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What am I to do when something makes you yell
     making you seem mad?
How am I to feel when you say "it's ok"
     making your mood hard to tell?
Should I be sorry for something I may not have done?
     *this everyday confusion keeps going on  and on...
Today you grow older,
Though it may not seem
And I'll try to sing a song to you
but phone conversations aren't my sort of thing.
Dad I love you beyond words and I just pray
that prayers, love, and kindness,
surround you on this special birthday.

Wish I were there to celebrate with you!
xoxo
in this thing called history,
something kind of represents our story
     we were slaves of love
     down, warm in the south
keeping heat; getting beat
being worn out
and when I heard those words
slip out of your mouth,
we went to war
*just like the north and south
I think it's funny
when people's lives kinda fall apart;
when people believe their awful jokes are funny;
when couples break one another's heart;
when all people see is a sky that's sunny.
Especially when they believe big dreams come just like that.
I hate when they lie.
Oh come on;
**I think it's funny; I'm just like that.
This isn't true by the way.
Anything I can do to make you stay
I'm seeing myself when looking up at you.
I know I see in black and white,
so will you paint me a bright blue sky?
Without you I become colorblind
seeing grey drops of rain everytime I open my eyes.

*i need you to color me blue.
Edited version :)
“Sundar means beautiful,” the natives write—
The mangroves of south dance beneath daylight
With the flair of a gypsy drunk and bold
Swirling her skirt of salt. And callous gold
Prowls the swamp after trotting prey in flight.

The sentinels of south guard through the night
And push and pull against the windy might;
Behind their sieving shields, beliefs still hold—
Sundar means beautiful.

The men of south venture without invite
For honey, wood and fish into the plight;
The wives, like fortune, wait at the threshold
Praying and cursing gods foreign or old
As sleepless children scramble to recite—
Sundar means beautiful.
Form: Rondeau
Sundarbans ( Literal Translation: Beautiful Forest) is a mangrove forest on the delta formed by the super confluence of the Ganges, Padma, Brahmaputra and Meghna rivers across southern Bangladesh and Bengal. It's a swamp land that belongs to tigers, crocodiles and well, millions of people who live there and earn their livelihood from the forest. The environmental importance of Sundarbans is colossal as the mangroves protect the coastal areas from erosion, surge storms and tsunamis. In my opinion, without the forest, the human history of this region would have been a completely different one.
I stumbled upon a memory tonight
a memory I've pushed back; but right now I might
bring it back to surface and remember the heart ache
the event that caused eyes to
"water"
and my body to shake.
The question I ask now, however is
"How to feel?"
How can I feel during this remembering?
The part that keeps me going, remembering;
listen close,
*a flower will perish and a new one will grow.
Word doodling ;)
In the Undivided Poetry
these Simple Writings
Are Undefined Sightings
Haiku
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