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Hafza Awan Sep 19
an old man,
with messy hair and a wrinkled face
leaning shoulders and curved back
waking up from the drenched ground
folding his scruffy blanket looking around
a new day with hope in his dreamy eyes
took a shovel on his flimsy shoulders
and sat by the roadside
awaiting a clientele
to earn his bread
Keiko Tei Sep 20
His name was Johnny. His close friends and family liked to call him, little johnny.

This story is about little johnny, with his report card nearing, he wanted to throw one last Hail Mary.

He tried his best and paid attention. He did all but one math question.

On the night before the big day, he knew that this was it. He fell asleep from fatigue, before everything he learned could even hit...

Next morning, little johnny feeling proud of his effort, went off to school feeling great from his rest.

Unfortunately for little johnny, the results show...that in the end he still failed his math test.

This is a story of little johnny, and his mediocre report card.

I plan to write one for every time I am reminded that it's just as important to acknowledge your existence as "normal" and "mediocre" as it is to believe that you are "special" and "unique".

The truth is that no one has read stories about people who fail, fail, and fail again, without really obtaining success in the end.
Christmas present? Ham. Mom's gift - no spiral
Just sliced it, diced it, multiply, divide - nothing left by the wayside
Bone broth made
Compound interest
Cut it up three... maybe 4 ways
Skyline chili and a...
Splash!  head above...
Relax dad, I can swim, I'm still YOUR daughter
Your wife, though, she said...
Forget what she said
People talk. Hush, shh! It's true  - she's wild
Mild and indifferent
when the meek inherits the Earth
but as long as evil spawns from birth
bound are not my wrists with worry or fear
every time someone whispers my name in another's ear
Blood on my tongue before I sob
Self reliant, I found another job
No Sleep Quality In(n) daylight hours
Florescent lights
8 to 8
No time to sit around and...
Where's my soup?!
That's all I have
One hundred and eighty food stamps
One hundred and eighty blessings each month
But not enough for you to take my lunch.
Part of a spoken word representing a dream, hard work w/ little reprieve.  Willingness to stand up to whosoever tells you "you can't do it" and those who think they can profit off of the young, vulnerable or those without social support.
All words are true.
Oh dear Chrysanthemum,
You look so joyful dancing with the summer wind.
And your petals are the testament
of your courage and hardwork.

Hello dear Chrysanthemum,
You look so lovely under the midday sun,
But the world has yet to understand,
the pain it took you to bloom.
I can't decide,don't know what to do,
I look around but I find no clue.
Is it some other quest of life too?
I can't decide,I can't even move...
Longing for answers to all of the questions related to life and future...
Perdue Poems Apr 24
How many of humankind
think ourselves seeds growing in the dirt
certain showers will pour praise from the heavens
"nurture us, provide for us, acknowledge us !" we demand
yet we seem to forget the work of the seed in the land
so tough, so hard, so determined is the seed
that it breaks the barriers set in dirt
but do we?
do we work?
or do we sit in the Earth
questioning why the sun hasn't shined upon our face
wondering when dirt will push up our pedestal to the surface
I don't know if it's very obvious, but the poem itself is supposed to look like a tree! Hope you enjoyed
Black Leaf Apr 21
Everything you want to have,
Everything you want to be,
Lies across the bridge you see.

It's burning, it's freezing,
It's hard, there's suffering.

But until your legs are cut,
And your heart is out,
You'll keep on walking..

As everything you want to have,
Everything you want to be,
Lies across the bridge you see.
Hurricane Apr 16
I can plan out a lifetime based on one look,
A glance in my direction,
Though disputed,
Can prompt my imagination.

Our life would be happy,
Without harsh judgement,
You'd hold me close,
And laugh when I made the coffee wrong,
But we'd be happy.

This disputed glance,
Probably aimed at her,
Not the deeply loving girl,
Slightly to the right.
for the conscientious , hard worker always sat in the corner
Maelynn Mar 11
If tomorrow our sky is no longer blue
I should hope to sit and talk to you
To waste away hours laced with darkness
With a gentle smile and a sweet caress
For sunshine is a relative term
And shades of Gray hold beauty;
I find it in the depths of your eyes
When you're feeling sad and gloomy;
And when our skies of blue return
I will hold you tighter still
And through centuries of sun and storm
I'll never get my fill
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