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I'm an unknown book on a shelf
That one forgets to treat with care
Passed around among many people,
Alas! I've aged with wear and tear.

I don't recall to whom I belonged
Who once penned my words in fading ink
I'm not as strong as I used to be
I'm only a novel- I can't think.

I'm looking for a gentle owner
Who enjoys reading without pretense,
Keeping me safe, worn pages intact,
The one who'll cherish my existence.
What does the Quran say, to love,
but not to hate,
the people come on earth according to his will,
no one has the right to make them pay,
for their sins.
self destruction, mass collapse, this is not what Quran teaches us, it teaches us to love,
but not to hate,
the path taken by one, cannot define a group,
as all they want is peace, i know we want too.
a man goes so deep trying to achieve his Allah,
so unknowingly he becomes blind in his path,
and creates a deadly scar,
Quran doesnt teach us that,
i say Quran is in everyone's heart and in brain,
as for it teaches us to love but not to hate.
so i am not a muslim! but first of all i am a human!so i dedicate this poem to all my muslim bros and sis on this day of EID and hope that you all have a prosperous life ahead. Happy Eid! and yeah i have made an insta acc biohazard_poems  i will often post poems! do support and follow!
Debbie Stevens Oct 2017
All my life I was lost and clueless,
growing up with no filter and foolishness.
With no family to love and care for me,
I don't know how they could leave and betray me.

No eyes focused on me because of my low I.Q,
my life has changed because of the help from a few.
With scientists helping me to become smart,
I am now realizing my life from the start.

All hopes come crashing down,
I'm going back to looking like a clown.
It was great while it lasted,
all I want to say is don't take life for granted.
I wrote this poem in relation to the book "Flowers for Algernon" as an assignment for my english class.
Nina 6d
i'll write a book
about my life with you
the things i loved
from A to Z
i'll write about you
about the time
you lit my life up
the times
you gave me butterflies
and at the end of the book
i'll write about the time
you broke my heart
and
turned me into an author
My love is misunderstood
Like a book that has never been read
Yet still kept on shelf
With a layer of passion dust
Blue Poem, Blue Secret

By the celestial lights of heaven as i walked on the leaves of my notebook, i see my wishes of how i want to shoe and how to walk without fear by the same brands of my feet for this blue book of awakening, on collisioning by dreams of me self-book book, where i can read me in peace without pointing out the perfection of the magnanimus know, think and reflect.

After cutting a piece of cake and taking it with my hand, i could be looking for sowing it and not have anxiety of the desire of excitement more than sugging in my fingers to take the next snack. it is that i will begin with this extract of a secret book dipped with almibar light at the ends of the blue enchanted forest …

I woke up early with the leaves on my shoulders and my mouth painted blue. mark the same footprints when i first started taking my first steps as a child. travel to prague on a sunny sunday when the clouds degraded other shades making you think of drinking and eating the delights of the prague forest. i always felt that the secrets of the footsteps of the leaves and their secrets walked through the forests of southern chile. to supraculture forestry and vegetatively reuphols its soils. The owners of the forest and princes of the bushes travel large areas to complement the soils of southern chile. full volcanic formica goal and indigenous species will bring the morning mists to paint the forests blue in blue in the first of the areas , acquired three years ago, small deciduous trees already appear among the conifers: beech, ash and maples that grew from seeds brought by the wind. the nascent native forest is also more joyous because its variety attracts birds.

Trees grow slowly and that is why generations to come will fully enjoy the native preservation forests that are beginning to emerge in the czech republic. ****** forest of boubín, the current ecological activists had in the 19th century a predecessor: the forester josef john. thanks to his initiative, the best-known ****** forest in bohemia has been conserved, that of boubín, which extends on the southern ***** of the mountain of the same name, located in the sierra de sumava, in the south-west of the czech republic.

