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At 8:30 this morning I was still hopeful. I still had a chance. It was possible. It was mine.

An hour later "We regret to inform you..."

An hour later it was over. the 4 months of waiting for absolutely nothing was over. "Excellent pool of candidates..."

I wondered if that made me less excellent. "highly competitive and qualified..."

Was I not qualified? I replayed my application over and over in my head and it sounded like it was mine.

"Oh, it was national" says my father.

Maybe I'm only qualified when it comes to Wisconsin, because the same thing happened to me at Regionals... Somewhere in America there is someone better equipped for your dream.

"We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors"
    Well, what if I have no luck left? What if I'm not excellent enough?

What if I'm not qualified enough?
What if I'm not deserving enough?

Then I look over my Journalism application. 120 spots.
120 qualified people out of a pool of who knows how many.
My morning made me feel unqualified as if there was a slim chance I could possibly obtain anything I truly wanted.

Then there's Beyonce and Jay-Z tickets everyone is raving about, but I'm in a stand still because I have **** I need to do. I have dreams that money actually can buy. So while everyone is raving about concert tickets,
I'm at a standstill wondering how in the hell will I afford to make my dreams come true when Beyonce could've made them happen 100 times over and then some...

Feeling unlucky, unwealthy, and under qualified

Then a friend tells me "cast your anxiety upon the lord"

Deep breath in.

Exhale. Something greater is coming my way.
preservationman Apr 2019
Certified and Qualified
Talent in demand
Presenting one’s personal standards
At interviews, applicants are put too the test
But I often wonder do Interviewers take candidate’s words for less
Now the Interviewer is looking for “Certified and Qualified”
The Resume speaks in advance of what the candidate has accomplished
That’s obvious
Then it is up to the interviewer after reviewing the Resume in scheduling Face to Face meeting
Candidates do have the training and standards
But it seems Interviewer’s state company standards
But if there is a correlation, you already meet the objective
If you didn’t meet and your Resume says you do, why sudden change on the Interviewer’s part
Yet most of the time, Race is a factor on qualifications
It shouldn’t, but often is
However, a company will say they are an Equal Opportunity Employer
That means Equality for all
If Race comes into play, how is that Equal?
One’s Resume states what the candidate has achieved based on ability being merit
Two words that stand out, “Marketable and Commodity”
But why do interviewing questions be asked to one Ethnic Group but not another
One’s Resume will state Qualified in the Interviewer’s eyes
But personal feelings being spite
The Resume is the first Representation, and one on one meeting being the second
But with all one’s training and experience makes an candidate in the interviewer’s theory of overqualified
What makes a candidate Overqualified and Qualified?
If you were to ask the interviewer, there wouldn’t be a precise answer or perhaps no answer at all
Certified and Qualified
But if the salary doesn’t compensate
Obviously, the interviewer doesn’t want to negotiate with a compensate
The qualifications after that doesn’t lead to appreciate
The candidate still has an accomplished Resume
Certified and Qualified.
jeffrey conyers Dec 2012
If there's an opening in your heart.
That needs to be filled.
Know this.
I'm more than qualified to fulfill it.

My qualifications speaks for themselves.
From my understanding.
From the compassion of my heart.
I'm more than qualified to love you.

Believe this.
Then realize and take notes.
You can't deny it.
I'm more than qualified.

Now, this might be what gets me off the list.

Somethings that's good for us.
We mistreats it.
Leading us later to come to regret it.

Now that I have applied.
Take all my information aside.
And then decide if I meet your qualification.

