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Ricki Apr 25
I still miss you.
I miss the kisses, the cuddles, the ***.
I miss your cheeky little grin and your wispy beard against my skin.
I miss how your eyes would glisten and your voice went higher,
As I listened to you tell me about dragon ball, or how work had been prior.
Without you, there are highs and lows, and
Every day is too fast, yet too slow.
If you had asked me early March why I’m here,
There would be nothing else to hear, except gushing over your curly hair
Or, how you walked me home from school every day when I was 15.
****.
Why did you have to be so mean?
It went and ****** up everything.
Why’d you do that **** to me?
I couldn’t even just be and exist as me,
And everything is just the worst
Because I had to put me first.
I still miss you.
And, honestly I don’t know what to do
Or even who the **** I am.
I’m a phantom of myself.
I’m a ******* basketcase,
I’m a useless waste of space.
I can’t stop messing up everything.
And ever since we broke up,
I’ve worn your jacket to work.
And, I’m the **** that dumped you, but
My heart ******* hurts.
I still miss you.
I see you in every spring flower rising from the dirt.
And, I think they wrote every song about you, too.
Why does every beautiful piece of art look a lot like you?
I hate that I love rom coms.
I hate that you wouldn’t dance with me at prom.
I hate that I’m not Sally, and you’ll never be my Harry.
I hate that I wanted to marry you.
I’d rather die than be your spouse.
You’re still trying to say who I should talk to and what I should do.
I hate that I’m stuck 2 minutes from you and your stupid ******* house.
Because of you I can’t breathe and I shake.
Every time someone yells at me, I ******* break.
I hate that you’re so ******* bad to the core
I hate that you called me slurs and said I looked like a *****
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
I still miss you.
Remember when you smacked my face?
That’s something you can undo or erase.
Remember when I tried to exit a moving vehicle because you were keeping me against my will?
Rather you like it or not, that was meaningful.
Remember when you took my keys so that I couldn’t leave?
I genuinely can’t believe I let someone do those things to me.
Remember when you didn’t get me anything for graduating, turning 18, Valentine’s Day, anything.
You owe me so many ******* dates that you cancelled because it was getting late.
Remember when you berated me in front of all of my friends over and over again?
You called all my interests stupid and you never gave a **** about my art.
You wrote your name across my heart, but you never would dance with me
Because you thought I was cringey.
I still miss you.
And boy, you haven’t a single clue how to treat a woman, or even any person.
I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I hate that I still love you.
I hate that my identity is so entangled in you.
I don’t know what the **** to do.
Why am I here?
Why am I stuck in this perpetual state of fear that I can’t live without you?
You should get out of my head.
****, these intrusive thoughts want me dead.
I hate my stupid ******* brain for filling myself with disdain towards who I am alone.
I want to text you, but I’ll refrain.
Now, you’re nothing more than a name in my phone.
You’re not the boy that makes me swoon, giggle and moan anymore.
You’re not my baby, my qt, mi amor; you aren’t someone I want to adore.
I still miss you.
Why am I here?
What am I doing?
Deep inside me something’s brewing.
Every day I’ve sat here stewing.
I need to be someone new,
I need to figure out what to do.
Why can’t I ******* stop thinking about you?
But I’m still breathing; I’m not dead.
I keep forcing myself out of bed.
And I even dyed my hair red.
I’m here.
I’m where I’m supposed to be
And until my heart mends
I’m surrounded by lovely friends.
I’ll run away to be an artist.
Even though I’m not the smartest, I’ll figure this **** out.
I’ll learn to live without you.
I quit that job I hated.
My heart throbs for something different.
And **** love; it’s overated.
I still miss you.
My whole life was infiltrated by cupid’s stupid arrow.
My trust in life is so near narrow, and
I’ll never let a boy treat me like a barbie doll.
I am my own;  I won't be toyed with and I won’t fall
for some self obsessed, egotistical, adorable, little *******.
I wake up in my own bed and I own my own legs.
You can cry and you can beg, but I will never be your girl again.
And ****.
I’m here now, and I’ll allow what I’ll allow.
I’m going to just live for me
I’m here to just simply be.
I’m lost and I’m unknowing,
But ****** ****** boy, I’m ******* growing.
AND I’m here now.
I’m figuring out how to say no,
And I’m trying to go when and where I want to go.
I’m going to run away from you,
And you can stay in this **** town.
I know I won't let me down.
Why am I here?
One day I woke up on this blue-green sphere, and it didn’t mean a single thing.
I was a lump of flesh and blood; my mind was fresh and not corrupt.
I learned pain and I learned love. They both came and went abrupt.
I’m here now scorned and torn, and my heart and mind are worn.
I’ll live without you.
I’ll do what I have to.
What does it even matter why or how?
I’m here now because I’m here now.
I still miss you.
But, one day I won’t.
I’m here to see that day I don’t.
I’m here to hold my own heart.
I’m here now to make my art.
I still miss you.
This is so long, but This is my magnum opus of poetry. I dated this guy for 4 years and he meant the world to me. I love him a lot, and I only want good things to go his way. I was in a toxic relationship, but he has a good heart. This poem is me pouring my soul out, and I wrote it for a school project.
We are everything
They told you about
We are the beautiful dream
They wish to have again, and again
We are the fairytale characters
Who always win in the end
Heroes and heroines — beau idéals
We are the good people
Nothing can divide us;
Politics, tribe, trade, doctrine, greed, religion
Brave men and women
Who fought to be free
Red for their brave blood
That stopped flowing for our sake
Gold for our mineral wealth;
Diamond, gold, bauxite, manganese
Green for our rich forests
Which give us herbage and food
And the Black five-pointed star
For our emancipation from the British colony
Because our lives matter
Just like all free nations
Building a strong foundation of love
And high pillars of culture
Strength. Love. Peace
We are everything they cannot be
The four corners of the nation, not just part
Are as proud as we can be
We are GHANA!
Ghana is 65 years today. On the 6th of March, 1957, Ghana was the first African country to gain her independence. Our development seems to be in a snail pace but our spirits are still intact. We're not giving up. We pride ourselves in our beautiful culture, hospitable citizens, and peaceful country.  “Forward ever, backward never” - Osagefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2
Laced with ribbons of moonlight
Bangladesh a touched dream at first light.
Land of my father, my mother
sweeter than nectar.
Purer than the driven snow
brighter than raw gold.
Gazing stars’ bumped up bottom
down the untouched moon.

