Who understands poets like us?
We see the universe in a person
We see sadness as a plus
We see the good when times worsen

Who can understand us?

We sit back and daydream
When others would despair
We grasp the magic of the moonbeam
Our hearts awaken to the fair

Who can understand us?

We put words to the artist's soul
We write the songs of bards
To voice the immortal is our goal
Of ancient legends we are guards

Who can understand poets like us?
Who can understand our hopes, our loves, or dreams except...
Each other

If I comment
Three hearts beneath your poem
It means that
I love love love your work

Sometimes I have too much to say
Or nothing to say at all
But I love to appreciate beautiful words
Because beautiful words should be appreciated

I love when my words mean something
To you reading
And a lot of your words mean something to me too
So I put it all into these
Three little hearts

❤❤❤

Whether your poetry is from a dark place
Or from a light heart
Whether something bad happened
Or something good started
If you shared it
And I saw it
And appreciate it
You'll find three little hearts
Beside my name
Beneath your work
In a format like this -

Rahama Abdulkadri ❤❤❤.

As I stand at the window
looking into the blue sky
dreaming of another time
where laughter freely flowed
I listen to the embers burning
as they cast a warm glow
My heart was hanging heavy
knowing this world of mine
Is surrounded by darkness
as far as my eyes can see
And realizing that
I had nothing to offer
for all I have to give
could never be wrapped
with a bow
Tears started
flowing down my face
My tears fresh, hot and anew
Tears of sadness
And then it came to me
not entirely nothing
a smile begins to creep
across my face once more
Nothing could compare
to the the joy and excitement
that rises within me
My strength increases
the longer I started to realized
I could give them my all
I’ll give them all I have
The true love and joy I feel
forevermore they are
the true gifts to me
that I know is real
I’ll give them my love

I watch them wheel on down the hall
then come back up,
prepared to fall
back into the daily grind.....
God I wish that they could find

Some way out
or some way in.
Some way to get back home again.

Wilma sits there by the door.
She's waiting
as she's done before
so many times, so many days
and there are just a few small ways

that I can help
to give her hope,
or simply find a way to cope.

Ellen calls me by my name.
Which makes no sense
for it's the same.
Every afternoon at three,
I'm not who I seem to be.

I wish I were.
For maybe then
I could bring them home again.

Grinning wide by the riverside
two bubbly girls click shots
between them whisper confide
share the secret thoughts!

The giggly cutes they walk like dance
caught in a sunlit pause
not mind the boys stealing glance
seems not worth a cause!

Their cells follow where they go
the lens beamed right on face
one more please and then one more
frames add up happiness!

I was watching the sun go down
pretty much in a fix
light was getting dullish brown
would turn darkish by six!

The urge was great surged the will
it grabbed the whole of mind
to have a photo me standing still
with the river flowing behind!

The butterfly girls in the sun's last kiss
they readily said o yes
each of them took a shot apiece
my joy you can easily guess!