It is very simple but powerful and inspiring word could be a "Zinet", the shortest new genre named in the second decade of 21st century.
there is beauty in
when we slow down
amidst the hustle and bustle
and let ourselves
get lost in the vastness of the sky,
wonder aimlessly like
dandelion heads in the wind, then
get drunk on waves of nostalgia
while we ponder where our
dreams floated off to,
yet remembering again
to flow with time—not fight it,
for it is when we live in the present
that we see what we already have
is more than enough and
it is only through a grateful heart
that we can make the most out of
this beautiful mess
When I first saw you,
I wouldn't have known
That the one I was seeing is worth more than gold
And as you strolled into that room
That I was watching my dreams all made true
Yours was like the first sunlight of Spring
That banishes the frost so the flowers can sing
And though my heart was once covered in ice
I now feel warm and happy and nice
I wrote this for you, to help you see
The magnitude of who you are to me
And though for a time I have to depart
I will love you forever, with all of my heart
My mind blanked at that very moment
We've been in this journey for 6 years
And I know someday it's going to end
But your sudden departure made me realised
That it is never easy to let go
Of the things you love the most
On that rainy midnight
I left with a deep sigh
Putting my phone away as I silently said
Such a nice book, thank you for everything
I really don't know how to handle these kind of situations every time i finish reading books or updates of a good novels
cherry season settled upon us and
I was not prepared for it this year
dark and unyielding, yet certainly
abound with the flow of sweetness
coldly withheld from my parents
mere decades ago, a foreign couple with a small child struggling with words not of their native tongue
seeking peace in evening walks, we
stumbled upon a hidden cherry tree
yielding **** little fruit, warm yellow
tinged with red and peculiar hope
the world felt smaller then —
I only recall the familiarity of home
of fully embracing Nature's offerings
found on the path revealed only to us
Good day, Happy Eyes!
I'm always happy to be with you, it's funny
If I am drunk, I'll start thinking that you are a bunny
Don't mind the nonsense, I'm still finding the words
To say it simply that I'm thankful you are here
You were there, I wasn't looking for I was in fear
Problems in life can't be swept away with a bottle of beer
But you came in a sweet cinnamon summer time
Suddenly, I felt the warmth in December-cold June
I can never thank you enough, but thank you anyway.
You're my night,
You're my day,
You're my strength,
You're my life.
For those rare moments,
I thank you!
I thank you...
For singing our song,
When I couldn't remember the words;
For crying with me,
When I'm hurt.
I thank you...
For wiping away my tears,
When I just didn't want to;
For rejoicing with me,
When I'm happy!
I thank you...
For being there,
When I have no one to turn to;
For showing me you care,
When the world around me is not!
You're my joy,
You're my pain,
You're my song,
You're my love.
And for those rare moments,
I thank you!
Stick my phone into the wall--
hoping no one trips on the cord.
No mobile phones in this dark age
and computers haven't come of age.
My TV has cable but the picture's curved.
Static makes it look so old
and my frozen dinner's gotten cold!
I shut it off and think: at least
I've got a huge stereo
with a dual tape deck.
Listening to New Wave
is much better than televised dreck.
Maybe someday they'll make it digital
but it won't be quite the same.
I'm as happy as a person can reasonably be
in the year 1983.
A kind of fond, snarky memory of times past...
Do you know how it feels?
What it feels like to be more than 6 feet under?
Being so far under, you would think that thunder would never occur.
A feeling so bad, that it suffocates you.
Shocks you, completely liberates you.
Your screams never fill the air, only your mind to keep you occupied.
People think you're to quiet, when really everything irritates you.
Everything becomes heightened for someone so far down.
The voices you hear, the random smells, people walking and you think they have their eyes upon you.
But they don't...
Remember; you're more than 6 feet under?
Believing the dirt surrounding you is the only friend you have.
It keeps you warm and absorbs your tears.
It has been keeping you alive...
You can't see it, except for others.
There are flowers sitting right on top of your grave.
No one put them there, except for you.
Because the ground absorbed you and your tears.
This is its way of showing gratitude.
No one can pick them up, except for you.
At the end of the day, you are the only person who can make yourself change and build yourself back up.
A word like no other.
The world next to a mother
No matter how far away I go,
She always has me tethered
To my roots, my culture. I never forget
That horrendous day we met.
A wee babby in his uniform, parrying
Away at first sight.
You carved every inch of a masterpiece
Which grew ever thankful to you.
Though never chanted,
Your sobriquet remains holy in mine heart.
Shall God bless you
And life bequeath its bliss
For you, are a soul…
Crafted to craft.
This intriguing poem written by MARS explains the unconditional bond between a good teacher and a student. A teacher plays a major role in every individual's life and is considered as one next to a mother. She teaches through all her difficulties and sows light into every student, ultimately crafting them into a masterpiece. This vivid detail is brought out to the reader's eyes by MARS.