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Quotes about reputable, page 2

ADORABLE ARE WOMEN AS MOTHERS (A Mother’s Day Acrostic)

Adorable are women as mothers!
Detestable when they can kill children;
Obtainable when purchased for a sum;
Reputable when they can reach great heights;
Amicable are women as sisters;
Believable are women when good wives;
Lovable are women as grand-daughters;
Enviable are women as daughters.

Acceptable when pining for some love;
Remarkable when sacrificing lots;
Exaltable when rearing children fine.

Worshipable for keeping peace at home;
Observable when attention-seeking;
Manageable when husbands earn enough;
Excusable for love of ornaments;
Notable for patience exemplary.

Accessible to children in their needs;

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This Poem Is About Agitation

What is this poem about?
And...
What are the poetic devices used?

'Huh?
I remember a timepeople used their minds,
With a thinking process curious enough to research...
For an understanding.

We live in those times when dictionaries are no longer used.
And there are those receiving diplomas and degrees,
From reputable schools...
Who neither can read or write.
But brag about pledging to sororities and fraternities,
And partying day end and all through the night.

What is this poem about?
And the poetic devices used?

This poem is about agitation and another's applied laziness.

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I Call Him A Hero

He who's rich yet not proud,
He who's humble yet not easily swayed by the crowd,
He who's influential yet dislikes corruption and fraud,
He who's powerful yet doesn't boss around,
I calll him a hero -
a superhero and a half!

He who's weak but seldom stumbles,
He who's conscience never crumbles,
He who's often hurt but never grumbles,
He who's famous yet faithful like the knight of times ancient,
He who's reputable yet reasonably patient,
I call him a hero -
a superhero and a half!

He who's vulnerable yet likes caring,
He who's got a little yet loves sharing,
He who's always under pressure yet loves sacrificing for others,
He who likes to look and listen and learn more than giving orders,
I call him a hero -

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Confession

I have a negative freedom,
Isolating and weakening me very much.
I got hurt many times,
But the most important wounds
Were at my heel and my soul.
I broke my collar-bone of soul
In wrestling with my love for life
And I feel my heel like Achilles, when
I think of my freedom.
Maybe some gigantic forces are beyond my control.
Today, because of my old injuries,
I can’t go on with my life.
I was told that my soul was mildly sprained,
But the soul injury was much more serious than I was told.
So, I’m abandoned, living with my pain.
I'm a modern person, being so well rooted
In the complexity of social forces.
My speech is always passively
And, without some form of universal care,
I’ll never be able to go on this way.

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Tenderness Is A Privilege Of Few

Name the violence and her sons
A sort of callousness enshrouds us
Harsh words friendly support bitter behaviours
And tenderness is a privilege of few

I can't let you die, I can't, I am sorry
The only thing I may do for you is to allow me not to exist anymore
What I was, the one you knew has to be choked off
Despite my awkward attempt to survive with you
I do recognise that I don't deserve your memory

Stunned by the revelation I wander in despair
Still and frozen my mind learns your thoughts by heart
Is that everything lost?
And then mist in my dreams, your gaze weird moved by compassion
Does it mean that you felt my pain?

Name the violence and her sons
A sort of callousness enshrouds us
Harsh words friendly support bitter behaviours

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Awoken Call

I remember the time
before I was born.

I remember impending departure time
immediately before. Soul sent.
I was suddenly shockingly born
so clearly. Hail Mary. Mother of God.

Gathered assemblage collectively
communicates silent vibrations.
Before launching soul’s journey.
Before my spirit readied, assimilated,
released, enters laboured. Earthbound.
Contraction’s baby birthing channel.
Time fading back folding inward
internalized eternity rapidly receding.

Strange no martyr sympathetic tears
shed formulated held back. Though transfiguration
soul destined. Upon crucifixion transfixed torment.

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Christmas Song

She was his girl, he was her boyfriend
Shed be his wife, and make him her husband.
A surprise on the way any day any day
One healthy little giggling, dribbling baby boy
The wisemen came, three made their way
To shower him with love while he lay in the hay
Shower him with love, love, love
Love,love,love
Love,love was all around.
Not very much of his childhood was known
Kept his mother mary worried always out on his own
He met another mary, who for a reasonable fee,
Less than reputable was known to be
His heart was full of love, love, love
Love, love, love
Love, love was all around.
When jesus christ nailed to his tree
Said oh daddy-o, I can see how it all soon will be
I came to shed a little light on this darkening sea
Instead I fear Ive spilled the blood of my children all around

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Fifth Book

AURORA LEIGH, be humble. Shall I hope
To speak my poems in mysterious tune
With man and nature,–with the lava-lymph
That trickles from successive galaxies
Still drop by drop adown the finger of God,
In still new worlds?–with summer-days in this,
That scarce dare breathe, they are so beautiful?–
With spring's delicious trouble in the ground
Tormented by the quickened blood of roots.
And softly pricked by golden crocus-sheaves
In token of the harvest-time of flowers?–
With winters and with autumns,–and beyond,
With the human heart's large seasons,–when it hopes
And fears, joys, grieves, and loves?–with all that strain
Of sexual passion, which devours the flesh
In a sacrament of souls? with mother's breasts,
Which, round the new made creatures hanging there,
Throb luminous and harmonious like pure spheres?–
With multitudinous life, and finally
With the great out-goings of ecstatic souls,

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Seventh Book

'THE woman's motive? shall we daub ourselves
With finding roots for nettles? 'tis soft clay
And easily explored. She had the means,
The moneys, by the lady's liberal grace,
In trust for that Australian scheme and me,
Which so, that she might clutch with both her hands,
And chink to her naughty uses undisturbed,
She served me (after all it was not strange,;
'Twas only what my mother would have done)
A motherly, unmerciful, good turn.

'Well, after. There are nettles everywhere,
But smooth green grasses are more common still;
The blue of heaven is larger than the cloud;
A miller's wife at Clichy took me in
And spent her pity on me,–made me calm
And merely very reasonably sad.
She found me a servant's place in Paris where
I tried to take the cast-off life again,
And stood as quiet as a beaten ass

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II. Half-Rome

What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)

Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,

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