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Bragi 3h
In the sea
There is a tree
It’s roots they stretch a thousand leagues
It’s branches reach up oh so high
They go so far as to touch the sky

The tree was said never to be named.
For centuries, deliberately some would say,
it kept all people in the world at bay
But the gods had promised there to be a day
The most deserving of children would find a way
And climb the tree to find treasures array
..if only one monster the youth could slay.

In a sadly lit room a little girl cried.
The ring she had given her before she had died
was all that was left of the happy past life
Her mother had spent with her there by her side.
Her mother long gone and the ring not in sight,
The little girl wailed but would sneak out that night.

She knew where it was, her cruel aunt had thrown it;
‘Come now’ she said ‘I think you’ve outgrown this’.
It fell at a place where all were forbid,
under sea waves was where it now hid.

She found the place
She made no mistake.
Before jumping in the little girl braced
A rush of water had hit her face
A brand new feeling she had to intake
But the water now returned a warming embrace.
It helped the girl and showed her the way.

She must have been swimming for more than nine hours
Her legs were so tired, but she was no coward.
She could see shapes ahead, she screamed and she shouted
But no one replied, no alarm had been sounded.
So the little girl swam... and soon she was grounded.

The shapes were giant roots, bigger than buildings
Huge, unbelievable, bewildering, tall things
Then she realised, on one was she standing
And when she looked up, she noticed she was climbing.
At the top, she knew, she felt a strange feeling,
The ring would be there, she could see it, waiting.

She reached the top
Her heart had stopped
A golden garden with birdsong, soft.
The gardens heart held a door, locked.
But the way to the key appeared to be blocked.
Blocked by a horrible, familiar aunt.

The aunt ran at the girl, in big scary strides
But the girl was not afraid, no more would she hide.
She stood on the edge, her heart as her guide.
And waited for the moment they both would collide...

Off the edge they fell
The girl said ‘farewell,
To my mum where all is well’.
She closed her eyes as the demon aunt yelled.
At then at that moment her mum’s voice broke the spell
‘One more push to be happy, one more my big girl’.

She opened her eyes and felt the wind rush
She kicked off the aunt with one final push.
The girl only just missed one of the trees roots.
The monster was slain, you could hear the yells hush.
The girl landed safely in the waters warm touch.
And now a small key in her hands did she clutch.

She climbed once more
And unlocked the door
Where beyond was lain the most wonderous of hordes
Treasures beyond what all life has explored.
But the little girl walk on so swiftly past it all
Until she had found what her heart was there looking for.

The Gods came down and congratulated her
‘But you must take more! It is what you have earned!
You completed this feat, you should take what’s deserved!’
But the girl just smiled and with this thank you she turned

I just want the ring
And memories to keep
Of my mother always.
To help me to sleep.
You Gods are kind
But my mother you can’t give
So let me go home with this most precious of gifts.

And with that
the girl found herself back
In a dimly lit room with a ring in her hand.
But in the morning when she got up to stand
She found herself smiling at a rather strange sound.
It wasn’t her aunt yelling, or screaming a demand,
But asking if she liked yolks runny
or if she preferred them when hard...
So many changes
But I must go with the flow
And be like a snail
Hey dear lady, what are u caring in that big suitcase?
Hey little child, I am caring some pain.
Oh, I thought it was full of candies and toys for me to play.
No little kid. There's no candies inside.
Hey lady with the pain, can you tell me what pain is?
Hey little kid. Pain is something that makes big people like me feel little like kids like you.
Is this what everyone is caring inside their suitcases when going to work?
Mostly yes..
Oh, ok then. Thanks lady with the pain. I hope your pain is not too heavy so I can still see you around caring the suitcase.
Ok child, goodbye..
I found a way for us all to be together
Be my brother words of a feather

Together we can bring upon triumph
Together we bought together

To bring upon triumph
Words bought together

Can we as people not bring upon what we are
People that come from a sacred race

That built us a shrine
Together forever to remember the divine

Can we have our children taught
So violence is not made whatever

Can we bring upon the future
To bring us another creature feature

Creature were brought to serve human beings
Although they never should be slaughtered

To bring us things
They keep the lonely company

Just to bring upon
Whatever lifesaver forgot

Animals have not sent us to the grave
To settle what is empty

To give us invincible might
What has brought us together by slight

Can we teach our children to be wild and free
So we can settle together human races economy

We have pressing issues
Can make us cry to give us tissues

We mend as brothers
To mend one another
On one edge sat my father, in his white vest and messy hair,
On the other was my mother, with a frown and a stare,
When these words came out from her without any hesitation, not even slight,
‘Go ahead, Aman, you can commit suicide.’
All I kept wanting was my little sister to never know about ****,
When they said, ‘We can go through that pain as well.’
An Adult in all da flair
And ze Child that lives in air
Have one thing uncommon

And zat is ze pressure to make few mistakes
Once zat is ze same for ze child

We have truly robbed children of zeir childhood.
13.10.2018

Being a child itself should be a sign that a lotta mistakes are in order. Once you start pressurizing not to make them too much, congratulations, you loser.
(Tried a little fake French accent. I like ze fake accents!!)
When your child’s feeling ill
His body hot, maybe a chill
Hold him in your arms real tight
Love him till you make it right

Our children are our own creation
made from love and procreation
teach them what is right and wrong
and how to sing that special song

When our child is feeling sad
When things all seem so very bad
We wrap our arms around real tight
Don’t be sad my little man,
and tell them all will be alright

When childhood is left behind
Our pride is something undenied
All the years we loved and cared
and all the lovely times we shared

There’s nothing more so precious
than love we cannot hide
There’s nothing more so precious
than that thing called Mothers Pride
leyla 6d
VCR
a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort
from your ******* pour narcotics and arsenic solution
tasting battery acid reminds me not to think about it
flies mistake us for dead while we're sleeping
they count down the seconds blood takes to coagulate
your warm ***** sinks into my chest and it soothes me
sepsis and ****** help you with your bellyaches
we jammed dog **** in mom's vcr
we jammed dog **** in mom's vcr
we jammed dog **** in mom's vcr
we jammed dog **** in mom's vcr
???????????
my son shall be a reflection of me with the mirror being his mother. he will have my eyes and his mothers heart, my brains but his mothers demeanor. we all know he’ll need it. the courage will come from us both because your mother is a warrior as am i. we fight. never let them see you down son, if you fall remember: gravity centers lowest to the ground, you shall gather yourself up and stand strong. and when the waves come crashing because they will, when they crash just know that you are a warrior. there is no mountain big enough in comparison to your potential, no storm loud enough to quite your spirit and no accolade too great to make you gloat. my son, you were made under the shield of love, so you shall forever be protected. never let anyone tell you otherwise. when you see a man down keep your arms outstretched, warriors can fight for the less fortunate too, but stand proudly in your body. and when they ask why you are who you are you simply respond: I am a reflection of my father in the mirror of my mother.
From my 2016 Poetry Collection: The Writers Room (Available on Amazon/Barnes&Noble)
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