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Nyaluelit Kuoth Sep 2021
What’s the best thing in the world?
A fine wine in a short glass.
A fool places it on the shelf for tomorrow.
A wise person gets drunk now and is rid of sorrow.
Nyaluelit Kuoth Mar 2021
In this loud world,
....will my silent love be heard.

if not you, who will remember me,
Nyaluelit Kuoth Jan 2021
I used up all the joy I could find as a wrap; and gifted you my best days as you departed.
Hard to lose the one you love...but loving them even as the leave is important.
Nyaluelit Kuoth Jan 2021
some religious folks,
say when we die blah blah. Is a long story.

other folks, intellectuals,
have theories that when we die, we die. The end of the story.

On a fateful day, a child is alone. feeling sorry.

older folks are in deep despair and weary.

tears keeps you from seeing clearly.

open your eyes and be bold in your query.

Is it that we fear death, or that any new form of freedom is scary?

To my mother, Nyahnial Paul Gak Deng.

Short poems.
some days I just want answers and other days am simply grateful to be alive ahaha.
Nyaluelit Kuoth Nov 2020
if you are to love,
Love as the sun loves.
It pours its warmth on you;
like a mother’s embrace.

L. Kuoth 2020
First two  lines  inspired by another writer 💛
Nyaluelit Kuoth Apr 2020
it arrives
when you least expected it
a violent rush of adrenalin, throws
me of guard, I hit the ground
slowly, I rise.
sitting down, back pressed
hard against a wall,
slowly, I adjust.
a tear, forced into the back
of an eyelid, black don’t cry
black woman don’t cry
it’s just wrong.
So, I didn’t cry, that day
when you departed
my love,
I let fear in,
when it arrive.
it gather at the pit
of my stomach
my love,
these days,
i’ve built a home
with no doors,
only a shoe

poem by #LizzyKuoth
#tomygrandma #2020
Feeling missing.
Nyaluelit Kuoth Jul 2018
I knew it was you
the humble and the companionate
the inspired by love
sending a wave of appreciation
descending from the Thalamus
to the pigment of my Iris
Seeing you pass by
I hid my sorrows under my eyelids
You poked both eyes gently, 
My closed eyes, mine and their secrets  
Opening up to you, and I can feel
my tears falling down, one by one
like a flimsy leaf
gathering at the ******
street corners of a heart
that have no homes, not even
a room for a guest
or a ‘welcome’ mat

a deep voice, came from within
    saying to happiness
‘visitors are not welcome’
                    some of us are
content with the sadness
      because at least, the blues
               never departed,
                   since it first  
I’m trying to express how..often **** events stay for days, or months and or years as opposed to happier experiences...for some feels like a visitor like peace isn’t meant to live within us..always leaving more room for chaos
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