Cause I'm more than qualified.
the anguish of this agonised arena

where black angels

roam delusional paranoia

a commitment to life

a responsibility to death

an obedience to immense solitudes

of anticipation generated by inspirational charge

an agony of imagined dreams

found in missing time

the unattainable that no longer exists

an unrealized reality

oh the anguish of this agonised arena

this continuous invocation of other

of I of me of we

a great elucidation of emotional chaos

the outer geography of my imagination

where all is led bare

and i see the black shadow of light

qualified, qualified, qualified
Brie Dec 2014
Stabbed by words so deep you sink and drown in your own blood
because you've cried out all of your tears.
Truth so lost almost impossible to be found
Bleeding away your cares
Is this an expression for two?
and when you speak the truth people wonder,
"Am I speaking to the crazy or the sane side of you?"
They say you need help from a professional.
Does this mean that I need to seek help from someone who has experienced my situation
or Some one who is only qualified to deem me insane with their education
Getting payed to pass judgement on my minds creation
Limiting to a life of medication
You're giving people jobs they are not qualified for
So I fake like I take your pills
And walk out the door
No offense but I don't take poison from people who have never been insane before
jeffrey conyers Apr 2016
You picked.
Yes, you selected the one you want to love.
Than suddenly found out I was the most qualified.

He had the looks.
He had the charm.
But he lack the love you needed the most of all.
And when you look back you see that i'm the most qualified.

Oh, I knew it.
Deep within I wanted to pursue it.
But who likes to be second best?
Let alone the one you want to select now.

Sure it's pride speaking.
But you deserve to hear this truth.
Cause this best man has now moved onto someone new.

Just take in to your mind.
At that time of selection.
I was the most qualified.
Carla Marie Sep 2014
while it is understood...
and probably
goes without saying
that everyone
as the saying goes
is a critic
most self appointed reviewers
fail to realize that

Poetry exists in the mind
belonging to the thinking subject... rather than
to the object of thought

Poetry is personal... placing emphasis on one's own moods
and attitudes... funky or otherwise...

you love it...
or you hate it...
you read it...
or you do not read it...
it does nothing to you.. or
hits a sweet spot
ignites or dampens a fire
permeates the soul
takes root... and
stays with you
for such a time as it is needed
to brighten your day...
luxuriate in solitude...
commemorate a love... or
accentuate a hate

is abstract... illusory... instinctive... relative
to where one is at the time...
and therefore
not open to
editorial examination...
or critique

...I'm just sayin
Arlene Corwin Jul 2016
Qualified Abstinence

I’ve decided - though not wholly -
As of morning’s bath - to put on hold
The daily custom, habit’s viewing -
NCIS, Dr Phil - suspecting as I do
That they are doing me some harm
Engaging, charming
                                 as they are.

Mind as thought and mind as stomach,
Turn to worry, churn with fear
As states of things in world and home,
Play out the clearer,
Signs maturing in their chaos,
Ever growing, ever baiting;
Making brilliant, analytical dear Phil
Ever more mouth-watering.
Well-loved NCIS plays its part,
Portraying nations torn apart
With ever cleverer technologies
And cleverer–type baddies
Getting ‘theirs’ from even smarter good guys.

If then, strong enough to not back off,
The morning TV staying off,
Then maybe, only maybe
This old belly
Can restore its tranquil peristalsis,
Family squabbles turning babble to a kiss.
Phil, dear Phil, continue to be wise and kind!
NCIS’ cast: brave, cuddly and seasoned -
Flag unfurled, continue to engage yourselves
In world salvation!
Stationing my thoughts in action,
I must leave you both
To carry myself into truth
As cellular Arlene conceives, perceives,
Inherently achieves it.
(If, of course, l don’t fall back into the -
(crude, ill-mannered rude word)  ****!

Qualified Abstinence 7.20.2014
Pure Nakedness; Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
arlene corwin
I woke one morning thinking, I think I've had enough.  The poem is self-explanatory.  I've even put it into my collection called "Pure Nakedness"
Marlin Huang Aug 2017
My mom used to tell me when I was a kid
that thank you note is important.
To let people know that you're thankful,
and appreciate their efforts.
As I grow older,
I'm so used on writing thank you notes
with the same template on every note.
But I, or we, tend to forget to write one
for those who cope with our lives.
So I wrote this one is for you.

Thank you for letting me crash in your place
when I was far from sober,
almost on every Friday nights.
You literally picked me up when I'm down.
On the grown.

Thank you for staying up with me until 5
even when you got a big meeting
at 8 in the morning.
Because you know how much I hate sleeping,
but I'll be the bitchiest *****
if you try to wake me up.

