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 Oct 2020 April
Salmabanu Hatim
Little candles can light darkness,
Little hugs can dry big tears,
Little kindness can bring lots of joy to others,
And little smiles can brighten someone's day.
Why do we laugh and why do we cry
Please tell me why
Why are we kind and angry at times
Please tell me why.
Why are we happy and why are we sad
Please tell me why.
Why do we love and why do we hate
Please tell me why.
Why is there faith and why is there none
Please tell me why.
Why do we live and why do we die
Can you please tell me why.
If there are no answers to the Questions I ask
Please tell me why.
What is the meaning of life
Why are we here.
The Questions go on.
I love to watch the honeybees
With there gentle tiny wings
It is lovely to see birds in trees
And to listen to the way they sing.

I love to watch the ducks in water
Paddling along with there young in line
They walk on roads and never falter
Oblivious to this thing called time.

I love to hear the seagulls sguarking
When walking along a sandy beach
Making such noise when we are talking
But they don't care they are out of reach.

I love to see the red red robin
A single bird that never fly's with a swarm
I love to watch them hop hop hopping
At winter time whilst I'm in the warm.

I love to watch  the butterflies
In colour with there distinctive features
And see them when they multiply
Along with those beautiful heavenly creatures.
Another morning in my garden with birds of every kind
A simple poem .although not so much the honeybees and butterflies
I just thought they were applicable to this poem.
 Sep 2018 April
Spruha Dhamange
In the world of lines and curves,
I was questioned at the doorstep,
"Are you a line or a curve?",
I decided I was a curve, and they let me in in the group of curves.
Somebody asked, "Why is your curve not curvier? You must go to the lines instead."
I said, "Fair enough", and moved over to the group of lines.
Somebody said again, "You are too crooked to be a line. Go away!"
Disappointed, I realized I had nowhere to go.
There was no group for me. I was a curvy, crooked line.
I was a "******".

Along came a curve, and a line,
They were curious of what it would mean to push their boundaries.
So I asked them to hold hands.
And suddenly I realized I was not alone.
I held their hands too, and we were transformed,
We wriggled and jiggled, and broke our molds,
And formed a perfect circle.
From our imperfections.
Now I belonged somewhere.
And I am not a "******" anymore.
 Sep 2018 April
andromeda green
Are you okay?
Are you alright, are you fine, are you good?
Are you adequate, are you decent?
Are you emotionally stable, sleeping without crying, smiling because you want to?
Are you breathing without questioning, are you waking up without trying, are you eating without throwing up?
Are you reading this poem right now and thinking no?
Are you thinking for the first time, will I ever be okay?

You will be okay.
You will be alright, you will be fine, you will be good.
You will be adequate, you will be decent.
You will be emotionally stable, you will sleep without crying, and smile for the happiness blooming inside of you.
You will breathe without questioning, you will wake up to a new day, you will eat easily
are going to be okay.
So please smile sunshine
It’s a fine new day
To be okay :)

- a.g.
just a reminder that everything gets better folks. please, please hang in there. i believe in each and one of y'all.

UPDATE: thank you so so so much for 51k. the overwhelming amount of comments and messages and loves make me feel so happy to spread this poem. thank you.
 Sep 2018 April
Em MacKenzie
The talking heads used to sing a lullaby
now everyone dreads when they even sigh.
Creating static that no hands could hope to block out
hiding in the attic but the sealing’s peeled and so has the grout.

I can’t bear to hear another word
of resentment that is undeserved,
even the slightest breath of air
is a kin to irritation I can’t compare.

The talking heads used to compose magic
but now their frowns illuminate something tragic.
A life that pushes me out of place,
my skin, my heart and soul; a waste.

If you’re questioning what these words mean
while you’re reading them on an LED screen
you’ve yet to experience silence’s bliss,
when you do you’ll see it’s something to miss.
Noise cancellation fails the trial,
cars honk and phones dial,
I remember the sound of just the breeze
of damp grass and brushing knees.

The talking heads trapped in my ear
never seem to want to stop.
Telling me all I don’t want to hear,
I beg and plead but each topic they won’t drop

I can’t bear to hear another word
of resentment that is undeserved,
even the slightest hint of a sigh
is too much of an attempt to pry.
Wish it could be about the band, but it isn’t.
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