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I love you so much
that I would share my toilet
paper with you, babe

10:50 PM
12/3/20
Nature's fury they say or karmas way ,
Convergence sharp in the eye,
donning a cape of disaster with pride,
Unfurling of glistening wrath with mighty stride .
Did we see it coming or not?  
What are we doing ,
for what have we fought?
Oh! What a shame !
Stop the blame game .

Every pain that one must bear ,
for every dis-burden ,every care .
Respect every conspicuous Front liner.
Doctors, Nurses and Hospital Staff,
what a brave fight they have all put up !
Each a Daredevil facing every upheaval .

For every grief that bows the head ,
for every teardrop that is shed ,
for every hurt, every plight ,
for every lonely pain-racked night ,
Trust in God as we should ,
for everything will work-out
just good .

Change is inevitable,
forever turning life's table .
In these whirling winds that seem to grind ,
let faith be the strong bind .
Fear no more ,
learn to go with the flow .

In the catastrophic scene,
purify your souls and let courage glean .
Holding onto Hope with triumph insight ,
standing united to win this fight.
Dwell in hope through thick and thin ,
Victory will prevail and we will win !

©MRUNALINI NIMBALKAR
#15.03.2020#
As the world witnesses one of the most deadliest storm in the form of coronovirus  my heart goes all out to the ones that are working on getting rid of the same . Praying for everything to get back to normalcy and while this is on , may Almighty give the strength and courage to everyone to stand United and Tall .
"NO PANIC MORE POWER " "PRECAUTION"
"RHYMING VERSE"
 Mar 2020 Emily Mitchell
niqniq
hey mister gloomy face
don't let your life go to waste
i want you to know that
there's still sunshine amidst the rain

hey miss troubled eyes
i want to see you smile
i want you to know that
there's still lovin' amidst the pain
sometimes grey is really yellow.
he is sunshine on a summer day,
giggling at knock-knock jokes
with punchlines like the wind.

and sometimes grey is really brown.
coated in the mud of puddles
that he was told not to touch
but leapt into anyways.

and sometimes grey is really green.
when he is, he asks questions
as tall as his dandelion legs
that grow taller with each day.

and sometimes grey is really red.
like the day he came into the world
screaming and all-of-the-sudden
with his middle fingers in the air.

and sometimes i am really blue.
when i look at grey, and yellow,
and brown, and green, and red
wondering how he might paint

wondering if the world will see his colors
until grey cups my tears in his hands
throws them into the air
and makes a rainbow.
 Mar 2020 Emily Mitchell
Malia
If creativity was a pond,
It would have grown stagnant by now.
The slippery moss of logic
Would have plagued the cattail of imagination
And the pond would grow murky and muddy.

Thankfully,
Creativity is like a river
Always full of life.
Things come and go,
Things are created there.
Moving water.
Never growing stagnant.
 Mar 2020 Emily Mitchell
Malia
How monumental it will be
When humanity realizes
That what is now
Won’t forever be.
Too vague?
 Mar 2020 Emily Mitchell
Malia
This room is so crowded
I barely have space to breath.
People try and chat with me
Their sound resembling a buzzing bee-
I don’t know if it’s just me-
But I still feel incomprehensibly lonely.
“ You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
That which
is easily understood
often besmirches
the very nature of truth
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