Thank you for bringing me a bouquet
of fake flowers
instead of the real one.
You sure know me way too well
to know that I can't keep real flowers alive.
Or cactus, or fishes, or my phone's battery.
Yea, my phone's battery *****.
But you trust me to keep what we have, alive.
And lasts as long as it possibly could.

Thank you for making every queue line
less boring with all your dad jokes,
they made me think that
you're a qualified good father
to your future kids.
Or maybe ours.
But I hate children and you love them,
as much as I hate karaoke
and as much as you love it.
But gosh, you made me think of adopting.

We are nothing but night and day.
A thunderstorm and a rainbow.
A cactus and a peony.
A manageable chaos and
a managed you.
And yet we compliment each other like
peanut butter and pickle on a sandwich.
Sure, it's one of the weirdest combination
but somehow it goes surprisingly fine.

I swear I'm not going to make this cheesy
but if it was, well,
I know this is not what you imagine
to be with me
in the first place
when you slipped into my life.
But I thank you,
for deciding to stay.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
the concept of money, a dualism of value and devaluation, was based upon the worth of what darwinism could say about that monkey statement: you scratch my back, i scratch your. darwinism is a failure in terms of economics, that great human get-together, let's congregate, and instead of a stampede of buffalo we'll have ourselves a revolution... the failure of the monetary system: an invisible shining of gold is the fact that gold was once valued and now is devalued, money is a very serious virus, it requires something new to make it an asset, and something old to make it devalue it (a non-asset)... money is also a way to say: you be a plumber for me, while i be your middle-classed opinion making machine paying you, there's no monkey scratches another monkey's back in this story... money is the only invisible object that wants to intertwine so many others in its spider-web...  just so it can make itself visible, money added to gold will only be seen via the madness of thrór (throor).*

for now most of us are literate,
and by literacy
we are told to plough
the great genetically modified
fields of vegetables...
we've been made literate
but by the same acquisition
of literacy, the old powers
which once laid sway to this
monopoly have left its powers,
and instead of those to tend to
arable land we are left with
poets... we have become
straitjacket bound to the blank
pages... once the expression
of the mountain of muscles
which left us thoughtless...
now the work be eased,
and our body's harsh expression
of mandibles b forgotten...
and how we search for the same
expression of labour...
to have thought labour be exchanged
into equal labour of thought...
like muslims favouring
the elemental intoxication via the
element of air and its burned weeds,
discriminating with the element of
water and alcohol...
but we have been deceived in
being given such sudden literacy,
when literacy monopolised for so
long a status of power...
and because there's no field to plough
and live naturally, exhausted,
we've seen to be living by a new plough,
bishops and knights of the new order,
the legions of psychiatrists...
the stiff air of rooms with brimming
sulphur awaiting... no free air
of the field and strength of ploughing...
for ploughing can be quantified
with eager hands and hungry and emptied
bellies... but how quantify thought?
why... you'll only quantify thought
by a failing... and leave the quality of thought
to the ones reigning the quantification of it,
and the quantification of it
leads to nonsense or nothing,
akin to the ones qualified to
think, not the ones quantified
to do so in think-tanks
and political parties:
why then gollum invisible and sauron visible
wearing the ring in the narrated depiction?
well... apparently, the question aside:
we're not qualified to think,
because our "thought" is quantifiable
as soldier, baker, banker, spy...
but it's qualified to be an expectation
of a non-quantifiable thinking
which de-qualifies it from an original
intention, the intended quantifiable,
which leaves the existence of quantum physics
the deity of two humanisms arguing
on the simpler geographic, i.e. spelling:
quantity v. quality: both qua (as being),
far far away from what i said to an
anaesthetist having my wisdom teeth pulled out,
saying: quo vadis?
i guess it would make sense to have simply said:
qua quo non vadis esse omnis verax
(as being, as going, nowhere to be honest,
in all honesty).
RH 78 Feb 2015
The giraffe and the mouse lived in a big tall house.
The mouse asked giraffe "do I make you laugh?"
In response to the mouse, the giraffe said "no"
"How can I laugh when you're close to my toe?"
"Close to your toe?" Said the mouse "but why?
Giraffe looked down and began to cry.
"It's a long story mouse" giraffe cried in despair.
"I'm all ears" said mouse and he pulled up a chair.
"To cut a long story short I've got an in growing nail"
"Oh" said mouse with a flick of his tail.
"Leave it to me I'll be back in a minute"
He brought back a kit with some first aid in it.
"Lift up your foot" and mouse set to work.
Giraffe raised his leg trying not to ****.
Mouse fixed the nail in no time at all
Giraffe was impressed by mouse so small!
"How did you do it?" Asked  giraffe in disbelief
Mouse just wiped his brow with a handkerchief.
"While I'm down here giraffe is there anything I've missed?"
"After all...
                   I'm the one and only....

