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Jeremiah Mhlongo Dec 2020
๐–ถ๐—ˆ๐—„๐–พ ๐—‚๐—‡๐—๐—ˆ ๐—€๐—‹๐–บ๐—๐–พ ๐—Œ๐—‚๐—…๐–พ๐—‡๐–ผ๐–พ,
๐–จ ๐—…๐—‚๐—๐–พ ๐–บ๐—…๐—ˆ๐—‡๐–พ, ๐–จ ๐—…๐—‚๐—๐–พ ๐–บ๐—…๐—ˆ๐—‡๐–พ,
๐–ถ๐—๐–พ๐—‹๐–พ ๐—‚๐—Œ ๐—†๐—’ ๐—…๐—ˆ๐—๐–พ๐—‹?
๐–ฌ๐—’ ๐—๐—๐—ˆ๐—Ž๐—€๐—๐—๐—Œ ๐–ฟ๐—ˆ๐—…๐—…๐—ˆ๐— ๐—๐–พ๐—‹,
๐–ข๐—‹๐–พ๐–พ๐—‰๐—‚๐—‡๐—€ ๐—‚๐—‡ ๐—๐–พ๐—‹ ๐—Œ๐—๐–บ๐–ฝ๐—ˆ๐—๐—Œ,
๐–จ ๐—๐–บ๐—๐–พ ๐—‡๐—ˆ ๐—‰๐–พ๐—‡๐—‡๐—’ ๐–ฟ๐—ˆ๐—‹ ๐—๐–พ๐—‹ ๐—๐—๐—ˆ๐—Ž๐—€๐—๐—๐—Œ,
๐–ฌ๐—’, ๐–ฌ๐—’, ๐–ฎ๐— ๐—๐—๐–พ๐—‹๐–พ ๐—‡๐—ˆ๐— ๐—…๐–บ๐—’๐—Œ ๐—†๐—’ ๐—…๐—ˆ๐—๐–พ๐—‹?
๐–จ๐—‡ ๐–ป๐—‹๐–พ๐–บ๐—๐—๐—Œ ๐—ˆ๐–ฟ ๐–บ๐—‡๐—ˆ๐—๐—๐–พ๐—‹ ๐–ผ๐—๐–บ๐—‰,
๐–ซ๐–บ๐—’๐—Œ ๐—†๐—’ ๐—…๐—ˆ๐—๐–พ๐—‹ ๐—‚๐—‡ ๐–ผ๐—ˆ๐—†๐–ฟ๐—ˆ๐—‹๐—๐—‚๐—‡๐—€ ๐—Œ๐—…๐–พ๐–พ๐—‰,
๐– ๐—‡๐–ฝ ๐–จ ๐—…๐—ˆ๐—‡๐–พ ๐—๐–พ๐—‹๐–พ ๐–ผ๐—ˆ๐—…๐–ฝ ๐—‚๐—‡ ๐–บ๐–ป๐—ˆ๐—Ž๐—‡๐–ฝ๐—‚๐—‡๐—€ ๐—๐–พ๐–พ๐—‰.
the one I love belongs to another, she belongs to another, how unfair of love
Bhill Nov 2020
The Rains Came...

the rains came in short, but lovely, bursts
clouds, that had been only skyward visitors, decided to weep
welcome, welcome rain from high up
come and fill our flowers cup
leave some moisture for us to keep
leave it while the desert sleeps
let it soak into the ground
giving up lifes nector, with nary a sound
the rains came in short, but lovely bursts....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 308
N Sep 2020
I wonder if the filed of lavender
sighs when it yearns for her scent

I wonder if the sunflowers
worship her raven hair
like the sun

I wonder if the moon weeps
with longing over her absence  

I wonder if the sky turns pink
when the spring breeze
touches her silky skin

I wonder if the cherries bleed in her
mouth like my heart when she left
N Sep 2020
If the sky turns pink
when the spring breeze
touches her silky skin

If the filed of lavender sighs
when it yearns for her scent

If the sunflowers
worship her raven hair
like the sun

If the moon weeps with
longing over her absenceย ย 

If a thorny flower
hurts liker her
Kara Shirlene Aug 2020
I reach to my heart
When depth of despair draws near
And the weight of the world
Rests on my weary shoulders.

