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OpenWorldView Nov 17
mama and papa
i long for your warm embrace
but you both passed on
I miss you!
Bhill Oct 11
is humanity going to be beautiful again
it has lost its way, and I want to know when
all people of the world, deserve a little break
it has been too long since all of us, really could partake
mama never told us, there would be days like this
she told us what she knew and would she gave us a kiss
I want humanity to be beautiful again
let's find a way to save ourselves, and I end, with an AMEN

Brian Hill - 2020 # 280
blazing soul Apr 17
Devastated continuity....

It was a time unlike aforetime..
Eyes became heavy, lids dropping and nose running streams..

Legs became weak, hearts became broken and brains tuned to the channel of Kerfuffle like a faulty compares drifting through directions and heads became bowed..


Mouth became closed,  throats became dried and intestines got tangled..

Voices pronouncing, lamenting, grieving.. Agonies bursting forth in acclamation..

Time got suspended, sun stood still behind the clouds, moon went on a visit..

Everything seems paused for a while, yet not a  thing ever gives the slightest respite or tarry a while to console a devastated, shattered heart and soul...
Shattered, console,  acclamation, kerfuffle..
Your laughter
cut
through
the dark
spilling
joy
into the vacuum
of
our pain.
Surkhab kaur Aug 15
My mother is the aid to all my aches
I can feel her warm hand on my head
when I sleep with a cold heart.
Even though she strokes my head for minutes
It keeps me warm for days.
I am sorry Mama! I know you deserve
a daughter much better.
Not someone like me...a girl fighting with her
own mind day and night.
I am sorry Mama! I am sorry...
All I can promise is to make you proud one day.
She is an excellent lady I live with.
Life on LSD Jul 27
in elk leven kies ik jou,
met twee handen grijp ik je vast

jij hoort bij mij
en ik bij jou.
ik mis je

ik mis het om thuis bij jou te komen
ik mis het om mij geborgen te voelen
de vrouw van mijn leven
de vrouw van mijn hart
geen ander die ooit zo van mij heeft gehouden
geen ander die mij nooit pijn heeft willen doen

geen ander zoals jij
Marri Jul 26
When my kid asks me:
Mama, where were you when the coronavirus pandemic hit?

Well, sweet child, mama was out there exploring the world. I climbed mountains, sailed seas, and fought pirates. Mama was a warrior. She was a healer. She was something else. Mama was making history.

Really, Mama?

No, baby.

I stayed inside trying to finish schoolwork. I put together every puzzle at least 3 times. I ate the same meal twice a week. Baby, mama was robbed. Mama never saw her friends, mama never went to prom, mama never fought a pirate.

Was that all, mama?

No, love.

People died. Too many people, too many people died. We were too stupid, we were too busy, we were ignorant, love. We were destructive, we were killers of our own kind. We were monsters, love.

But, sweetheart...

Yes, mama?

There was beauty in it. Such beauty. We died so the world could live. Flowers bloomed, fish swam, and nature thrived. We could feel the sunshine, we could feel the rain, we could hear the birds, sweetheart. It was beautiful.

Weren’t you scared, mama?
Weren’t you lonely?

My child, yes, I was once. I was scared and I was lonely, but I learned something, my child. In fear, nothing grows. In isolation, there is solitude. But In hope, we flourish. In solitude, we find peace.

My child, my sweet child, we were just beginning to awaken.
Now, we’ll never sleep again.
Surkhab kaur Jul 16
The most precious sound to me
is that tune,
The tune...that my mother hums while cooking.
The kitchen looks like the Valley of Flowers
and she...dancing like a butterfly among them.
The euphonious tune fills the enviornment
and leaves me in the peace,
that I long for...
Mama feels like home...actually mama is home!!
Skylar Turner May 27
dear mother, this is my letter to you.

i would like to start this letter off by saying that i didn’t know who to address it to.
“mother” is a term that i hold dearly,
a term many use simply and with abandon.
thoughtlessly throwing the term around,
bestowing the title upon their friends’ mothers,
like they’re their second family.

for years the term has encumbered me,
chained me to a wall where the shackles have rusted into my wrists.
my arms have gone limp from pulling at them from either trying to get away or trying to get back to you.

my mother.

but lately,
i’ve found that mother is a term of endearment.
a complete bond of trust and love that i’m suppose to feel but haven’t for years.
and lately,

mother,

it’s because you haven’t been a mother.
and maybe...
maybe that sounds dramatic and cold and cruel and just downright unfair.

because you gave birth to me right?

because your idea of love is different but it’s still love, faith and ******* you can’t do this to your sisters do you know what my mother did to me you can take it
but i can’t mother.

mom.

i can’t take it mom.
you’ve taken so much from me.

you’ve stolen my health.

my ability to trust.

my ability to love.

you’ve stolen the compassion from my bones and you’ve robbed me of my childhood and i never got to recklessly throw myself into something that doesn’t matter because it doesn’t matter and i never got to live,

mama

i never got to live.

you’ve already given me guilt,
guilt that i already had.
guilt upon guilt upon guilt upon guilt

and you never stopped to think that this hurts me too?

not even once?

you think i slide through life, laughing because i have another mother who was better than you?
the funny thing is,

mama

is that she is better than you.

and it hurts me even more that she’s better than you.

because you gave birth to me.

you gave me life.

the breath in my lungs.

the heart in my chest and the brain in my head.

yet she’s the one that made it beat and she’s the one that gave me thought and she’s the one that breathes for me when i can’t.
because janda,

janda,

you should’ve done that for me.

not her.

you should’ve done that.

but you didn’t.

so i’m letting you go,
because you didn’t fight to stay.
you didn’t fight to change.
because i’m just like everyone else.

because how can you be my mother when you never treated me like your daughter.

i love you.
and i’ll always love you,
but i can’t love you like this.
not anymore.

sincerely, faith marino.
these are the last words i’ll ever say to my mother, even though she’ll never hear them.
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