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Dedicate a poem to someone For Ness :
Imbolc The Mother sleeps beneath her blanket of white The Dawn is coming, the end to the night The Mother is dreaming beneath her blanket of white Of green budding trees And buzzing honey bees Lambs drinking milk from their mother's breast And visions of her children dancing under the sun Slowly she turns, and begins to stir As the young Sun begins to grow warm Wake up, wake up he seems to urge Not yet, young one, she says through a yawn There is still some time before the dawn Some days remain before the shoots will be seen Till the sap begins to flow up the tree Watch and wait for the dreamtime to end And listen for the song of the birds in the glen Earth Mother we share your dreams of the Spring It's the time to prepare for the coming of spring It's the time to begin to clean up some things To focus within, for the coming rebirth To nurture those things still locked in the earth Only a little longer till we walk in the Sun like those that came before us, as those yet to come. | |
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Mach said: For Ness :
Imbolc The Mother sleeps beneath her blanket of white The Dawn is coming, the end to the night The Mother is dreaming beneath her blanket of white Of green budding trees And buzzing honey bees Lambs drinking milk from their mother's breast And visions of her children dancing under the sun Slowly she turns, and begins to stir As the young Sun begins to grow warm Wake up, wake up he seems to urge Not yet, young one, she says through a yawn There is still some time before the dawn Some days remain before the shoots will be seen Till the sap begins to flow up the tree Watch and wait for the dreamtime to end And listen for the song of the birds in the glen Earth Mother we share your dreams of the Spring It's the time to prepare for the coming of spring It's the time to begin to clean up some things To focus within, for the coming rebirth To nurture those things still locked in the earth Only a little longer till we walk in the Sun like those that came before us, as those yet to come. such a happy pagan you are | |
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For: Phil
The frangrance always lingers in the hand that gives the rose. maybe it's not a poem | |
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To Anx:
So much depends on the red imago, glazed with rain water, beside the white chickens | |
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Imago said: To Anx:
So much depends on the red imago, glazed with rain water, beside the white chickens Mondo dork | |
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IAintTheOne said: Imago said: To Anx:
So much depends on the red imago, glazed with rain water, beside the white chickens Mondo dork | |
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For : Stymie
Journey up The journey up to where you want to go is not a straight line, or even a steady grade. You go around corners, crossing the path you've taken, able to look back down to where you've been but not quite up to where you want to go. The best you can do is hold on to a general sense of direction, counting the steps for morale, keeping towards the light. as best you can. The hall lantern may be lit, or dark, so you need a little faith that those sloping ceilings cobwebs, whatever grows in those dusty corners won't get in your way, because you really have no choice. Going back down is not an option and the steps, though uneven, rough and steep will eventually take you where you need to go. | |
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For Fantasy
The outing Sometimes your trip down memory lane takes you to a place that's changed, reflects your difference like a mirror. So it's a journey back and forward too, along a road that spirals, through your inner rings to where you see them clearly- where you've come from, what you've done, who you've been, and what you've loved about yourself. So take the day trip back along your route of coming here, so you can meet yourself, say hello, give a hug, before moving on to where you want to go. | |
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For Apples
Life is like a garden And friendship like a flower, That blooms and grows in beauty With the sunshine and the shower. And lovely are the blossoms That are tended with great care, By those who work unselfishly To make the place more fair. And, like the garden blossoms, Friendship's flower grows more sweet When watched and tended carefully By those we know and meet. And, if the seed of friendship Is planted deep and true And watched with understanding, Friendship's flower will bloom for you. | |
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To Mach
Today I found a friend who knew everything I felt she knew my weakness and the problems I've been dealt. She understood my wonders and listened to my dreams, she listened to how I felt about life and love and knew what it all means. Not once did she interrupt me or tell me I was wrong she understood what I was going through and promised she'd stay long. I reached out to this friend, to show her that I care to pull her close and let her know how much I need her there. I went to hold her hand to pull her a bit nearer and I realized this perfect friend I found was nothing but a mirror. | |
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To IB
A friend is like a flower, a rose to be exact, Or maybe like a brand new gate that never comes unlatched. A friend is like an owl, both beautiful and wise. Or perhaps a friend is like a ghost, whose spirit never dies. A friend is like those blades of grass you can never mow, standing straight, tall, and proud in a perfect little row. A friend is like a heart that goes strong until the end. Where would we be in this world if we didn't have a friend. | |
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Mach said: For Apples
Life is like a garden And friendship like a flower, That blooms and grows in beauty With the sunshine and the shower. And lovely are the blossoms That are tended with great care, By those who work unselfishly To make the place more fair. And, like the garden blossoms, Friendship's flower grows more sweet When watched and tended carefully By those we know and meet. And, if the seed of friendship Is planted deep and true And watched with understanding, Friendship's flower will bloom for you. Thank you, Mach | |
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2the9s said: :faloff: There's a storm comin' 9s! | |
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Mach said: For Fantasy
The outing Sometimes your trip down memory lane takes you to a place that's changed, reflects your difference like a mirror. So it's a journey back and forward too, along a road that spirals, through your inner rings to where you see them clearly- where you've come from, what you've done, who you've been, and what you've loved about yourself. So take the day trip back along your route of coming here, so you can meet yourself, say hello, give a hug, before moving on to where you want to go. thank you. There is no perfect place
Yes I know this is true I'm just learning how to smile Thats not easy to do | |
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IMAGO THREADJACKER post me a poem | |
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To DanceWme
If I when DanceWMe is sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists above shining trees,-- if I in my north room dance naked, grotesquely before my mirror waving my shirt round my head and singing softly to myself: "The B75! The B75!!" If I admire my arms, my face, my shoulders, flanks, buttocks again the yellow drawn shades,-- Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my Cobble Hil? | |
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for IMAGO
I like your style I like your class But most of all i like your ass | |
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for Jersey
Sex is when a guys communication Enters a girls information To increase the population For a younger generation Do you get the information... Or do you need a demonstration | |
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2the9s said: To DanceWme
If I when DanceWMe is sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists above shining trees,-- if I in my north room dance naked, grotesquely before my mirror waving my shirt round my head and singing softly to myself: "The B75! The B75!!" If I admire my arms, my face, my shoulders, flanks, buttocks again the yellow drawn shades,-- Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my Cobble Hil? 9s ur so sad | |
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