#flexibility
Everyone knows children are usually pure of heart
Moreover, their creativity is almost impossible to beat
So, we should listen to the child within us
Let flow a vast pool of ideas
Pouring back and forth from every corner of the mind
Remember, a child is most willing to bend
This allows him/her to think out of the box
Thereby significantly increasing the chances of success
We must be free and secure, like a child
Even when we grow old
This way, we can always be happy
Even when we don't get our way
Which will happen a number of times
An adult mind is complex
Which often leads him/her to overthink
And once we begin to overthink
We will get trapped in a vicious circle
And in our demons' court, will be the ball
Thus, we will be in a perennial state of anxiety
Even if we embody honesty and integrity
Hence, it is important to encourage the child within us
And follow our instincts
Well, maybe not all the time
But at least from time to time
Because, the child represents freedom
An escape from boredom
And most importantly, flexibility
Which leads to more positivity
And helps get ride of the clutter in our minds
So essential for achieving inner peace
Hence, I will say it once and for all
In the child's court, should be the ball!
Mar 19, 2025
Mar 19, 2025 at 11:41 AM UTC
Expectation destroys everything
All of you should know that
After all, I am a human being
Not an AI-programmed robot
How much can I manage at a time?
You expect me to work
And aggressively at that
Handling five mandates at a time
When you very well know
That even three is not a walk in the park
You expect me to exercise
When I barely have time to complete my work
And on top of that
You expect me to eat
You expect me to drink
And you expect me to sleep
Like every other human being
Do you even hear yourself?
Expectation destroys everything
What do you get
When you expect too much from people?
Disappointment
Do you really want that?
I repeat, I am a human being
Not an AI-programmed robot
Put yourself in my shoes
And see if you can achieve
What you're expecting me to achieve
Of course, you love to say
That I need to be flexible
Well, I certainly do my best
But you need to know
That, sometimes, even your best is not enough
When you're up against time
Because time is not flexible
And will never be
Expectation destroys everything
I hope you will realise this some day
Because, if you don't
Then it will be your loss, not mine
Until then, here's to expecting
And getting disappointed
Apr 22, 2022
Apr 22, 2022 at 12:05 PM UTC
Somewhere
in the green meadows,
A young twig asked
What happens to those
who do not bend?
They break apart
- A Willow tree replied.
Dec 19, 2020
Dec 19, 2020 at 6:23 PM UTC
The house is built
on posts and beams.
Thick, hand-hewn posts of local cedar,
the beams as big crossing space,
held together by a single peg
since the early nineteenth century.
You’d not know it’s age to look at it.
Windows have been replaced.
Walls torn asunder and replaced.
There is plaster and electricity,
all the modern conveniences.
But in the end,
it is post and beam.
Incredibly, solidly constructed
in such a way that space is spanned
and everything between and underneath
can be ripped out and replaced,
renewed and reworked,
becoming new again
without losing its strength.
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 9:53 AM UTC
It is a room of chairs.
Their thin spindles let the light through,
visually almost invisible,
easy to move about the room,
to reconfigure as people come and go,
with no sense of mass or weight,
always room for one more, one less,
a different sort of life,
one that allows for constant change,
ebb and flow,
never too much,
never too little,
a shape-shifting goldilocks kind of room.
You feel strangely at home here,
an older version of Alice in Wonderland,
never quite yourself,
never quite what others expect,
never quite fitting in,
at least not in the way you expected.
The world has not made room for you.
You are tolerated
as long as you re-arrange your furniture
in the proper way
in the proper time.
Your eyes soak in the room,
so airy and bright,
and settle into a chair.
There is no one here but you
and the woman you love,
and it matters not where the chairs are
as long as there are two together.
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 11:59 AM UTC
I am not very good at saying no to people,
or at being firm and direct with my patients at work.
I am soft and mandible.
I tend to let people take advantage of me.
My physical therapist says the people with the most problems
with their hips and backs are
the ones that can
hardly bend at all or
that can
bend too much.
I am too flexible.
So much so that it is hurting me.
I fold and I fold and I fold
in on myself like origami and
I let people do whatever they want.
I can't remember if I've always been this way or not.
Maybe it depends on how you look at it:
The woman in the casket could either be sleeping or dead. She could either be a stranger or my mother. This could either be the bright, multi-color, kaleidoscopic shapes I see when I rub my eyes a bit too hard for a bit too long, or it could be the dull, grey morgue her body was wheeled down to after they tied the tag around her toe and zipped her into a white bag. This could either hurt a lot or a little. It depends on how much you let in. How willing you are to bend to the emotional blow. I could either stop writing about this or keep going, but it's been, what, nine years now, and I haven't been able to stop yet—
only able to bend and
bend
and
bend
and
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
I feel the cool breeze
dance across my shoulders
and wisp through my hair
welcome at first-
sending a shiver down my spine
not unwanted, but shocking
A break from the saturated heat
nature plays a joke on us all
keeping us on our toes
and flexible to change-
a good lesson to be learned
the lovely winter in June
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 10:58 PM UTC
the turns of life
are many
few of them
we have foreseen or planned
yet somehow we have managed
to survive
to tell a tale
of useful flexibility
and luck
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 6:58 PM UTC
an enduring cypress
immortal knotted rings
until death
two as one
held breath
a contorted filbert
purple catkins bring to flower
deeply rooted visions
creativity, awareness, knowledge
enlightened fruition
a variegated willow
to drink up sorrow's rain
in tolerance we bend
but not to point
of breaking
three trees
foretell a future
laced with little deaths
cypress, filbert, willow
lest we should forget
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
Flexibility is the presence of structure
In the absence of rigidity.
Like the valves in my veins
That keep my blood flowing in the
Right direction.
As limber beings we can sway and bend without snapping.
Even under intense pressure,
We are able to return to normal
When we call upon our inner strength.
Our minds, like muscles,
Must be consistently stretched and tested
To remain pliable.
Allowing us to become more accepting of ourselves and others.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
Scientists have discoverd
the same flexibiliy in thoughts
that leads to creativity;
can also lead in some individuals
to mental illness.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 3:05 AM UTC
They're feverish with desire
Eclipsed in love
Raging like a black smoke fire
****** scents rising above
The pheromones they release
Must be smelled miles away
They've missed this, the tease
And liquid glances, it's been days
Since, either have touched the other
But they still feel that ****** tension
On every inch of their skin
When they're finally away from prying eyes
Their lips mesh, his hands move to her thighs
And hers slide up through his hair
Gripping on tight
They could be spotted, but neither cares
He pushes her hard against the wall
Bringing her legs around his hips
She thanks heaven she wore a skirt
And quiets a moan by devouring his lips
He quickly, fervently unzips his jeans
Releasing himself and promptly
Entering her sweet, wet heat
He groans as he swallows her scream
Then pounds in hard, fast, ferociously
She rocks her hips with a delicious little motion
Squeezing her core tight, biting his lips
Coming almost instantly when he growls with delight
He thrusts harder, incessantly feeling her getting tight
Moving her ankles to rest on his shoulders
He delves his shaft as deep inside as he can reach
She scratches scars along his back
And they kiss so deep like it's the final feast
She throbs in her core as another wave hits at full force
Starts going weak as she comes once more
Feeling her liquid pour, brings him to the edge
He grips her ankles stretching the limits of her flexibility
Then roars into her sweet mouth as he comes, vigorously
He lets her legs go, but holds her upright
They both sigh knowing it's the beginning of the night,
And that was just a quickie
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC