The negligence of loveataral romanincing
Is a process where one partner undermines
In the favor of ones self.
It is to speak a partner unloved might
The other spy or cause unravelings
Due to the kinship of partnering.
Done in the sight of duty, might there
tainted feelings make script in there
deceit. Often to the applaudes of
Others there allowance to introduce
Gives them right to deceive.
As hatred disguised as righteousness
Redraws the character, making villains
Of ordinary characters.?? villaining
People into their interputations of
Villains, or villianest so on and ECT!
The blueing oboe intros the bassoon
With detail created by the fluter, calm the
Shores of Natron might the birdlike creature
Remember to fly, to crush the statues on the
Shores of Surriento!
Written by: Phalus Crumbuios
Legend of Chelloius
FLYING SQUIRREL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seth the squirrel was tired of leaping from tree to tree.
“My commute’s horrible! Got ta be a better way for me.”
Scampered to the toy store, bought toy bike from pal, Mike
Attached some balsa wood using Gorilla Glue. Wah la! He was birdlike.
Next day from hustle and bustle of commuter traffic, he happily did flee.
Unbeknownst to Seth, flying squirrels in open airspace don’t mix,
Ostracized Seth was—not a member of the flyer’s club, a squirrelish clique.
One day was almost hit by specially designed spy drones
‘twas Putin’s, for their black flags bore a skull and crossbones.
Fearing for his life, Seth sold his plane-bike on eBay, his flying days nixed.
I live far, far North of sustainable warmth.
At times in winter, it's so cold
that the snow under my boots
goes into frosty death rattle mode.
It's within this hue of brutal
that an unknown entity cries out softly.
It sounds more birdlike or like the soul of a white moth.
I think it's praying for sunshine-while begging for a crumb.
I'd like to help, but its cries just drift off.
Forming a duet with my boots beneath the frozen gloaming.
Few people there were,
the day was slipping gently
into rising pools of twilight.
Passing city lights
winked
behand stands of trees.
Here is a family of walkers,
how like birds they appear?
Their young, sleepily following,
tethered by feathers of light
in the silent dark.
Over there, a little apart,
birdlike,
a man and his spouse talk in low tones
their words peck unheard.
We are all here,
speaking between the light and its shadows.
Aware of each other we are,
like the sky is aware of the earth
when evening roosts
among all the nesting thoughts
collected that day.
The immaterial has been gathered in,
arranged,
we now settle as one,
only to fly away into another day.
Sparrow comforted the tiny faerie whose heart was broken.
She could not express her sorrow, it was almost unspoken.
But her hazel eyes screamed sadness, and there was hurt for sure.
He stayed by her side, with a fluttery song all noble and pure.
You are my best pal, faerie girl said to her new friend.
They shared their ups and their uppers through looks and energy song.
Their sweet supportive friendship lasted until the end of the end.
Pals to the end, singing about a birdlike faerie throng.
Awake those memories of the first touch,
the unending kisses and the taste of the flowery buds
oh! the loving steer, piercing though my joints.
the ravishing silence of words unutterable .
the escapades and many stealthily adventures in the clouds
I yearn, i crave for those soft loving touch,
to hear the sonorous chirping of the birdlike music.
to feel the rains of love like a new born baby.
and glow anew by a tenderly cuddling love.
Touch me again, feel me afresh.
Oh love, i crave with a burning passion.
make the river flow from my heart through these thighs
I long to be enamored in your arms oh! love .
my love, my princess.
Is the fire gone cold?
Burn anew, come forth as at first.
Cuddle me, cuddle me,cuddle me
chirpy and happy
with melody birdlike ways
he was a flutist
Garden’s luxury of pinkest foxglove,
Nurtured by angels from way up above,
Along with petunias and marigolds,
Honors the true path of the very old.
Joyful delight oozing from every pore,
Fairy brownie heart completely did soar.
Sweet deer in the meadow came up to see,
Owls and robins were looking from their tree.
Twilight breezed in on tiny birdlike wings.
Macaw and crow were given shiny things.
My poet’s heart was cheering in my dream.
Gentle brook trickled into every stream.
A prettier scene will never be found.
Joyfulness and love oozing all around.
That star there...
The shining-first star
(shining over the Shikargah forest ),
I have been watching it o dear son , here,
At this window
For years now --
Since my late-twenties I think .
It has had been my inspiration --all the time:
The days mom had passed away ...,
Or the days with stepmom ....
The days I had met an out-of-this-world stranger ...,
The days I was betrayed in love ....
Or nowadays --
I am accompanied by
A birdlike creature like you...
lifted
my words just barely dried
a poem appears in Spring
draws breath from a widow
close at hand, open to new
worlds across the land.
gently are these bon mot
teased into the silken air
escape capture on white
sheets fly to the magnolia
in full bloom. birdlike they preen,
cavort as do all new things in Spring.
How quietly the night goes gliding by;
How peacefully the might of it doth fill.
There's not a star up in the far dark sky
But fiery, gleams, and yet is calm and still.
An ocean of sweet grass flows around
The houses on the dimlit street. Some far-
Off bird cheeps, then goes to sleep. She found
In dreams, perhaps, some higher birdlike star
And waking, saw, but knew she dreamed too far.
Yet every height was in her leap-star sound.
I hold her voice; the daring of its bliss
Stirs through my spirit all that I have yearned
For in my blown-out past, and, as I will,
The inner wick of dream to flame is turned.
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