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Don't be a prisoner of your past
Like a fallen yellow leaf
With no song, no fire

Be like the enchanting nature
That celebrates life with
The new dawn, new sun rise
Birds melodies, blue skies
Smiling flowers, green grass
Fresh air, dancing butterflies
Twinkling stars
And evolving moon

Hussein Dekmak
I am a raindrop, born in the clouds. My existence, a fleeting dance between the ethereal and the tangible. I join my siblings, millions of others, in a journey that seems both endless and predestined. We tumble, we spin, we collide, and yet there is a strange sense of harmony to it all. As if we are part of something greater than ourselves, something that transcends the physical world.

And then, finally, we reach the edge of the world. The vast, endless expanse that stretches out before us. We plummet, feeling the weight of gravity pulling us down, down, down. The wind rushes past us, tearing at our tiny forms, yet somehow it also carries us forward. It whispers secrets of the world below, of the life that awaits us in the depths.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, my journey ends. I strike the surface of the water with a soft splash, disappearing beneath the surface. I am no longer a raindrop, but a part of something else now. I am a leaf in the still waters of a pond.

The world around me is a study in contrasts. Above, the sky stretches out in shades of blue, dotted with clouds that occasionally drift past, casting shadows over the water. Below, a carpet of greenery sways gently in the breeze, hinting at a hidden world teeming with life. I drift lazily, carried by the currents, my only concern being to stay afloat and avoid being swept away.

Drifting gracefully on the serene surface of a tranquil pond, I exist as a leaf with no defined purpose, no specific path to follow, and no inner musings. Contentedly, I meander aimlessly, embracing the tranquility that envelops these undisturbed waters. As a leaf, I find solace in simply being, surrendering to the gentle currents that guide my journey.
ok okay May 2023
Lonely little leaf
Flying alone in an autumn breeze 

Amber where it was once green
Its changed in ways that can't be seen

Will it be let to lay 
Or fly away

I hope it will be with the stars one day
But most likely it will just fade away

Just like everything else
We all decay
Fly away
Brian Turner Oct 2022
Something is in the water ..
Something is coming towards me..
It's shaped like a Viking ship..
The front end is the S shaped bow..
Like the Loch Ness monster
The rear a flat stern
Catching the wind
Taking it forwards, then port, then starboard
It's magic, it's an S shaped leaf
Caught travelling on a beautiful day
Notes from looking at a peculiar leaf blowing in the water during my lunch break
Odd Odyssey Poet Jan 2022
A leaf in the wind;
was falling in the rain
(such heavy rain)

It's despair,
the story of a kid
(such a common story)

Who fell away from their peers;
as it's so lonely to be brave.

As poverty's coin flipped over;
soon dead on it's head.
Chasing any chance of wealth;
going round in circles,
Chasing it's tail.

With a gun of six;
shot, shot, shot, shot, shot, shot!
The weapon of man's hand;
that only revolves around death.

And I'd still ask the Lord,
to shine on our worth;
Despite of us being at our worst,
never lose the light of earth,
as we keep shinning our torches.
Diesel Nov 2021
A beauty touched! A yellow leaf!
Which shines and stares from midnight beams,
That topples waves with every motion
In yellow glaze and bright commotion!

  Not distraught by distant wind,
The yellow park leaflet rides,
Among the arch, among the brim
Abound a wood— stood sitting high:

And branches tight, which sit them fair—
Not caught up by their troubles them—
Swallowed by some ancient air,
And there I stood, beauty'd in:

Felt it did, in inertias touch,
Oh gentle leaf in gentle cusp,
You kiss despite a wind-eye breeze—
You sit and yet you give enough
A night wood, beauty-yellow tree.
Odd Odyssey Poet Nov 2021
As I,
Once lived;
On great mountains;
Making not a piece of sound.
And    in    my    dying   moments,
I lay silent in a bed of pretty flowers.
I’m crushed, with my skin of shaded brown,
Now  a part of the Earth' ground as it  erodes.
In the wind, I whisper whisperings of my time,
A  forgotten  season lost in winter,  and  life.
In  a  forest  filled  to  the  brim  of  d­reams,
Parked       underneath        the       shade,
Once      guarded,        and      unafraid.
And      ­    what           a         shame,
Soon      I’ll      be      gone
With     the     wind,
Forgotten
Of
N
A
M
E
S
A Psalmist Sep 2021
You picked me from the masses
Taken from the grasses
"I'll remember you forever"
So I'm stored between the covers
Pressed and crushed within the pages
Just like all the others
And over time, I am dried
No more tears left to cry.
I am just another leaflet
In your book of memories
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