nt-march - Hello Poetry

She builds a nest, builds a home Out of twine and twigs and love Day and night, dawn and gloam, She works in trees above. All to prepare for her offspring To give them the chance to fly Only the best for her children These are the words to her cry A fortnight her eyes are skinned She is sentinel over her eggs Come storm, gale, blustering wind Her treasures safe under her legs At last she meets her brood Hungry and unrefined She tirelessly gathers food Their lives now intertwined She kisses the food into their beaks She cares for their every need She answers their every screak To love, to tend, to feed. She watches them grow new feathers, And reach out to the beckoning sky They want to see other weathers So she teaches them how to fly They soar higher and higher She watches from below It makes her smile and smile To see her babies go As they climb and tumble She makes sure to let them know They are always welcome to return To the home built long ago The love she gave her young ones Gave them the strength to fly The strength to build their own nests High up in the sky.

0

Aug 17, 2018

Aug 17, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC

Mother bird

She builds a nest, builds a home Out of twine and twigs and love Day and night, dawn and gloam, She works in trees above. All to prepare for her offspring To give them the chance to fly Only the best for her children These are the words to her cry A fortnight her eyes are skinned She is sentinel over her eggs Come storm, gale, blustering wind Her treasures safe under her legs At last she meets her brood Hungry and unrefined She tirelessly gathers food Their lives now intertwined She kisses the food into their beaks She cares for their every need She answers their every screak To love, to tend, to feed. She watches them grow new feathers, And reach out to the beckoning sky They want to see other weathers So she teaches them how to fly They soar higher and higher She watches from below It makes her smile and smile To see her babies go As they climb and tumble She makes sure to let them know They are always welcome to return To the home built long ago The love she gave her young ones Gave them the strength to fly The strength to build their own nests High up in the sky.

36

To eat or not to eat? To disappear into nothingness or to grow and blossom? To live or to die? To diet to live? To live to diet? To fail or to succeed? To be strong or to be weak? To drown or to float? To be who I am or to be who I wish I were? To accept imperfection or to strive for perfection? To be happy and content or to be sad and eternally unsatisfied? To eat or not to eat?

0

Aug 17, 2018

Aug 17, 2018 at 7:06 PM UTC

To eat or not to eat?

To eat or not to eat? To disappear into nothingness or to grow and blossom? To live or to die? To diet to live? To live to diet? To fail or to succeed? To be strong or to be weak? To drown or to float? To be who I am or to be who I wish I were? To accept imperfection or to strive for perfection? To be happy and content or to be sad and eternally unsatisfied? To eat or not to eat?

12

Panic. The final sound of the door being locked from outside. Mothers crying for children. Children crying for Mothers. Hundreds of people shoving you into corners trying to reach loved ones. A young boy falls to the floor, the mother watches him being trampled, unable to move, unable to breathe. My lungs are screaming for air. Where? Why? Fear. Stumbling into an unknown darkness. The fear of falling asleep and never waking up. Contemplating whether death is better than this. The terrifying crack of a shotgun. A silence howling with anxiety. The beating of the engine counting down minutes perfectly synchronised with my heart. The lady next to me has her eyes closed, I shake her, silently praying for her to be asleep, she doesn’t stir. Despair. I’ve lost track of time, two days, three days, a never ending eternity? Death surrounds me, trying to pull me in to envelop me, it’s so hard to fight, so easy to welcome. I am surrounded by people, but have never felt so alone. We are running on animal instincts, whatever food we have we don’t share. On this train, good morals **** Agony. The heat, the stifling heat. It is dizzying, nauseating. The air is too thick to breathe, to live. There is an overpowering stench, caused by the heat, the absence of a toilet and death. There is not much space, but what space there is, is filled by a suffocating heat, a choking smell and burning grief. Pain is soaring through my veins, a toxic predator pouncing on every fibre of hope in my exhausted body. Embarrassment. They have reduced us to animals. I am embarrassed, embarrassed of my hygiene, embarrassed of my inability to do anything, embarrassed of my selfishness. Embarrassment is no worse than ****** as when a person is embarrassed they wish to be dead. It is emotional homicide. Exhaustion. I am so tired. My body is crumpled, being held up by others, some dead, some wishing to be dead. At first I was focused on surviving, my body was fighting, but now I’m too tired to fight. My hunger is now just a numb aching, but my thirst seems to be pounding every cell in my body, a constant beating. I am tired of crying, tired of praying, tired of hearing other people’s cries, tired of hearing other people’s prayers. Hope. I hear a voice, singing. A mother to her child. The sweet sound of her voice seems to dissolve the clouds of pain and misery hanging over us. Another voice joins in, a man’s voice. Two more people join in; gradually the whole carriage starts to sing, united. I join in grasping for the shreds of energy I didn’t think I had. We sing louder and louder, our voices drown out the protesting orders to stop. The train slows to a stop, and the doors slide open. I breathe, and for the first time in too long, my lungs are satisfied with the oxygen that reaches them. As our bodies rush out of the carriage, still singing, I am filled with a new sense of hope that whatever is coming next couldn’t possibly be worse than what I’d just been through. Could it?

0

Aug 17, 2018

Aug 17, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC

Are we there yet?

Panic. The final sound of the door being locked from outside. Mothers crying for children. Children crying for Mothers. Hundreds of people shoving you into corners trying to reach loved ones. A young boy falls to the floor, the mother watches him being trampled, unable to move, unable to breathe. My lungs are screaming for air. Where? Why? Fear. Stumbling into an unknown darkness. The fear of falling asleep and never waking up. Contemplating whether death is better than this. The terrifying crack of a shotgun. A silence howling with anxiety. The beating of the engine counting down minutes perfectly synchronised with my heart. The lady next to me has her eyes closed, I shake her, silently praying for her to be asleep, she doesn’t stir. Despair. I’ve lost track of time, two days, three days, a never ending eternity? Death surrounds me, trying to pull me in to envelop me, it’s so hard to fight, so easy to welcome. I am surrounded by people, but have never felt so alone. We are running on animal instincts, whatever food we have we don’t share. On this train, good morals **** Agony. The heat, the stifling heat. It is dizzying, nauseating. The air is too thick to breathe, to live. There is an overpowering stench, caused by the heat, the absence of a toilet and death. There is not much space, but what space there is, is filled by a suffocating heat, a choking smell and burning grief. Pain is soaring through my veins, a toxic predator pouncing on every fibre of hope in my exhausted body. Embarrassment. They have reduced us to animals. I am embarrassed, embarrassed of my hygiene, embarrassed of my inability to do anything, embarrassed of my selfishness. Embarrassment is no worse than ****** as when a person is embarrassed they wish to be dead. It is emotional homicide. Exhaustion. I am so tired. My body is crumpled, being held up by others, some dead, some wishing to be dead. At first I was focused on surviving, my body was fighting, but now I’m too tired to fight. My hunger is now just a numb aching, but my thirst seems to be pounding every cell in my body, a constant beating. I am tired of crying, tired of praying, tired of hearing other people’s cries, tired of hearing other people’s prayers. Hope. I hear a voice, singing. A mother to her child. The sweet sound of her voice seems to dissolve the clouds of pain and misery hanging over us. Another voice joins in, a man’s voice. Two more people join in; gradually the whole carriage starts to sing, united. I join in grasping for the shreds of energy I didn’t think I had. We sing louder and louder, our voices drown out the protesting orders to stop. The train slows to a stop, and the doors slide open. I breathe, and for the first time in too long, my lungs are satisfied with the oxygen that reaches them. As our bodies rush out of the carriage, still singing, I am filled with a new sense of hope that whatever is coming next couldn’t possibly be worse than what I’d just been through. Could it?

50

"She suffers with depression". What do you see right now? In your mind's eye? I know what you see. You see a pale, skinny but beautiful girl curled up in their bed all sad and crying into the arms of a parent/lover/friend. Let me tell you something. That's not what it looks like. Depression is not romantic. That girl hasn't showered for three days. Her room smells. Her hair is greasy and unkempt. She isn't crying. She's binge eating while watching TV episodes into the night.

0

Aug 17, 2018

Aug 17, 2018 at 12:14 PM UTC

I know what you see.

"She suffers with depression". What do you see right now? In your mind's eye? I know what you see. You see a pale, skinny but beautiful girl curled up in their bed all sad and crying into the arms of a parent/lover/friend. Let me tell you something. That's not what it looks like. Depression is not romantic. That girl hasn't showered for three days. Her room smells. Her hair is greasy and unkempt. She isn't crying. She's binge eating while watching TV episodes into the night.

9

so soft from afar icy droplets within frozen suspended but so soft from afar covering the sky how can water be so opaque? dark ominous covering the clear blue sky above sometimes ropes sometimes blankets sometimes hills sometimes ******* these droplets of water defy gravity withstand wind and sun they give me hope

0

Aug 17, 2018

Aug 17, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC

clouds

so soft from afar icy droplets within frozen suspended but so soft from afar covering the sky how can water be so opaque? dark ominous covering the clear blue sky above sometimes ropes sometimes blankets sometimes hills sometimes ******* these droplets of water defy gravity withstand wind and sun they give me hope

15

"Hey, I heard about your dad, hope everything is ok?" It's not ok. Of course it's not ok. Nothing is ok. My dad is lying in isolation in intensive care. Although he doesn't look like my dad anymore. He's so ill, even my uncle who's a doctor is crying. I'm scared for him. I miss him. Even when he awake he's not really there because he's so confused. I miss my dad. I want him back. He's not ok. I have to get my work done otherwise I'll fail my course. But I can't do it. I can't say this to anyone. I just can't open up because I'm scared I'll be seen differently. That's not ok. Everything is out of control. That's not ok. So I'm controlling my food and my weight. But it's so stressful. I want everything to stop. I want everything to be ok. "Yeh it's all good thanks, how are you?"

0

Aug 17, 2018

Aug 17, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC

OK

"Hey, I heard about your dad, hope everything is ok?" It's not ok. Of course it's not ok. Nothing is ok. My dad is lying in isolation in intensive care. Although he doesn't look like my dad anymore. He's so ill, even my uncle who's a doctor is crying. I'm scared for him. I miss him. Even when he awake he's not really there because he's so confused. I miss my dad. I want him back. He's not ok. I have to get my work done otherwise I'll fail my course. But I can't do it. I can't say this to anyone. I just can't open up because I'm scared I'll be seen differently. That's not ok. Everything is out of control. That's not ok. So I'm controlling my food and my weight. But it's so stressful. I want everything to stop. I want everything to be ok. "Yeh it's all good thanks, how are you?"

25