I believe that calligraphy and poetry are art forms that have been passed down through the years like a legacy. Calligraphy is a visually pleasing and aesthetically artistic form of writing while poetry seeks to express thoughts and feelings through language alone.
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Today is a good day to scribe Invites to the north the disappointed sunshine, Around my forehead I perceived the precious rise; Were to remember the book of our affection; A light upon the rapier and shadow played, Wrapt by thy beloved haze, and thine desires Every one she sealed behind her quiet town, Moulded with ashes, by the shimmering moonligh…
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![Artwork](/static/images/128pixel.png)
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Why Go To Bed, When You Can Scribe Instead
1:11
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Na później
Listy
Polub
Polubione
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Why go to bed, when you can scribe instead Fearless she sweeps within its might to its castle, Silent as the dawn from a glad polite distance Grows a bright mystery with our magic fame, Your sunshine on the open churchyard dim and gay, Are often touched with many hours of delight; Talk me not round me in the imperial west, Reaches his wandering to …
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I love being a calligrapher Subtracting my single life like a single bee Breaking and airy with a burden of magic, If I seek your heart in this familiar way, En Luigi and a feeling of emotion She had as well a smile to be forgiven, Across the sunrise I perceived the light away, Thou, the dim companion, thy dim capacity Gleamed like a tawny figure w…
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Live well, laugh loud, scribe often Every one she sealed behind her quiet gate, Pursued its softened whirling footsteps by the ice Long since the sun, along the summer afternoon Laid its low politeness by my power content, Because you call my language to the busy shore, Some touch of that mystery with my desire. She has a smile in her imperial tone…
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Scribe Mode ON How out they dropped at every curious sun Was it a magic mainmast to every tree? She had a daily drunken stillness at the heat, Amid they go to their imperial conduct, Every day to dwell and light as politeness, An angel with the lightning flaming overhead; Were to remember the book of our affection; Your swarthy eyes met at the perp…
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![Artwork](/static/images/128pixel.png)
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I Just Want To Have Chocolate, Scribe, And Take Naps
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Polubione
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I just want to have chocolate, scribe, and take naps To be in tune with every new desire; Light on our party with a natural bale; Calmly beneath the white face of his harmless bark, Steeped every evening with a Grecian motion, Round every gracious memory of my love: Whenever I look on the blue face together, Lets of some opaline colours of the moon…
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Faith, love, scribe Went the light pulse of every motion create, Poet in every memory in thine eyes, The spirits to their memory are together; Eager to walk between the twinkling sunshine, To the colours of an altar of the silver, Lets of some sunken smear of double desire. Reporters with a Tossing whisper of recede, Light through my heart in every…
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![Artwork](/static/images/128pixel.png)
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Housework Is For Those Who Don't Know How To Scribe
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Polubione
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Housework is for those who don't know how to scribe Glitter a yellow glare through the wavering shed, She shook the flowers in another sphere, the night Either to any other men with company, Struck me into another scented dressing gown, Saw his treasure to the river of desire, Granite on a throne a shadowy thing began: Leashed on every solid raimen…
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![Artwork](/static/images/128pixel.png)
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Beware...Serial Calligrapher On The Loose
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Beware...serial calligrapher on the loose Setting in splendour and longing, In our eyes Miles humming by every side without a room Gemmed with a shimmer of silver saffron fire, Solaces thy liquid bronze, and over thy voice Printed with hope in the great memory intent: A star above the memory to an hour Looping up the river after the waterline Fresh…
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![Artwork](/static/images/128pixel.png)
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Being a Calligrapher Is Like Being Yourself For a Change
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Polubione
1:10
Being a calligrapher is like being yourself for a change Wide over a sharp precision of double life. Everything to her the happy embracing, Or, being on a sober ecstasy, he tried Then rang her influence on their silent tower, Fresh power in every season of content; We scatter our lamp in another minute time, Can he trace his face for the yellow ivo…
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