Qualified rodent chiropodist!"
Aoife Mairéad Feb 2013
Dear Miss *,
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we do not have space for you at our company.
Xxxx xxxxxxxx

Dear Miss
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we cannot offer you a place with our company as you are under qualified.
Yours ** xxxxx

Dear Miss
Thank you for your application. We regret to inform you that you are over-qualified for the position.
Yours,  xxxxxxx ***

Dear Miss *,
I don’t think so love. This isn’t even a letter, this is my managerial position on you handing me your cv.
Cheers, bahbye now

Dear Miss
This isn’t really a letter either, but despite how un-pc this is, we can’t hire you due to your gender.
Thanks anyway, save your paper.

Dear Miss
Thank you for your application, unfortunately we had stronger applicants.
Yours, etc.,  aaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaa

Dear Miss *,
Thank you for your application. Unfortunately we are not hiring at the moment even though we had advertised the job you applied for.
Yours, xxxxxxxxx xxxxx

Dear Miss
We had left it between you and another applicant, and couldn’t decide so we flipped a coin, and she won. You’re a lovely girl though.
Yours, fffffff ffff fffff

Dear Miss *,
I refer to your claim for Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance at VVVVVV’s CCCCCC local office. Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance claims are subject to periodic review, consequently, I would appreciate if you would attend this office for interview on the 31/17/78 and bring the following :
1. Proof of Identity (i.e. Passport or Driving Licence or Long version of your Birth Certificate)
2.  Proof of Residency (e.g. Letter from landlord/ Rent Book/ Lease/ Mortgage Receipt/ Letter from Parents + Household Bill)
3. Written Proof of recent job applications and replies.
4. Proof of job applications made through FAS
5. FAS courses applied for.
6. A copy of your Curriculum Vitae (CV): unemployed from
7. If your spouse/partner is an adult dependent on your claim, please bring his/her GNIB and Passport/Travel Documents.
Failure to respond to this letter may lead to suspension or disallowance of claim.
Yours sincerely,
* *
Local Officer
Tina ford Feb 2014
This contains swearwords!!!!

Do you know what it’s like to be on the dole?
The giro, the social, the rock and roll,
Well I’m tellin you now, that it’s no laff,
No heat or food, round at my gaff,

I can’t pay the bills on fifty three quid,
This is how I live; I’m tellin ye kid,
No Lecky, or water, or comfy bed,
Nowhere to lay my educated head,

You’s think I’m brewsted on state benefit,
Well I’m tellin ye now, life is ****,
No jobs are goin in my town,
This whole ****** country is goin down,

I look every day for a job to do,
Over qualified under qualified, scew you,
I’d brush your path, deliver your dinner,
My options for work get thinner and thinner,

But we get the blame for the country’s debt,
And seen in your eyes as a useless get,
We are not scroungers and living like kings,
We can’t afford the simple things,

We can’t take our kids to Blackpool pier,
Or to the fair, it’s just too dear,
It’s not our fault the system let us down,
Schooling was crap, but I got a cap and gown,

So don’t look at me, like I’m ****,
I’ve bettered meself to get out of this pit,
I’m clever and proud and I stand tall,
I make something out of nothing, coz I’ve got **** all,

You won’t tread us down, yeah that’s right,
We got fire in our bellies and where ready to fight,
We’re not greedy for a fancy lifestyle.
The simple things make us smile,

So quit avin a go, at our worlds apart,
I’m scouse and proud, with a lions heart,
So live well in your mansion, apartment, or detached,
Coz were the generation that Maggie hatched,

Yeah that’s right were Maggie’s crew,
The under privileged, not like you,
Time to step up the Cameron’s and Clegg’s,
Coz you’ve sat long enough on Thatcher’s eggs.

Tina Ford
Maura Nov 2016
I want to believe things get better
simply because I have a loving boyfriend and father
but then I hear about the guys that use and abuse my friends
and look who's our future president

I want to believe sexism will go away
but Mr. President proves it's here to stay
objectifying women is normal and totally okay
not even the most qualified women could beat this man
all she did was make plan after plan
but don't you know a women's always beat by a man
Ember Evanescent Dec 2014
How to cook a gourmet (whatever the hell that means) dinner:

Step 1: Send your boyfriend a text inviting him over for a romantic, candlelit home-cooked gourmet dinner.

Step 2: Remember that you are forever alone and don’t have a boyfriend.

Step 3: Go buy mass amounts of chocolate and cry about it.

Step 4: Get over it and invite over your grandmother instead.

Step 5: Preheat the oven to 975 degrees

Step 6: Freak out about the fire in your oven and turn it off.

Step 7: Open all your doors to let the smoke out.

Step 8: Get out all the ingredients you need for the recipe you are

Step 9: End up eating most of the ingredients before you even get to
use them.

Step 10: Spill oil and wine all over your recipe book (umm pffft the
wine is TOTALLY one of the ingredients, that’s why you had it out… heh heh… yeah…)

Step 11: Panic and try to dry it off by taking the book outside and waving it around.

Step 12: Watch in horror as all the pages in your book tear and fly off
into the wind.

Step 13: Chase hopelessly after the pages down the block screaming
swear words and having a heart attack.

Step 14: Politely smile and wave awkwardly at your neighbour who
hates you.

Step 15: Yell an apology across the street to that other neighbour who
REALLY doesn’t like you with the little five year old daughter who is
now repeating all of your colorful vocabulary words you just yelled.

Step 16: Reluctantly accept the fact that your recipes are gone. And also
that you have just contributed to the global problem of littering the

Step 17: Walk back to your smoke-scented house in shame.

Step 18: Look through pictures of scrumptious-looking meals on

Step 19: Get inspired and decide to put your brilliant idea of creating your own recipe into action.

Step 20: Get out your frying pan and throw a bunch of random ingredients in.

Step 21: Put out yet another fire and realize that marshmallows, sprinkles, raisins, baking soda, orange peels and liquid gasoline probably wouldn’t have tasted very good together anyway.

Step 22: Wonder what the hell is wrong with you.

Step 23: Get distracted by the television for half an hour.

Step 24: Try to microwave 2 week old mac and cheese you forgot to
throw out.

Step 25: Watch as your microwave malfunctions and spontaneously

Step 26: Decide to clean it up later because you just cannot even deal
with it right now.

Step 27: Fill a *** with water to make pasta and try to boil the water.

Step 28: Somehow manage to burn the water.

Step 29: Wonder how that even happened?!!!!

Step 30: Give up and call the pizza delivery guy.

Step 31: When you grandmother arrives have her take a seat in the

Step 32: Call an ambulance when she has a heart attack seeing the mess
in your kitchen.

Step 33: Get ready to leave and drive after the ambulance to the
hospital with your grandmother once the pizza arrives so you can
bring it with you. Get a call from the pizza place.

Step 34: Listen to the manager explain that your pizza spontaneously
burst into flames in the oven and they are terribly sorry there will be a
delay in the delivery due to this.