I have risen from the inn in boubin, leaving my blue marks and exuding magenta airs of the tinting of the roofs and monuments that are dressed by these organic fabrics of the great avenues. i walked with my trembling hands to leaf through the opening ****** texts of my review of a great secret that marks the vision of the forest and its literary benefactor.

to be continued...
Main beggining
Maria Mitea May 17
I feel
the burn in my chest,
as the sunny dream chops its edges.
I run “happy” warming up in “ La vita è bella, ”
while the soles of my feet are burning
into the dark earth. Who cares? only
into the dark earth roots grow,
all lilac is still there at the Moscow Metro, while
illusion succumbs to temptation running faster and
Harder,
the underworld has a life of its own,
a life of greater depth and purity, while
my eyes touch the cold striking murals, and
the book falls on the
Whisper
"The book.." is all knowledge we humans created and possess, and that still doesn't answer our big questions.                                                            
"Whisper" is the invisible reality;  that which is present but overlooked, obvious but not seen with an opened eye, the mystic, the soul, the spirit, inspiration, imagination, desire, passion, inner drive, ...
Charu Sally May 12
𝙸  𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 ;
𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚢,
𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜,
𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 ; 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 ,
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝,
𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚡𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 , 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 ;
𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 ,
𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝,
𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚏,
𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 ;  
𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 , 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛;
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 & 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 ,
𝙲𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜  , 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 ;
𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸’𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 ;
𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 ,  𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 .
I wish for once I was his favourite thing that he would fear to lose , you know when you desire to be their last and forever kind of thing  but I guess sometimes that’s not the plan and people move on . The sad truth .
Maria Mitea May 10
the underworld
movement
makes me feel utterly incapable, and grown
feet condense into droplets of freezing blood, as I wait at
Dostoevskaya station, where
the intimidating marble has a soul of its own.

I Look
into the deep earth and I have eyes and I have depth, and
I have speed, as I am earth moving through earth
from all perspectives,
apparently, I think and I know, but
how do I reach there? at Prospect Mira
I asked
auntie Liudmila,
while she was selling sunflowers at
the Lyublinsko station, while
I was running to catch up my breath beyond
the boundaries in which has been conceived,
while the worldly murals violate the norms and  “The Idiot” reaches greatness on the Moscow walls. Silhouettes wrestling on a mortal terrain; his umbra, my umbra. Whose and which, and when? I simplify it down to the breath and keep running.
What a rush?

when the geometry of "sombra"
seems to have a life of its own on the world's marmoring walls.
the underworld seems so close to my eyes, and
annoyance takes shape above
believing
it is more intelligent than
I, who can see the train coming,
uncertainty won’t
bother impotence resting on earth’s shoulders, and
Sleeping Giant can wait forever for the lost sailor.
What a blessing!

just checking in as
madness and earth are shaking,
while the sun rises in Thunder Bay, and
the trucks at the Moscow subway take speed, all
I need is a piece of earth under my feet.
How Much?

the blanket hugs Earth's chest, and
steps move holding a bouquet of sunflowers while
gazing like a thief, whose big eyes are
rolling on the ground, “don’t you see how steps flow with
Parisian prudence, I am brave and happy on top of Your Eiffel.”  When?  
the eyes become wizards of clouds, and
“I”- Rest in wonder.
How Long?

I feel
the burn in my chest,
as the sunny dream chops its edges.
I run “happy” warming up in “ La vita è bella, ”
while the soles of my feet are burning
into the dark earth. Who cares? only
into the dark earth roots grow,
all lilac is still there at the Moscow Metro, while
illusion succumbs to temptation running faster and
Harder,
the underworld has a life of its own,
a life of greater depth and purity, while
my eyes touch the cold striking murals, and
the book falls on the
Whisper

not again,
I thought you settled the matter of
unattainable, while lilac was waiting, on my way,
eating the cherry gem with
the spoon touching Earth's lips, and only
auntie Liudmila is content for selling every
sunflower while Earth’s warm darkness hugs the blanket, and
her glowing eyes soothe in hypnotizing beauty at
the Moscow Subway,
I let it be!
Dostoevskaya is a Moscow Subway station. The station walls contain murals/ illustrations of Fyodor Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, along with many other scenes (including illustrations of The Idiot). Prospect Mira (Peace) is a large open road, central to a big city.  "The book.." is all knowledge we humans created and possess, and that does not answer our big questions."Whisper" is the invisible reality; the essence, the mystic, the soul, the spirit, ...
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