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Akta Agarwal Apr 16
We have to understand
We can't go to malls
Because this virus Which is spread all over the world is very scary
If we have to go out we have to think more than twice
We have to wear our mask and have to be wise
After coming home, sanitise and wash your hands more than twice
COVID - 19 is the name of the virus Which is playing hide and seek game with all of us
But by following the rules we can fight against this virus
And also we can keep ourselves and others safe.
We have to fight against this virus called COVID - 19
Khoi Apr 7
Fenced in
a pig in a pen
he remembered her
black eyes
couldn't take flight
he still cries
justice was served
a brave woman
never lies.
Path Humble Apr 4
”against your will were you created,
against your will were you born,
against your will do you live,
against your will will you die, and
against your will will you stand in judgment before the
King of kings, the Holy One, blessed be He.”

Rabbi Elazar HaKappar (C.170 - C.200 CE)
(Ha Kappar: the one who made and gave atonement)

<§>

in these, the years of my erosive declination,
when the noble prize, time for introspection,
once was a chore of delaying, now no longer can be off-put,
the certainties of Elazar, offer guidable satisfactions


the nighttime review, resurrecting my life, the gaps,
the untaken actions, those dream-schemes speak loudest,
memories of what should have been, are a litany of what ifs,
prosecutorial accusations of crass wastage


against my will, the charges brought,
against my will, plead guiltily my innocence,
against my will, knowingly, time’s erasure judgment,
secures my fate, all the granular cells causal dissipation


my warped willingness to be a coward,
it was my meditative, to natural be the lesser man,
choosing the safety premise, the road most oft trod,
the addition of my meager totality, willing given


Even if all these land mine/roadblocks
and summary judgements are against my will,
willingly do I confess, in all innocence, my guilt,
“if it be my will”
Sanmi Pawar Nov 2020
She stood by the door, with tear-stricken eyes;
A small-little push, and they'd be inside.
She thought of her mother, who left her all alone;
She wished for a father, who would care her like his own.
Her thoughts were broken, by the furious bangs on the door;
She begged the Lord of mercy, even if she wasn't the one wrong.
Her frail body was thrown aside, as they rushed into the room;
She closed her dead eyes, awaiting her doom.
Throughout the push and pull, she did not utter a word;
For she knew her mistake, of being born as a Girl.
Spriha Kant Oct 2020
I am not stubborn. Rather , I am
  nothing beyond a soul who can't
  dare to rebel against her own inner    
  voice.
Chris Slade Aug 2020
Ted Slade was a Communist, an Atheist,
a Realist, a Pragmatist. All the ‘ists’…
Even as you’d see from his poetry…. a perfectionist.!
So, right to be bitter now and then,
about how the so called maker made him.
I’m right there with him on that.

How can there be a superior being… The Big ‘G’
The creator of all things living and breathing
when, he dished out the proletariat’s grand life plans…
The stoop, the damaged flesh, retracted blood and bone,
the twisted hands.

After he’d fixed the sun,
the moon and the stars
and the creatures of the sea,
he made man in his image… his own
the likes of you and me.
But Ted picked up a duff one,
an already beaten body.
Spine twisted, lungs restricted.
Unfit for purpose - ****** up.

Like a life jacket with a puncture
If he had jumped overboard with it
he would have drowned.
He’d picked up the parcel in the warehouse
that had already hit the ground.
One that shouldn’t have made it beyond quality control.
If he’d had a hand in a design that was plainly odd
he would have chosen the super deluxe model for his starring role
So he just ignored everybody else’s God
Just got on with the job…
And as such, scored an even more brilliant goal!
This is about my cousin Ted from Hull ... who, at about the age of 6, was diagnosed with severe Kyphoscoliosis - a complex curvature of the spine ... So he didn't believe in God. Ted still, without formal education till the age 12, was accepted at university at 15 ... Bsc Hons. Metalurgist, Marketeer, Internet Wiz, Programmer, and Latterly, of course, a Poet. As you do!! Ted Slade: 1936 - 2004.
Words' Worth Jul 2020
I don't know why the garden behind a lulled neighbourhood
Reminds me of the forgiving past
When, I jotted my thoughts from the start
As a pale boy

Understanding the road of violence taken
Many ideals ceased to exist until poetry came
Maybe, because of white privilege
But, the Bible is all we had for freedom

Now that black lives matter, thorns stub your head
As the nail impairs the prolonged hammer
We write for a culled audience
Dealing with prejudice, with our hands tied

Things are not black and white anymore than before
It is my duty to see the color
Life is more than warm and white color
Like blooming flowers grasping their innocence

Life is a beautiful wonderment
It isn't born of acceptance
A dirge-like procession always carries on
Yet, indelible writings are on the wall
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
The belt which holds your pants up,
The same belt holds my head high.
The game which you play at night,
The same game I deny.
The heels which I wear,
from them beware.
The make-up in my bag,
Is yet another instrument hiding my despair.
The smiles with which you greet me,
One day I will turn the tables Around.
Maybe today i ain't doing it,
But it doesn't mean that I wouldn't do it ever.
The day will come nd it will come soon.
Maybe you do not acknowledge me today,
But remember my day will come too.
It isn't only about what you did to me,
But what you did to hundreds out there.
Maybe it isn't daily that we speak up,
But the day we do can put behind the bars thousands of you.
(This poem is a message from a **** survivor to her rapists)
Kawsu Sanneh Mar 2020
Tell them, let them to vanish
I mean those cruel vampires
I am referring to them, the crisps,
The evils to our lyrics to perish

Free us, free us from your satanic shores
Let us life, let us be happy but not sores
Let streams flows through our pores
Let our dreams be fulfil at the highest scores

Let those Vampires vanish from our government
From their unruly atitude, where all flaws farment
Where their deathly games begins. Where corruption
wine and wallows within our administration

Refer them to the scribbling scripts of the land
Lay it, Spread it, Open it and read it before them
Even if they resist, Do not desists to grab them
Led them to the truth. Tell them that change, we demand.

What did they wants from us, which they not been
Awarded. When they hoared loudly for votes
We gave them. We paid them through taxes. We have seen
Them brutally burning our fleets of vehicles.

We shall never needs "rocket scientist" to led us
And we don't sense of elegance. Where humours
Hide with hedonic faith. Where they thought we are
Sleeping. Until I task champion to read us "Sleep no more"

From an enigmatic society, where our soul have bee laid
To survive. We shall never slacken our ink. We have paid
Them as servants. How could we surrender our armour
When our only blood vessels were been torn in every hour.

Until then we will never relax to advocate
We can't fold flawless flanges to suffocate
We stand for change. An immediate change
Where we shall all sleep in pleasant peace
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