Men and the six seasons
living in one loving fold
our one fertile sweet home!
O Allah rank our martyrs our heroes
up high in paradise in bloom
brought Bangladesh freedom abloom!

Punters cumulus clouds fly
eyes on the sky blue  
on a spur hanging low tune into wild coo.
Picture independent Bangladesh
step in on the morning rug
rolls out outside the sun
walk through, the moon is inside!
Bask in, take your time
when the twilight adds a shadow
the beauty spot on your broad daylight
escape to more serendipitous discovery.
Eye on the stars or tuberoses on the ground
our free land is inspiring, beautiful even in the dark.

Laughs free from a tulip glass  
across the land, air and the water
upon the reed flute stirred river
flowing downstream to the hilt
from a deep-delved foundation out of reach
her raised high flag flies
over the pivotal banyan trees.

Every flap of our ‘the sun in the green’ shaped flag,
the light of heaven on the evergreen earth!
Ah, sways in the chalice of every flower
on the land cheers beyond the warm South
whispers to our hearts and makes us feel proud.
Just Grace Jan 6
dancing in the kitchen
in pajamas

Jazz on while
the third downpour before
the end of the year
strips the buckeye of all its yellowed leaves

As
a well watered body
worked with the waves
and the strange freshness
of just a little water up the nose

throwing your hair
when tea sounds like the best idea during a storm
And finding your favorite cup in front after opening the cupboards

As
planetary bounty saying
“It’s your turn”

It’s when
all the kings unite
and rejoice for poppies in full bloom
Innocent, and dangerous

Oui, je m’aime
Oui, moi même,

en fait…
Àŧùl Oct 2021
The date was 15 August 1947,
And India became a dominion of the Crown.
It remained so until 26 January 1950,
When India became a Democratic Republic.
So, it was not before 26 January 1950,
When India became completely independent.

And they eulogise the bald old man,
As if it was only his non-violence.
No, credit it to the Azad Hind Fauj,
And more so to the broken British economy after the Second World War.

