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"wonderous" poems
Seems like Words are failing Maybe We should use our mouths For other things How about kissing? Right there On that part of my naval As I brush your hair Maybe I'll let out a little sigh As you linger there for a while Look up and smile Pretty eyes got me gazing Words may be failing but There's other ways to speak Your hands gently trailing got my body feeling Weak Self control startin to slip Better watch my mouth As I bite your lip It stings But not the way words do No need for censorship This mouths being used for other things Maybe to let out a laugh,a little grin As you make your move To help me relax and Leave your mark on my skin Raising the heat Got me craving! Tongues may be wagging In the morning But ours are for tasting So what do you say? Mmm don't speak. My hearts racing Legs shaking As you play your mouth piece Sighhhh And I Might just have to pull you in tight Might just have to have you all night But don't worry It's our lil secret, I won't say a thing Words may have failed us But mouths don't need words To do wonderous things ;)
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Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
Mouth Piece
The gentle tone of her teaching, In wonderous melodies, orchestral knowledge from a sweet teacher, Education set by the awareness of harmonizing, delicate instruments, Wisdom and foresight, cast by no other judgement but of a conductor, Whomst hand leads to the ups and downs of the intensity, recognised Ensembling in the beauty of a sinfonietta, sounds flows uninterrupted Let the singing pendulum to your mistress's pleasure fall to the bottom, attached to the chipped illusionists mask of anticipation! To this dance the mascarade does not crack in the shadow of sound, A wise scholar would not sacrifice one topic relevant to learn to the passing time, to her students unfortune that is, cast in pure grief, A wise conductor does the same with musical notes, the story flows, With the moon high in the sky, time stands in her way, questioning her to dance with the devil amongst a distorted, whicked dark, But resillient to the end, tough and with no distraction taking her focus the director of this event finishes the creation of art, an orchestra A craftwoman of tempo and elegance always stands out after all, bringing the musical score to life. ~ Umi
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Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
Maestra
It's a beautiful day and the sun is shining, Every cloud has a silver lining, Being bathed, showered in pure warmth and light, is for every plant nothing less but a wonderous delight, As every river and stream is sparkling brightly, Not even distrurbed by a soft breeze slightly, Shining beyond the scenery of an azure, majestic sky, I want to lose myself in this wandering fragnance, Such would be, a gift of life of mother natures remembrance, The scent of the flowers alines, with the gentle song of the wind, After this day ends all what will be left is... But a memory of an eternal spring dream, filled with great bliss, A season of green, sunny days. ~ Umi
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Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Sunny Days
The desert, A sea of sand, drought and dry air under a scorching, blazing Sun, The wind may feel alike a cut, which burns through your senses, Relentless, the heat takes over by day, yet by night it is cold enough to freeze you if you come unprepared. Such would be a foolish idea, A dessert of thoughts, driving into my brain, leaving ideas uncovered Leaving productivity hidden, under the sand of hatred and self doubt Such places, landscapes, covered by firy silicate or ice are truly lethal, Such state of mind, covered by uncertainty is truly lethal, for ones wonderful creativity, for art of all kind, conveyed or material, if you might wander through such a land without any guide to help out, Worry not, for after every drought comes rain, blissful rain to fertilise the soil of thoughts which will blossom in wonderous ways, to shine, After all, motion without movement cannot be possible so try to move A wise friend once tought me, that if you give it enough time, even a nigh impossibility becomes a certainty, even a desert could be a forest But until then, be patient my dear, even the most deserted place, carries some beauty in it, no ? ~ Umi
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Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
Desert
A dazzling sough, The wind blows through, across the stunning white clouds, to Earth, A dearness of the whistling, carrying a, warm breeze makes it worth Worth but to say nothing less than; praise the new coming day! Rustling the leafs, shaking them, letting them dance, then sway, The wind is a transient traveler, rushing through this worldly life, Gathering clouds together, a delicate drizzle is what they strive for, Distorting, carrying, leading them towards the ground, wettening them in a scenery of a wonderous sight, fertilising the soil more, Howling in a showering yet intimitating sense of the changing scene, Blowing over each drop of pure water on the green coloured grass, Spring is truly a season where dreams can sore, It gives us the idea of something greater, something more, Coming with ups, then downs, it gets carried away by the wind, Until finally, the sunny days of summer are to come, Sit down with me, listen to the sighing of the wind, don't be lonesome By the sound it makes, the gentle song which blows through our ears Can you hear it whispering ? ~ Umi
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Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
Song of the Wind
