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When sunlight sings its dawning cheers,
beyond her bridge one hundred years,
will pass as though a day appears.
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In wonder of her natured ways,
an angel wrapped in mortal skin
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Surely none as yet unread
have birthed such words more sweet.
by Garmond
33 lines, 43 comments,
on Sep 9 1:46 AM
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A breezed caress
brought tingled cool
to wash my shirtless skin
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Let me wake
those sleepy leaves
to dance in rustling quivers.
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By fate the dazzling wildflower
can not be picked for love.
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Love’s final kiss spills bitter wine
A slow withdraw, her hand from mine
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A signet’s fate is set to swan
yet dear she loved the boy.
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Shy flame on a candle giggles nigh;
to flare a spark within my eye.
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My cornered glance which found her first became affixed in trance;
on her curves in flow to a rhythm slow as she snaked in a writhing danc
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As lucid thoughts melt
to the warm seduction of sleep,
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But one endeared held tight to stay
determined not to break this way
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Naked feet cannot carry me…
to where the angels dwell.
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Where the long cool grass hides violets wild
and the gusts bring leaves to shiver;
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Rest your tongue from searching words.
Let speech succumb for listening.
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Love was a late night bookstore.
Lust was his favourite theme.
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Seat me warm with artists wild
and poets lost in thought;
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By chance a God if such is there
This final word with you I share
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I’ve waited here within these words
my outstretched hand take hold.
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A light beam left it’s golden orb
And sped towards the moon
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Magenta dusk.
A lonely shore.
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With three left feet I climbed her stairs
a thumping tripping sound.
by Garmond
74 lines, 17 comments,
on Apr 29 1:32 AM
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Instantly I liked her smile,
though stood there dumb for words.
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Glitter dust upon her feet ensure she cannot run
Translucent thorns now lusting blood in waiting.
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Surrender soft, sweet petal sleep,
your every dream confide.
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A make-up mask disguising
her deep resented beauty.
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Needle weave in colour twine,
slowly dripping seconds.
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Guitars and a suitcase, a bag and a box,
turning the page as the front door unlocks.
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Creature I, spirit, flesh Searching, finding, never rest.
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It starts again with brick on brick
with rain and sun comes change.
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Hippy and Hop were young kangaroos. Hop really wanted his own pair of shoes.
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The King is lusting power,
comparing to his peers.
The queen is in her R.U.V
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Velvet is her touch to keys,
as sleeping are her eyes.
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