Correct me if you know better,
Take care to be mild.
To your words, apply some butter,
Do not be so wild.
Discussions are open.
My HP Poem #1947
©Atul Kaushal
Elaenor Aisling Sep 2021
First,
dress yourself in all black
no bright colors
that draw wandering eyes.
Wear the only baseball cap you own
position your pony tail
so the brim shields most of your face
but you still have enough peripheral vision
to look over your shoulder.
Move the ring you have worn on your right hand
since you were 16,
to the left ring finger.
You cannot tell the difference
between those who will leave
when there is a shadow of another man
and those who will see it as a challenge.

Second,
arm yourself.
Tie your small pocket knife into the waistband of your shorts,
last resort first.
Clip your keys to your bra
and tuck your mace canister
in the space between your *******
along with all the promises
of men who have loved you
and promised to protect you.


Third,
text your sister
tell her where you are going
and ask her to check on you
if you have not replied in an hour.
Keep one earbud out,
and do not get lost in the strains
of Tracy Chapman's voice, no matter how beautiful.
***** up your ears
the way you have seen a deer's twitch in twilight,
You both know what it is to be prey.

Fourth,
begin.
In your apartment complex
as you run across the green space,
there are children laughing,
and you feel safe enough.
Do not let this last.
When you reach the road
feel the power of your thighs beneath you
as you sprint across,
controlled sinew and muscle
you always wanted them to be strong enough
to kick a hole in brick.

Fifth,
slip your mace out of your bra
and into your fist
while you sprint through the wooded drive.
In your mind, practice screaming
FIRE! HELP! GET THE **** AWAY FROM ME!
until your vocal chords are in imagined shreds.

Sixth,
Pace yourself.
You know if you are too tired,
you cannot outrun someone.
Your lungs will give out before your legs do,
breathe deep, and pull your shoulders back.
You have never swung a punch
at another human
but you imagine what it would be like,
the bones of your knuckles
breaking across a zygomatic arch.

Seventh,
When you pass others
do not meet their eyes, do not smile.
Under the imagined safety of your hat brim
keep your eyes on the sidewalk and their feet,
in case they turn toward you.
Remember where the parents with children are walking
because they will be a safe haven to run to.
When there is no one in front of you,
look over your shoulder.


Eighth,
On your way back through the wooded drive
when Judges 19:25
the news reports of gang rapes on buses,
Kitty Genovese, and the voices of all the women you know
who have been harassed and *****, flash through your mind
run faster.

Ninth,
text your sister that you are safe
only when you are back in your apartment
and the door is locked,
and you are sure no one has come in
while you were out.
Kiss the salt from your skin
and thank your body
for its
strength.
Daivik Aug 2021
On that August day
From heaven the martyrs cried
Their dream
Their struggle
For which they died
Was finally realized

The dawn was breaking
It was history in making
The charkha of time had turned
After so many years
A nation was waking
Up
SUDHANSHU KUMAR Aug 2021
I respect your emotion,
I respect your notion,
I respect your beliefs,
According to your definition.

It's a beautiful sentiment
Of oneself for its nation.
You can't expect the same,
As per your definition.

For some it's their pride,
For some it's their confidence,
For some it's their arrogance,
But for me, it's a feeling of humanity beyond boundaries!

Nationalism is to see all equal,
Nationalism is to fight against prejudices ,
Nationalism is to fight against discriminations,
Nationalism is to be united,
Nationalism is to make and keep sovereignty.

Nationalism is beyond one's explanation,
Nationalism is beyond one's thoughts,
Nationalism is beyond one's beliefs,
But, is nationalism above or beyond  humanity?

You must have the feeling of nationalism,
You must support your nationality,
But You must stay away from extremism,
To support the mankind and humanity.

Nothing is above than humanism,
Nothing is above than mankind,
Nothing is above than humanity,
Neither our nationalism nor our nationality!
In today's world... we see a lot of extremists spreading hate against other's religion, ideologies and all... And that too in the name of nationalism... They are tagging themselves as a nationalist and others as anti-national... Who are against their Ideologies... And the irony is this... That the elected government is also supporting them... It's hard to believe but it's reality that most governments of world are acting today as the elected dictator of that nation!
Whether it's other nations or mine INDIA ... The ugly truth of INDIA🇮🇳 (the world's largest democracy) is this... That it is losing its Democratic values at a very fast pace... And it might be possible that in coming days the world's largest democracy will remain only on the pages...
Daivik Aug 2021
They had nothing to give
To their motherland
Except their mortal lives
So they gave it cheerfully
Without a second thought
To see her wrinkled smile
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