Eternity can change in a fleeting moment, These are the hopes of a girl, bound to a chair, looking out of the window, seeping sadness with in a barage of frustration locked away, Rejected by the other kids because she was different, she soon has stopped to bond anymore, friendships seemed like a happy illusion, Too scared to go outside and be made fun of, or called out for her oddness which would unfold in special, yet fascinating, blissful ways, Days pass by, which become months, with no range of change to be seen or gazed at, sealing her emotions away to stay sane, one option, Reading to develop a further understanding of humans, as to develop greater, wonderous capabilities of imagination to simulate a world within her little, fragile, yes almost broken mind, in which she can grow strong and happy, alike her flowers she calls her own children, After all, each time she desired to get close to one or another, a cold shoulder has been served, their backs turning at her in spite and hate, But, this girl has lost the reason to mind it, after all, her loneliness is her shelter, her fantasy and her dreams a happy place to return to, Left behind, like a one winged heron. ~ Umi
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Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
Undergraph
The blue Arabian sea, the towering Western Ghats This then is Kerala the most beautiful Indian state Lush green hill stations, lowland paddy fields All are in Kerala between the mountains and the sea Fourty four rivers flow so water here for all Exotic plants in abundance beside the waterfalls Enchanting emerald back waters put here for your delight The days are never long enough to view each wonderous site Kerala is called gods own country, the reasons very clear Wildlife abounds, exotic birds and sika deer Here you will live longer than in any other state Fresh food in abundance and low mortality rate Why don't you come and visit this paradise on earth And take away the memories that you will always cherish
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Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
KERALA
Umi the bumblebee flies sometimes against a tree You might not see but you are great So keep your head high my mate Umi the bumblebee buzzes around full of glee, Don't worry I will not sting I am just being fluffy Though this bee might also be very cuddly And mostly silly Umi the bumblebee likes to see people happy Full of light she flies under the sun, Buzzing a song and having fun From flower to flower, each a delight, Forming a beautiful field, a wonderous sight Please don't sneeze while I pollinate Such would be very great ! Umi the bumblebee buzzes around and hits a tree This is it she can't do more Now she is sleepy and goes to bed Till the red of the dawn awakens her and she once again lifts up her head! ~ Umi
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Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
Umi the Bumblebee
are we so unloved........in this the very day that holds together all of creation? wonderous sight!...eachother! freely coming unto what we know to call "the sacred door" weeping and moaning in sheer lonliness hating our abusing friends who we then so gladly abuse thankful for "justification" we stomp our own poor face by face we'd re-lynch negros if we could get the rag heads YES WE CAN...HURRAY! while the deadly oil spill SIMPLY ERASED IF NOT FROM THE WATERS .....THEN FROM MEMORIES we hate our lovers from the day we meet and when he's gone we want him back again! so very unloved but wait! when a true friend appears we just call him "nerd" or "geek" lonley loveless yet so safe from the overwhelming reality loving to be unloved the power trip that never fades away
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Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 12:53 PM UTC
unloved minions
Time is moving In a stream of wonderous murderous intending, sacrificing sadness, My ****** devotion, ought to shed blood in a distorted dark was but an perishable spring dream, looping without an end through nights, On sleepless nights, the ghosts of the past gets stuck within a river of pure thoughts, a lake birthing memories in secret, subsconsciously, Discard your common sense, sacrifice your sanity for just this second, When the moon stands high in the sky, a bonfire seals the nights start To its creeping shadows, they do not crackor sparkle under the twinkling stars of this celestial ceiling of pure majesty for nyctophiles, Even our natural satelite agrees, dying itself into a lunatic scarlet red, Darkness upon darkness, with layers of shadows overlapping one another as the light begins to dim, thanks to the disappearing moon, An imaginated landscape, created from only pure rage and fury, But whereabouts of the heart, are likely to be lost to the thought of love I carry within a broken chest of treasury, losing all emotions, Even if my scarlet eyes were to be losing their ability yet to see, I would be able to count on you to guide me, through the everlasting, The dream I awoken from, was a moonlit night turning crimson, losing its radiance through the soft eclipse of the moon, gently, slowly But you were there, within the far away landscape drawn in my heart ~ Umi
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Overlapping Time
Graceful curve of the flower enriched with mystery melting away any bubbling misery walking towards the beauty. (I'm looking to pull this special flower today.) Wait shall I praise the wonderous bloom with fragrant colors infused within me soon something to admire on a daily choosing between multiple types that look equally lovely. (I just want to love you.) The vanilla scent which never fades you rose from a bed of vibrant shades to hold and caress - in your walk stems artistic introduction keep me within your symmetrical seduction And in your radiance glimmers across the horizon and seas its in your nature to please while you tease - but i cant lie, your approach continues with ease. to compare your style with nature only makes sense. how lucky can one be to build a connection that's so intense! I pluck the fascinating petals of an orchid.
