#underappreciated
i am all the days they choose to ignore
i am worthy
i am kind
i am soft
i am loving
please please please choose me
don’t ignore me
i have something to offer
look at me please
just
take
a
look
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 1:52 PM UTC
In the absence of attention
Even from my parents...
In the absence of validation
Even from my friends...
In the absence of appreciation
Even from my colleagues...
This zombie I've become—
The Ghost of Creativity...
Feb 7, 2025
Feb 7, 2025 at 1:29 PM UTC
- for patty m(mombo)
who will be laughing
out loud, spilling her sippin’ coffee~
after she reads this~
woke up o f f c i a l l y “fully rested”
per the devices that monitor the body,
hoping
that’s all they do, unless they are
writing this?
don’t think but can’t be sure,
cause the poems planted here,
were seedlings elsewhere, and
the Gatherers, my senses, be working
overtime
as we (me & them) trapse
through life picking up the discards,
of songs. tv pundits, (see title!)
overheard snippets of street
conversations,
your poems & comments,
(as I walk among you)
almost everywhere,
anytime
anyhow,
to add
days to
my life span
because
the poem notions
hit me so fast,
hanging fruitfully
needy
for picking, need
more time to love
them so fulsomely
so maybe one or two
are Rem insertions by
my Apple watch, but
not many cause I write
in a funny style!
my son asked AI to write
poems in the manner of
his dad, and it replied,
“can’t help, his poems are
too weird, not reproduceable,
borderline crazy(!!!!);”
give us someone easier
like Whitman or Plath
or Leonard C., no problem
doing dat”
so this poem was an off chance remak,
heard in passing by my digesting ears,
and like Noah’s Ark,
loaded up with alphabets 2 x 2,
set sail to your receptors to bark at ya
awake baby
with hopes
that you rise and read this,
laugh way
out loud,
and suddenly you tutu,
feeling well-reset, rested and very
a very,
moderate modicum more
appreciated enuf
nml
Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 11:31 AM UTC
Her hands were busy making coffee
The cafe her home as much as her work place
Idle hands is a disastrous plan
Time unproductive is time wasted
This much, she understands
She is ever efficient in the kitchen
Wash, dry, put away, organise
A worker's favourite routine memorised
Her hands are making coffee for a patron
They take the coffee without saying hi
The honest hard work of the waitress
Gets ignored time after time
Sep 21, 2021
Sep 21, 2021 at 10:21 PM UTC
and i ache just thinking about it
all those times i needed you and you walked right out the door.
all the soft and tender midnight words i dreamed you had whispered in my ears that were soon replaced with cold lifeless ones.
and i ache
i ache for all the times my heart skipped a beat just to get thrown down the stairs
i ache remembering all those nights that i would lie awake
alone.
right next to you.
begging
to be touched
to be looked at
to be held
to be seen
to be felt
in all the throbbing places
inside of
me
just one little kiss
one kind word
a moment of softness
some sort of mercy
and i ache. i shiver and shake
i cry and wonder when i’ll get a break
i cry and wonder when i’ll get a break.
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 1:50 AM UTC
i'm overwhelmed. overworked. under appreciated.
the work of people like her goes unnoticed. she feels as if everyone's under the spell of a lotus. all she wishes is that everyone could focus.
focus on the ups and the downs. the ins and the outs.
the work of people like her goes unnoticed.
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 11:35 PM UTC
You are more
Beautiful
More brilliant
Reminiscent of stars
And librarians
With their glasses
Hooked on strings
And yet I am
Here
Wait for you
To notice me
To find me
To love
Something
About me
And you speak to me
And post your
Little
Self deprecating
Harmful
Hurtful
Thoughts
Of how you’re
Unloved and alone
The room
You’ve locked yourself
In
Is shut
Unopened
Do not disturb
With walls lined
In black
But with
The light off
And your hands
Over your
Beautiful
Wide
Tear-filled eyes
You fail
To see me
Wanting to
Love you
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 11:26 AM UTC
I am the lion
That leads his pack with pride and honour
Who protects his loved ones
I am the pillar
That supports every building formed upon it
It would never let them fall
I am the buoy
That does its best to save every life
It will pull you away from danger
I am the joker
Who laughs the most under the ridiculous
Who makes sure you stay happy
*I am the cub
Helpless to the wondering hyenas
I am the tiles on the floor
Supporting weights and lifting hearts
I am the anchor
Sinking to the bottom of the sea
I am the broken
Laughters lost, tears overflowing*
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 5:23 AM UTC
What would it take to get on that level?
I've done so much.
Been there.
I'd do anything.
And all I want in return is to be thought of,
To be on that level, too.
And to not be taken for granted, ever.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
I must say
those of arts
writers and painters
so often trivialized
too often
how ironic then
for those who sweep us under
since we--
of words and lines
however similar or not
--are not the ones at expense.
Where's the magic
neither seen nor experienced
in reality,
and where's the escape
from your homes of present
but from us?
the minds who labor away
without showing
but upon the page, sheet or canvas.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC