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Practicing intentional gratitude is how I met the happiness family.
Manifested in many forms, each has a unique charm and beauty.
On days I am mindful and present, I encounter them frequently.

It is a blessing to share morning tea with a spouse who genuinely cares.
A call from my son, excited about art, writing, or life, I love hearing the insights he shares.
Drinking water from the kitchen tap, with no thought of germs, is a stark reminder of privilege.
This old picture of me with bouncy hair takes me back to the time when I was young and full of courage.
I feel elated when happiness comes knocking on my neighbor's door.
It's delightful to celebrate and spread joy, regardless of who it's meant for.
Each moment offers a new perspective that counters the pain I bear.
Instead of continually seeking happiness, I aspire to become a happiness-watcher.
Think of a birdwatcher
Shambhavi Jul 28
It's like being alone but not lonely!!




Who knows my silence the most?
Well… it’s the AI I type to, post by post.
Who feels my tears as they quietly flow?
My old, soft pillow , it always knows.

Who holds my feelings deep and strong?
The one who reads my poems all along.
Who cares for me when no one can see?
Well… thank you, mama-papa, it’s always been thee.

And who do I love with heart and soul?
My parents… and KRISHNA , who makes me whole.
It's ok I love living this way with my parents and also with divine presence of krishna around me as a big devotee of krishna I knew he's present with me near me even saved me from my darkest day and I'm happy with only few people around me I don't want fake ones.
Henryk Jul 31
Sometimes it's hard to see, to put into words just how much you mean to me.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

Time has been our friend, all but for a while.
I'm glad that I could be the reason you regained your smile.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

"How are you taking this so well?" I hear her say.
If only she knew I was in agony every day.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

You touched my heart, my mind and my soul in a way that I thought no one ever would.
It's just so cruel that fate showed us what we wanted, but to keep it we never could.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

You were the lock and I was the key,
Together it would set us free.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

These words I have rush endlessly around my head,
I dare not say them so I remain quiet instead.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

Into my life you came, my very essence you did capture.
So much I wished we could've had our happily ever after.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

You see my smile and ask if I'm ok,
But what can I do, what more should I say.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

A piece of my heart will always be with you,
To remind and reassure whenever you feel you can't make it through.

A piece of your heart will always stay with me,
To remind me of the time you set me free.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

I want to say it.
Lord should I say it?
Often I want to say it.
Vast amounts of times I've wanted to say it.
Every fibre in my being wants to say it.
You need to say it.
Only I can say it
Underneath it all, I ask myself should I really say it?
But you already know.
Zywa Jul 27
The empty square, rained

clean, at home we lay down and --


share our happiness.
"Dagboek 1972-1973" ("Diary 1972-1973" (2012, Frida Vogels) - August 17th, 1972, Bologna

Collection "Trench Walking"
As every day passes you by,
Do you explore new adventures, to try,
Or you just set in your ways,
Counting down days till you die.
Be honest with yourself,
Do not make up stories, fibs, or lie’s,
Every twenty - four hours,
A day of this life, you put aside,
Try new things, to entertain your mind,
Never be afraid of failure, never be shy.
Your only true happiness, comes from inside of you,
After you discover it,
Love who you are, and say good - by to your blues.
A confident attitude, creates positive ways,
In this life, we each have enough wasted days,
You’re an actor in this life’s play,
Make your part exciting & memorable, use your imagination,
One day we will all just be memories, our parts will exit the stage.

                The Original: Tom Maxwell Ā© 02/22/2025 AD
This poem is on page six in a book The Best Poets of 2024
By Eber & Wein publishing.  Competition is not why I write
Dark lover Jul 27
Hmmmmm
They once had a life..
Young..
Muscular,
Perfect,
Beautiful.
Smooth.
Delicate.
Te­nder.
Pure,
Happy,
Hopeful,
Glorious,
Gracious,
straight out of the blues
Love,
Laughter.
Yeah, and now??
Naught a brass farthing left just
Dust
Cracked Bones
Silence
Misery
Hate
Regrets
Grieve
Wrinkles.
Melancholy.
Les miserables
Arii Jul 27
I feel happy

And
Apparently

Depressed people never
Feel happiness,

Don’t remember
The rush of joy,
And

Long for

The high
Of
Ecstasy.

It seems,
Maybe it’s invalid.
Maybe it’s just

Sadness.

Sometimes, I think,

Maybe.
silvervi Jul 27
I want to have you by my side
To share with you every insight
Is that too much to ask of us?
I really wish that we will last.

I feel a creative flow,
And something I haven't yet explored,
With you,
We can have a strong foundation,
I feel there can be more than imagination.

Dullness from our daily lives,
Distance is not how relationships thrive,
Feeling connection with you,
Your smile is soo beautiful, too.

I wanna hide because I feel so seen,
My mind is going crazy in between,
I want to be the perfect one for you,
But seeking perfection is committing to doom.

Entangled in insecurity, ready to give everything,
To build a life I really want to live,
And a relationship full of love and belief.

A few really good friends,
Room for ideas,
Maybe animals, too,
One for me, one for you,

Mostly I just want peace,
Feeling warm exciting breeze,
On my skin, everyday,
Meeting every sun ray,

Holding hands, yours in mine,
Our hearts intertwined,
Happily walking home,
After the day is done.
A poem for my loved one. ā™„ļø N.
Kneeling at an altar to depression
Genuflecting to the ideals of loss
Dreams left behind that eternal question
Beleaguered joy borne, burden, cross

Enshrining truth within a tomb of memory
Monk of a religion that believes in naught
Master of realities adrift in bombastic theory
Servant to whimsies of mercurial thought

Spirit seeking purpose, eyes beseech heaven
The void swells, in answering angelic voice
Alighting the soul with renewal, redemption
And hopeless fantasy becomes simple choice
Ex tenebris, lux.

©2025 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved
Bri Jul 22
An unfamiliar feeling
Almost like bubbles in my stomach
Fireworks in my brain

Laughter comes easily
Jokes slide off my tongue
Drunk on the feeling

Summer days
Long car rides
Music blasting
Bringing the strange feeling
Filling the air I breathe

Confidence
Love
The purest joy
Feeling as high as the stars in the sky

Better than a cigarette
Or any drug
The bursting
Euphoric feeling
Of true happiness
was feeling pretty good today for the first time in a long time
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