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LC Aug 2020
the present world
can pull you back in time -
sometimes a gentle pull,
sometimes a hard yank
to remind you of the past.

you take a trip
to meet your past self.
you watch her love,
grow, make mistakes -
she and you are one.

then you take a deep breath,
whispering a farewell
to your past self.
you walk through time,
returning to the present.
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2019
We love eachother
At least that is what we say
If that's true why do we have to
Remind ourselves every day?
It just feels like family should be more than people you are required to love
Susan Nishimoto Oct 2019
What is it about trees that make them so special?

Why is it that they make me have a sense of peace?

Is it because trees are really alive like us?

Or that they stand so tall, reaching towards the sky?

What do trees remind us of when we look at them?

Why do they make me smile when I look at them?

Is it because trees are really like people too?

Or that they too, seem to have no care in the world?
I had written this when I was at work, since there's a lot of trees around :)
kiran goswami May 2019
My mother has been reminding me of things,
since I was 4,
and the school started giving homework.

She reminded me of
the notebooks I needed to take,
the drawing  I needed to make.
the exams and competitions coming,
the girl, I thought I was becoming.
The answers I needed to remember,
there are 31 August 30 September.
the handkerchief I must never forget to bring home back,
the books that needed to be kept when my bag when I used to pack.
The words 'harsh' and 'cruel' that I should never speak,
Gods and mythology all Indian and Greek.
The way I should sit and walk and behave,
the Queen's like Lakshmibai to tell me even I am brave.
The lights that needed to be turned off and to shut the doors,
to be careful while painting and not let the colours spill on the floor.

My mother still reminds me of things,
now I am 17 and school still gives homework.

she reminds me of
The lakes that a deeper than a sea,
the Queen's like Lakshmibai and Sita because that's how I want to be.
The kingdom that flourished, the kingdoms that vanished,
the dream she lost and her words that were banished.
Herself, who is  like the bank that is washed by the soft Ganga waves,
Her sandy words that grow roses and sunflowers and then dig their own Graves,
The stars that are lonely and yet together,
the places where people go to find themselves in pleasant weather.
The handkerchief that I must never forget and bring home back
the books that I need to keep in my bag when I pack.
The lights that need to be turned off and to shut the doors,
to be careful while painting and not let the colour spill on the floor.
The prayer and the love that she carries in her eyes,
the hope and the faith that she tells me, 'never die'.

My mother still reminds me of things.
Vic May 2019
A poem always reminds you of something,
Doesn't matter what it is.
But when I show you my writings,
Give me your opinion,
Instead of telling me whatever it reminds you of.
The poems I write,
In your eyes are something I could truly never be.
But if I show you something,
The way how I feel,
Why can it never be really me?
Yup
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