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Ashwin Kumar Apr 2022
Expectation destroys everything
All of you should know that
After all, I am a human being
Not an AI-programmed robot
How much can I manage at a time?
You expect me to work
And aggressively at that
Handling five mandates at a time
When you very well know
That even three is not a walk in the park
You expect me to exercise
When I barely have time to complete my work
And on top of that
You expect me to eat
You expect me to drink
And you expect me to sleep
Like every other human being
Do you even hear yourself?

Expectation destroys everything
What do you get
When you expect too much from people?
Do you really want that?
I repeat, I am a human being
Not an AI-programmed robot
Put yourself in my shoes
And see if you can achieve
What you're expecting me to achieve
Of course, you love to say
That I need to be flexible
Well, I certainly do my best
But you need to know
That, sometimes, even your best is not enough
When you're up against time
Because time is not flexible
And will never be

Expectation destroys everything
I hope you will realise this some day
Because, if you don't
Then it will be your loss, not mine
Until then, here's to expecting
And getting disappointed
Hammad Dec 2020
in the green meadows,
A young twig asked
What happens to those
who do not bend?
They break apart
- A Willow tree replied.
Tom Atkins Apr 2020
The house is built
on posts and beams.

Thick, hand-hewn posts of local cedar,
the beams as big crossing space,
held together by a single peg
since the early nineteenth century.

You’d not know it’s age to look at it.
Windows have been replaced.
Walls torn asunder and replaced.
There is plaster and electricity,
all the modern conveniences.

But in the end,
it is post and beam.
Incredibly, solidly constructed
in such a way that space is spanned
and everything between and underneath
can be ripped out and replaced,
renewed and reworked,
becoming new again
without losing its strength.
My house is a post and beam house, built, according to the deed, around 1800. It was redone at least twice, in the 1920s and the fifties or sixties. When I bought it, it was a duplex, and the first thing I did, 24 hours after moving in, was knock out walls to make it a single home. In theory, I could rip every wall out and rebuild from scratch. I could, but I won’t. I like what it is.

I have an affinity for old homes, and post and beam construction in general. So strong, and yet so full of possibilities. It’s what I want my life to be.
Tom Atkins Feb 2020
It is a room of chairs.
Their thin spindles let the light through,
visually almost invisible,
easy to move about the room,
to reconfigure as people come and go,
with no sense of mass or weight,
always room for one more, one less,
a different sort of life,
one that allows for constant change,
ebb and flow,
never too much,
never too little,
a shape-shifting goldilocks kind of room.

You feel strangely at home here,
an older version of Alice in Wonderland,
never quite yourself,
never quite what others expect,
never quite fitting in,
at least not in the way you expected.
The world has not made room for you.
You are tolerated
as long as you re-arrange your furniture
in the proper way
in the proper time.

Your eyes soak in the room,
so airy and bright,
and settle into a chair.
There is no one here but you
and the woman you love,
and it matters not where the chairs are
as long as there are two together.
On my poetry blog, this poem is illustrated by a photograph taken at the Thomas Nelson House in Yorktown, Virginia, I love the colonial simplicity of the room, the lightness, and easy reconfiguration a room full of chairs offers. The fact that they are Windsor chairs, one of my passions, makes it even more wonderful.

My wife and I were talking this morning. We had company last night and ended up going to bed without the broad stretch of time talking that is part of our day to day life. We both felt the loss of that time, a disconnectedness that is uncommon to us and to our relationship.

From those two things, this poem.
Taylor St Onge Nov 2018
I am not very good at saying no to people,
                              or at being firm and direct with my patients at work.  
           I am soft and mandible.  
           I tend to let people take advantage of me.  

My physical therapist says the people with the most problems
with their hips and backs are
                                                        the ones that can          
                                                        hardly bend at all or
                                                                                                 that can
                                       bend              too             much.

I am too flexible.  
                              So much so that it is hurting me.  
                                    I fold and I fold and I fold
                                               in on myself like origami and
                                      I let people do whatever they want.  
I can't remember if I've always been this way or not.  

Maybe it depends on how you look at it:  
The woman in the casket could either be sleeping or dead.  She could either be a stranger or my mother.  This could either be the bright, multi-color, kaleidoscopic shapes I see when I rub my eyes a bit too hard for a bit too long, or it could be the dull, grey morgue her body was wheeled down to after they tied the tag around her toe and zipped her into a white bag.  This could either hurt a lot or a little.  It depends on how much you let in.  How willing you are to bend to the emotional blow.  I could either stop writing about this or keep going, but it's been, what, nine years now, and I haven't been able to stop yet—
only able to bend and
                 ­                                      and
this took way too long to finish
PsycheSpeaks Aug 2018
I feel the cool breeze
dance across my shoulders
and wisp through my hair
welcome at first-
sending a shiver down my spine
not unwanted, but shocking

A break from the saturated heat
nature plays a joke on us all
keeping us on our toes
and flexible to change-
a good lesson to be learned
the lovely winter in June
the turns of life
are many

few of them
we have foreseen or planned

yet somehow we have managed
to survive

to tell a tale
of useful flexibility

and luck
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
an enduring cypress
immortal knotted rings
until death
two as one
held breath

a contorted filbert
purple catkins bring to flower
deeply rooted visions
creativity, awareness, knowledge
enlightened fruition

a variegated willow
to drink up sorrow's rain
in tolerance we bend
but not to point
of breaking

three trees
foretell a future
laced with little deaths
cypress, filbert, willow
lest we should forget
Lawren Jul 2015
Flexibility is the presence of structure
In the absence of rigidity.
Like the valves in my veins
That keep my blood flowing in the
Right direction.

As limber beings we can sway and bend without snapping.
Even under intense pressure,
We are able to return to normal
When we call upon our inner strength.
Our minds, like muscles,
Must be consistently stretched and tested
To remain pliable.
Allowing us to become more accepting of ourselves and others.
The virtue of flexibility
Scientists have discoverd
the same flexibiliy in thoughts
that leads to creativity;
can also lead in some individuals
to mental illness.
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