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Ces Dec 2020
Like God, ever sought
Elusive, enigmatic
A puzzle of a million pieces
Or maybe, just maybe
A figment of imagination
Ah! The sorry plight of a human being
Always in constant need
Of meaning.
Naveen Malhotra Dec 2020
They don't
Need poems
Whether Sunrise
Whether Sunset
They get up early
To toil hard
Work till late night
Make a living and survive
They have seen many a talent
Living hand-to-mouth
Safana Nov 2020
An agony of a war
Within the family,
Twelve, we were
born, the first not
I am and, the first
just I am

A bigamy,
sometimes is
raw deal and,
outrageous is always
planting, on the
farm yard of a family
tree and it's branches,
there is hatred between
brethren of the same
parental map, the
youngish feel to
count out the unyoung
for no reason but, to
take the rag coiled
the head of the
Kingdom, where all
they lives and dwell,
I am more than pliable
and I am in the plight
mode like I plight to
someone throth having
no wealth, my heart feet
plod and trudge, they
Positioned my life as
plonker through all
the ploy and manoeuvre
seeded, downgraded own
talent and light of my pen
work, I will not be pride
on myself but, so many
did with the negation
of my family,
Everyone's hatred on
some like me, so why?

Because, I am bestowed
not with laziness but a
gift to learn and understand
easily, and I Wasn't gifted with
more wealth like mansa moussa
John McCafferty Nov 2020
The hour of the wolf calls
Cool dark sharp but calm
No moonlight howl or cry
Head down and focused frown

Pawns are pushed into place
The risks we trust to take
With good faith in calculus
These gods are among us

Energetic plight flickers
Spattered anger flouts
Dilated rage with white teeth out
To think beyond aloud
Funny how the face of a clown
can quickly change it's mouth
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Karijinbba Aug 2020
The tiniest it is the more
views globally it begets.
The longest, the less views
and fewer comments
Thank goodness
this is about tini poems
not lovers inch plight.
By; Karijinbba
if less is more I get views.
Bryn Kennell Jul 2020
When I put out the light
They all take flight
Even my shadow leaves at night
This is my plight
Sanjana Jun 2020
This is the journal of the dead,
The one that reads of misery and plight.
Pain, sorrow, tears un-wiped.
Will, I read it? Yes, I might!

He smiled and laughed through the unhappiness received,
He probably forgot that eyes could deceive.

He drank champagne till his empty heart-filled,
His soul wasn't empty, filled with guilt.

His skin was embellished with cuts and scars,
His mind within him ripped him apart.

He walked till the end, till the edge of every cliff,
Through paths lit with fires and lanes filled with pyres.

He waited for long and lost everything coming along,
Broken pieces un-joint, falling way behind time.

He cried and wept through every coming night,
Till his face turned pale and tears were denied.

He had to depart with a smile on his face,
It was finally the end, of an unendurable phase.

This is the journal of the dead,
Of the one that cried, but never lied.
Of the one broken, yet the one who never broke.
Of the one that died, leaving all behind.
The sufferings of a man through out his life until he rested in peace at the end.
VKBoy Feb 2020
There’s nothing bright
To warm us on this windy night.
So let us not fight
But instead use our smite
To turn this naked plight
Into a cozy ordeal outright.
"When you can’t have everything, you yield and make use of what you have."
- Sinario Vesta, Shambala Sect
Khoi Feb 2020
As they face another wall
my eyes are in a river
and my face a waterfall
I see children begging
in the street
I hear their hearts
can you feel the heat
a penny for your thoughts
please embrace the need
and attend to the beat
If at that moment you have to spare
apply the principle of giving God will
take care of the rest.
Proctor Ehrling Nov 2019
Left hope behind
Abandoned fights
All vicious signs
Of savage plights

Felt like a flea
A parasite
All savage plea
To savage plight

Oh Sisyphus
Exhausted might
Lay in a hearse
Oh savage plight

Heathen in prayer
God-given right
Sign of the lair
Of savage plights

A crimson snow
And eyes of white
But don't you know
These savage plights

By Doom's own herald, God's own **** creatures all collide
Like ole rye barrelled, seasoned to withstand savage plights

Let woman cry
Let man be scorned
Let savage plights
Shut closing doors

He'll will stay frozen
Heaven forlorn
The savage chosen
***** of Babylon

Live off of plights
All but one savage
Dragged day and night
Your horseless carriage

Call it a burden
That is your right
One thing's for certain
It's savage plights

With mind so prurient
Give humans blights
From West to Orient
Come savage plights

Dorian-like picture on the wall, too mild a fighter for a knight
Was God-forsaken, after all, dealt sole with and to others each a savage plight
It's rare for me to actually write something complete and not an on-the-spot random blabber. Here it is. Decipher it at your own leisure.
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