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Poems On / About SWIMMING  7/28/2015 2:44:52 PM
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Not true, but we all get pricked sometime. Life is not a walk in the park with a glass of honey and lime. I feel so restless seeing this picture in my head, nowadays it's the hardest thing to make a wish instead. Bcoz we dnt believe in shooting-stars anymore, we just want to swim at the shore. We hate the tough tides, life's slips and slides. Maybe I 'we' too much, life has got me in a crunch. Now I am tired of being part of a bunch, forgive me for not sharing my lunch. This has nothing to do with love, bcoz it looks like everyone wants to shoot down the white dove.
Ziggy Mantyi

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The Question Of The New

A new story, a new hero, a new case and study. Another course another action. Painting fate with words that can so easily taint. Praying and forever hoping for the greatness of the success of love. Sometimes it strikes when your at strongest only to tear you down. Sometimes it strikes you when your at your weakest to build you back up. strange is the path it takes. No set way, every time is different. And every time you expose yourself in someway. Open is the mind and heart, blinded by a fool whim. In these waters so deep can you swim?
Ace Of Black Hearts

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A Volcano Grows

The mountain roars its vicious threat 'Get Away', As the rumbling earth begins to play. The sparks danced in the sky, And lights blinked strange colors up high. The foggy gray air swallowed the light, And the hot red lava started its flight. The heat kissed my cheeks so red, As the lava stream made its bed. Magma cooked beneath my feet, And rows of trees screamed out from the heat. The volcanic cherry syrup swam out to sea, And you could hear the earth sing out with glee.
Alice praises YHVH

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Soft Salted Seas.

We live on soft salted sea, lull and lullaby to the sound of the waving land. Pebble dash wall support us, they bore us, ignore us, spat us out and tore us from great mother's womb where we swam the dark endless collision of day and night.

Drinking we swayed in the hot anticipation, perspiration, whilst overhead the moon swirls like a fish, he splays his face to us, frolics and follies to the pitied patter of dancing feet. We cling to the sticky Atlantic glare of our surroundings. Scream and release onto antiseptic tables to the men with antiseptic hands.
Livi Topley

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Poems On / About SWIMMING