I reach to my heart
When the lack of compassion and apathy prevails
Because tongues of men spit words
That couldn't be further from the truth.

I reach to my heart
When the brave and wise tend to
Other's needs alongside their own,
Because their hearts are made of
Pure Gold.

I reach to my heart
When the fear of the unknown
Becomes too much to bear.
When my mind won't stop chattering.

I reach for my heart
When it all feels like too much...

But the Peace Lily bloomed
Just to weep with us too,
And suddenly all of our burdens became one.

I reach for my heart
When there is no hope in sight
Yet- deep down I know I can feel
The Healing Light.
Because Love is all I've ever truly known.
ยฉKSS 4/2020
This poem was written in response to my feelings of grief surrounding the global pandemic. It was April, and my Peace Lily had bloomed for the first time in a few months, and I just remember feeling so comforted by the hope of new life by this bloom. I thought, what beauty to decide to bloom in the middle of a pandemic, perhaps just to bring comfort and weep with us too.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2020
<>

sometimes I weep gratitude:


when
you send a poem my way
that wrenches this old heart
in ways that believed were
no longer possible. weep.

eyes see your word images in actual physicality,
me, shedding cells and real tears, musing,
easier is good work that originates in all
new things beautiful, freshly created,
repairing old.^

despair for those who know not this sensing,
weep for yourselves, that I cannot
sway and assuage you, with quality words
that harbor both of us, in mutuality.

call in of reinforcements, sharing a single dock,
visions of rocking together in the wakes of others,
if when you should ever think of me,
think this,
your words are my comforter wake,
gentling my rocking quaking.

sometimes,
my weeping is but
the noise of desperation,
being washed away by the sound of
gratitude weeping


<>


Thu Aug 20ย ย 2020
8:36am
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3998880/sometimes-i-weep-gratitude/

precious everything:    awake, morning chores, no worry, wonโ€™t bore you, someone else, tv turns on, claptrap commences, plead with myself for music, a poem, any escape from the horrors of reality, the worldโ€™s self inflicted  afflictions, the tv talkers accuse me of complicity,  by merely existing, and not sending โ€œthemโ€ money to wage their war, and line their pockets, and I passed the weeping point, freely acknowledge this ainโ€™t much of a poem, not even a rant, just an accumulation of worries, mine lesser than most, yet finding breathing hard, harder than the lungs say is necessary, the future  like lead bells around my neck, bent, and I age ten years in precious seconds, when dare I contemplate how the grandchildren will survive, s u r v i v e, much more than how mine will unwind for my own currency is spent, used...then you send me a new poem and I weep with fresh gratitude for this new, one more day. nml.
Nidhi Jaiswal Aug 2020
I weep daily............
Not
Due
To
My
Pain.
But,
After weeping i feel so much relief
of
Burden.

I feel so much relief after weeping..Weeping is need to be strong one.
It's also an exercise to remove extra burden of mind,after weep we feel in relief.
Thanks for reading my opinion.
Lane O Jul 2020
Oh, young sunflower!
facing east towards the Sun.
You follow her for hours,
till dusk when day's done.
Her light shines bright;
colors -- vivid and deep.
But when her light ebbs
do you droop and weep?
Cody Haag Apr 2020
A smile is on my lips,
While a hole is in my soul;
I'll laugh for the moment,
But cry when I'm alone.

My mask is perfect,
Deceiving all who see.
They think I am content,
Cannot hear my silent plea.

If I am hurting,
You will never know.
My mask is unwavering,
Blow after blow.
Dez Apr 2020
Reach but you shall not attain
The glory of a great writer
Never will I gain
For I write but I am not a writer
So I only feign
And now I weep for I can not be a writer
All my work is mundane
But I desire to be a writer
And will continue to go through the pain
Though I will never reach the hightโ€™s of a writer
I will go until I wane though all call me insane
All to be a writer
All to be a writer
I write but I am not a writer
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