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Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
Petals of an Orchid
Holding a pen in hand, preparing pitch-black ink for a blank paper, I begin with gentle, delicate movements, letting it slide over it. One line follows another, one without any bother, any care to it. A regular starshaped polygon, surrounded by a simple circle has been made, one which holds meaning to it, hidden underneath ink. Some might gaze at it as a sign of a greater evil, heresy or worse, Others might watch it in awe, a sign of protection a symbol of hope. A maze with two ends has been made, each with its own belief. However, my tired eyes, which have been worn, gaze at it and see beauty, the connection of each line contains grace, closed by the circle. Thus a smile has been cast on my face, as I look at it another time, Noticing how the black ink has taken the papers purity my cheering sight perishes, saddens in an instant, what I had drawn had become unrecognizable, as the paper spread the ink and distorted this image. The broken in the light, moist and now fragile, drops through, in wonderous, ominous distraction, leaving a great hole in the middle. Unable to be ever repaired the paper finds its trail into the trash, A puddle left of what it was, mixed with the pitch black, had to be cleaned up, so that another attempt could be made, another try. So I pick up my pen once again and connect the lines with a smile. ~ Umi
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Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
The Pentagram
All present in the stream of time, Connected they build a line, a river which flows uninterruptedly, The here and now, is the future of a pasts dream, a wonderous reality, It is the futures past, the memories recorded within the depths of it Gravity distorts time, causing it to slow down till it's stopping point lensed from a black hole, lurking within shadows of remorse in space, Fished out from the sea of passing events, it keeps flowing, but now it does so while not including the fallen one who embraced a blackhole, Time only knows one path, straight ahead with no slips and turns, The present is the pasts future and what was thought to be possible, It is the little wealth every living being possesses yet it is overseen and forgotten, until the moment of ones death drives gladly near, From the womb to the tomb, drowning within the waves of a temporal lengh, the event of an entity's existence and its period. A pace for an allotment, given from the complaints of an worldly life, Spend it well, unlike the spring we cannot turn the tide, recycle again! But for that matter the world of dreams holds a sweet embrace to all, After all, you don't need to die in a dream. ~ Umi
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Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 6:26 PM UTC
Past, Present and Future
Wonderful Woman Wonderous Woman Woman of my imagination's dreams How did you find me? How do I know you? Wonderful Woman Wonderous Woman It is you I have longed for Yet still I long for you Woman of my imagination's dreams Wonderful Woman Wonderous Woman How you have loved me Yet how I have loved you Woman of my dreams (For S.....)
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Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
Woman of my imagination's dreams
Were I a companion, in playful heart To thy aery errands, carried there As a dead leaf, by the spirits of the wind. That this rocky cleft, and its blue dress of dew May tell my senses a murmur, a tale That faith in wonderous things may faint, And unravel what belief dares not paint.
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
Imagination
new year here then soon the spring mother natures wonderous thing daffodils push up through ground crocus snowdrops all around birds are singing with delight sun comes out shining bright bluebells looking so petite very cute and oh so sweet this is springtime natures way of making life so bright and gay
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Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
soon the spring
What if dawn never comes No more bright light from the sun With no sun the moon won't shine In the total darkness will you lose your mind Will you be able to face your fears When your monsters are closing in and getting near Or will you keep running trying to out distance them Feeling like you have been condemned Or will your turn and face those demons And find the greater meanings Will inside yourself you find that gem Will you find where your darkness stems Will you be able to restart your spark And leave in this world your wonderous mark To show the world your true being To let the world know you are no longer fleeing To destroy your mask can be so freeing To banish the dark with the light thats inside Because that's what happens when you have nothing left to hide
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Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
Life Without the Sun
~~~<♡>~~~ Here's a tale of woe and love a ballad soft and low it shows how greed can rise above and how far it will go King Midas had a wonderous gift turned everything he touched into gold, an alchemy shift he wanted wealth so much But he loved his daughter more than that she, a maid so bold she ran to him where he then sat and became solid gold Thus ends the tale of avarice Midas had the world but would have lost all in a trice to save his little girl SoulSurvivor (C) 6/2/2015
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
King Midas' Daughter
your worth, it is nothing you are nothing you are nothing comparable how can someone be compared? you are unique to the highest degree there is no definition for your beauty because your looks are more than a couple sentences not only your looks but you look at you look at you on the inside do you see all the power you possess? from every weakness you may have to every strength you have from every acne scar to every single muscle which may or may not be defined you are powerful in every sense of the word you are powerful because you are human you are powerful because you were made to be great you are powerful you are dynamic you are wonderous you are absolutely extraordinary you are a story that I would love to read you are more than how you view yourself because I view you as heavenly you are absolutely breathtaking. repeat after me, I am absolutely breathtaking I am absolutely breathtaking I AM absolutely breathtaking you are...                                        a million things that cannot be put into words.
