I am surprised how such a small oval birdbath I keep in my backyard, attracts so many birds of different species. Of course, I do live in a desert. A lesson in there somewhere. Perhaps make a desert of one's heart, put a small bath of new love offered, and see what winged beauty it may attract.
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I wouldn’t have looked at her twice if she hadn’t smiled at me first. She wasn’t your typical pretty or the other Disney character who is completely a misfit and happy about it. But she had a quality I couldn’t place my finger on and I guess that’s all that made the difference.
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Wounds will heal, but not the lingering pain;
I can persuade myself that it's possible to stop it: how can hurt become a forgetful event without having learned anything from it and go on making believe it was never felt by me?
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Effort sowed; success reaped. Now, venture forth fearlessly, for the world eagerly awaits your ingenuity. - Aloo Denish Obiero
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Max Burchett, a writer, singer and songwriter, crooner, a teller of tales, a dream maker, soul shaker and captivator, hoping that in verse and prose he prevails
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Pagal Pagal bool kar goliyan bullets khilao gay ya phir apni syringe ka dhakan otar kar syringe ka soi needle Meri bund me chubao gay?
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- Horse, Winged
* A symbol of the Aspiring Higher Mind
"By the Winged Horse, Pegasus, the Ancients understood the intellect of the Truth by which Wisdom is Attained. By the hoofs of his feet, the experiences through which the natural intelligence comes" -Swedenborg
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"In every Legend in which Thoth takes a Prominent part, we see that it is he who speaks The Word that results in the wishes of Ra' being carried into effect. Then spoke Thoth to Ra', there came the instrument of Behudet in the form of a Great Winged-Disk, from this day forth he shall be called
Horbehudti (Horus Of Edfu" - Legend of the Winged Sun-Disk
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Quality Wala syringe use kiya karo takay takleef Kam ho sojan na ho gilta na banay.
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Agar syringe achi company ka ho to phir soi ka zaida chuban NAHI hota agar needle sahi Wala na ho to phir bara chubta hai.
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"A writer, singer and songwriter, a crooner, a teller of tales, a dream maker, a soul shaker and captivator, hoping in verse and prose he prevails" from the poem "The Poet" by Max Burchett
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The world of dew.
T
he world is a muggy soaked place Dewey eyed green to my ingenious,innocent,inexperienced,unworldly,unsuspicious,unsuspecting self wide eyed unknowing of the bedened glistening watery mist of a world of dew.
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"Keep your finger on the pulse of reality." /// 9 June 2023
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Uncertainty overflows in discordant doubts, it inspires the notes of a strange melody that is created with rapid finger claps to seek its absent happiness.
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While in the human body, spirit yet senses its divine, loving source -- for there lingers a soul hunger, an alienation that no experience on earth can fully satisfy. A need to be one again with our God.
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Nothing just murder plan by 5 cc syringe.
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snow touches with love the forest trees and fields and every single thing with his cold fingers, and covers them all with a white blanket, whispering, now go to sleep...
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Even though all fingers are not equal, They live together to form palm figure.
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Time --- Or it is just sneaking away from our fingers slit.
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The Singer is not the song...
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What does a zombie cheerleader eat?
**Spirit fingers**
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Opinions without research and thought are harbingers of fruitlessness.
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No matter how much pain is there within inside, There must be a fringe of happiness outside.
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If you can count all your true friends,on the fingers of one hand,then you've truly been blessed.
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Each day I'm plagued by three doles,
These gargantuan weights on my soul:
First, that I must somehow EXIT this fen.
Second, because I cannot know WHEN.
And yet it's the third that torments me so,
Having no way to know where the HELL I will go!
('Ech day me cometh tydinges thre' loose translation by Michael R. Burch; keywords: doles, dolor, tidings, sorrow, pain, depression, lament)
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Old pantaloons are soft and white,
prudent days, imprudent nights
when fingers slip through drawers to feel
that which they long most to steal.
Old panty loons are soft and white,
prudent days, imprudent nights
when fingers slip through drawers to steal
that which they long most to feel.
('Old Pantaloons' an Extended Chiasmus by Michael R. Burch)
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Child:Whats wrong Mama?
Mama:My heart hurts.....
Child:Its ok Mama, my finger hurts....
leanne d morgan
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It is very satifsfying to step back and read poetry from years gone by written by recognized masters of their chosen art. So much history at our fingertips; so little time.
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'Hurry Honey' A secret..."We discovered "NEW" 'Country Urban Poetry' collection by Poet Herbert Ray Pitre and singer"
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True Love is winged,
never shackled by control or jealousy.
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