find you so comforting, You were always my friend, I didn’t see you As people and my heaviness painted you as an enemy, You’re my angel And I know you better, Getting closer to you, Whispy, floating and free. I like you lightness, You’re me now. You so want to come closer to me, Constantly trying to invade my mind, Tentacle my thoughts and dreams. But hey I get you, I am going to set you free. Because now you’re inside of me And my journey in the here and now is to be. You’re sweet and I get you, But sweetness is one flavour, And I like it spicy and tangy as well, A tad bitter, some more there, So I’ll just set you free. Now, I am free, Whispy and floating, Pink and sparkly, Becoming me...
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Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC
Getting Lighter
We met many many years back When the realisation hit that I may need you I met you at home and the street but as a vision When my mum constantly reminded me to get you home I rebelled and didn’t want to I met you in my tears When someone wanted you More than me, I met you in disdain When I saw many who had you But strutted around in false pride. And I didn’t want you. And here you are, Many moons later, Wherein I rediscovered you. It was never you, it was the picture I painted. I am getting closer to you now Fresh canvas, Wispy and comforting, Uplifting like a kite 🪁 in the sky, You’re blooming, You smell fresh as a 🌹. You’re “getting lighter”, And to me now it is not my weight in body, But the heaviness in my heart and mind, That I am getting lighter with. And as I do, I find you so comforting, You were always my friend, I didn’t see you As people and my heaviness painted you as an enemy, You’re my angel And I know you better, Getting closer to you, Whispy, floating and free. I like you lightness, You’re me now. You so want to come closer to me, Constantly trying to invade my mind, Tentacle my thoughts and dreams. But hey I get you, I am going to set you free. Because now you’re inside of me And my journey in the here and now is to be. You’re sweet and I get you, But sweetness is one flavour, And I like it spicy and tangy as well, A tad bitter, some more there, So I’ll just set you free. Now, I am free, Whispy and floating, Pink and sparkly, Becoming me...
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52
There's sand in my car on the seat, the floor, underneath the brake I brush and brush but it just jumps up and falls back down exactly where it is, as sand always did as the sand from the Monterey Bay does when I grew up and now and I try to jog on the beach but my muscles are so weak now and I remember my young body jogging and getting tight again within days but I am home, and that is what I feel more than anything and the decades seem to be diaphanous, like clouds or whispy spray, not so heavy and real and after crunches in the sand I am on the couch writing in a notebook and I touch my hair and sand falls out making tiny little sand noises as each particle hits the paper and I remember being in high school when this happened all the time, and sand will fall, and cling, and put itself on you in your car, in your hair and into your life until you can't live without it, must be near it And my body will fade, and worse still my mind but the sand will stay forever, tiny and infinitely monumental
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Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
Sand in My Car