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
Repeat After Me
theres nothing i like more a wonderous site to see i like to see the squirrel jump from tree to tree jumping between the branches never ever still bouncing in and out using so much skill keeping so much balance he does it all with ease making it look easy on his own trapeze. then climbs in a hole that is very deep shuts his little eyes then off he goes to sleep.
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Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 12:12 PM UTC
watching squirrels
He who leads is wonderous indeed and those who follow are surely weak I want to break the pack mentality and rise individualized For a pack is only as strong as one Imagine the army we could create
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Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
The Power of Individualism
Streched out gazing, on the sands, Of one more of the common seas, An orange orb setting slowly apparent, Shiny path of light heavenly,reaching my feet, Taking me briefly,to creations wonderous, Minds magnanimous,hearts Alexandrian, A short utopia of a world universally real! The unrests forgotten, all toils borne stoic. All shall pass,Endurance is all, truly Human! As the path sinks into the deep waters dark, To shine in worlds other,rays of morning hope, I know they shall witness the same, some morning! Night lights of revelry beckon me,the traveller ever, I merge in them,the sunset feeling sacred in my heart, Praying,May it hold true for all people all over Earth!
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Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
Thoughts of a Traveller on a Greecian Sunset in Santorini.
On the far side of me was you.  I ride on my lightning bike passed Neptune in route toward home.  Its good to see my solar system.  I have been all over the galaxy.  Seen wonders no one has ever seen.  And yet none are as wonderous as you smiling at me for but a moment.  I cannot have you nor will I steal you away.  All I want is your smile. Just to see it.  Then I will ride off for the 2nd universe.  On my lightning bike made of star glass.  To see if I can find a wonder that is more wonderous than you.  I smile at the thought of me coming back again. Just to view your smile.  Because I know that even in the 2nd universe there is nothing more beautiful than you.
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Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
On the lightning bike...
Cold beer, a long necked bottle held to my forehead and in my throat, to my lips, so relief comes both ways, glad for it, the double of the cool, helps the day of troubled nothingness, and the long necked bottle makes it worth the extra second of anticipated tasty wait can't drink in the river park, don't cotton to brown paper bags, do it anyway cause the East River tides me over on its way thru the Verrazano Narrows, bound for the Atlantic with me low rider spirit in tow, a devil may care attitude en contrôle this troubadour opened the store at 700am but not a one came looking for a song, but the mail came reliable, with dues due, promises that need keeping, and other items, what the grownups call responsibilities June Monday early eve and the Moran tugboats ply their trade like reliable ****** to the sailors, and their larger than bathtub size toys, turning containers, freighters, into docile boys who do as they are told on their way to ports far there are stick figures outlined on the hexagon paving stones that are so nyc for me, here pedestrian! follow your designated path here pedestrian, you must walk to be safe arrived but I take to the railing, where  Isaac-bound and mesmerized, I imagine surfing the churning wakes on the surface of the riveting tides and wonderous wanderlust for where we are bound... no voice heard from the heavens, saying Abraham put down that knife, because I have not passed the test of true belief, perhaps the river's invitation is my test, if I should sing another song here, perhaps it will tale the end of this tell...
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Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
By the East River, a Cold Beer, on My Forehead...
Cold beer, a long necked bottle held to my forehead and in my throat, to my lips, so relief comes both ways, glad for it, the double of the cool, helps the day of troubled nothingness, and the long necked bottle makes it worth the extra second of anticipated tasty wait can't drink in the river park, don't cotton to brown paper bags, do it anyway cause the East River tides me over on its way thru the Verrazano Narrows, bound for the Atlantic with me low rider spirit in tow, a devil may care attitude en contrôle this troubadour opened the store at 700am but not a one came looking for a song, but the mail came reliable, with dues due, promises that need keeping, and other items, what the grownups call responsibilities June Monday early eve and the Moran tugboats ply their trade like reliable ****** to the sailors, and their larger than bathtub size toys, turning containers, freighters, into docile boys who do as they are told on their way to ports far there are stick figures outlined on the hexagon paving stones that are so nyc for me, here pedestrian! follow your designated path here pedestrian, you must walk to be safe arrived but I take to the railing, where  Isaac-bound and mesmerized, I imagine surfing the churning wakes on the surface of the riveting tides and wonderous wanderlust for where we are bound... no voice heard from the heavens, saying Abraham put down that knife, because I have not passed the test of true belief, perhaps the river's invitation is my test, if I should sing another song here, perhaps it will tale the end of this tell...
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