Step 35: Pass out.
Stay tuned for more HOW TO posts :D

Hope this was helpful. If this offended you in any way, I apologize. I will cook you a gourmet meal to make up for it.
Elinor Jul 2018
To the two boys who think I owe them something.
My heart doesn't belong to either of you,
and your spindly fingers clenching it
don't look enough like ribbon
to fool me into thinking that
my love is a gift to you.
To the two of you,
so willing to give me
your monthly allowances of text messages
yet not your loyalty.
For thinking that an "honest" apology
fixes me having to question why
just me was never good enough
for either of you.
You were both greedy,
you always wanted more.
Now run free and fill your stomach with all the flavours that will burn your taste buds and scorch your tongue.
To both of you for being willing enough to open my box with a key that I never gave you,
rifle through my thoughts and feelings,
and not even open your ears to them,
leaving the lid off
and the contents strewn across your floor.
For offering to help me pick them back up again,
but only because my "small, little arms" are not strong enough to carry my own weight that I've carried for
fifteen years on my own.
Here's to both of you for putting me down about being small.
That is NOT my fault.
I have a mighty big cathedral for a heart and a generous brain
and that's all within 5"2.
It doesn't make you any bigger than me
Your few feet advantage doesn't give you
the power above me,
even if you can see the roots of my hair in more detail
than you would ever care to observe
the fault lines of my cracked smile.
Boys are being taught that
to love me
is to fix me,
that I am some kind of messy enigma,
a project, a goal.
I'm just a girl with a family, a girl with a head, with a spiders web of veins and a lifetime of lessons that I'm opening my arms and my heart to.
You mistake yourself for a lesson,
when I'm fully qualified to teach myself.

You diagnose yourselves
as "depressed".
Mental illness is not an accessory,
nor a quirk to make you seem more vulnerable to me.
Don't brandish it in the air,
it is not a weapon against me.
It doesn't make you adorable,
or some kind of cuddly bear boy.
Everything that's
"killing you"
is just as toxic to me.
You set my skin into blue flames
because I won't give myself to you.
I'm tangled in my rejection,
and it thickens.
I can't be with you out of pity.
My guilt, raging deep within my bowels,
marching violently through my organs,
exploding into a supernova of
thinking that love and guilt are almost the same thing.
"I'll do anything",
I don't want anything from you.
"I'll write you a poem because I know how much you love that."
I also love being respected but neither of you ever gave me that.
My craft is not a tool of trickery,
and your words not a trance.
"I'm not like him".
But you still act like my skin is a carpet to your home,
and you walk across it with muddy boots.

You think you're a blanket to keep me warm,
but you ended up suffocating me.
To the boys who think I owe you them something,
go home.
all my poems have been long lately,
but I have a lot to say,
so I'm not sorry.
John Carpentier Oct 2013
I would like to be a teacher
despite the fact that I never want to be a teacher.

All things could fall within my curriculum of wishful thinking and zero
fulfillment, of empty promises and unwritten letters and missing parents.

We all have absences within us, empty spaces where something should be
but never came, or left a long time ago.

This morning’s breakfast, self-love, memories of Disneyland, dead parents,
ex girlfriends and boyfriends, nights lost to blackouts.

We are all sewn together with voids, the missing parts which stitch
the rest of us together.

And I would tell my students—the young children, the angsty teens, the bitter old men—
that absence is always an infinity, an incalculable blank space of nothing.

To say that one person possesses more absence would be incorrect,
all you can say is that some infinities are bigger than other infinities,

But they are all limitless anyway. We all
wake up reluctantly on a Monday morning and feel that empty pit

Deep in the caves of our stomachs, growling softly or loudly
and announcing whatever it is we want most to fill us.

I would turn toward the chalkboard and bow my head and announce sadly
that we will always appreciate most that which is missing from us.

And admit that occasionally I go to bed early in the morning and dream of myself
as a teacup, slowly being filled up with the warm chai of lost love.

I wake up feeling not just sad but cold,
as if there should be a flowing, bubbling warmness within me which isn’t.

“You see class, nothing will teach you the truth quite like
contrast. You will never notice the cold more than when you forget your coat,

And you will never feel more tired than when you get up at 5am on a Monday morning
after the longest night of your life, with a full day of work and class and meetings ahead.”

Perhaps a young man who still has much left to lose will raise his hand one day
and ask, “What makes you so qualified to teach this class?”

And I will say that I am not especially qualified, but just as worthy
as anyone else.

I have walked north on Broadway, watching the shops around me get richer
and brighter, and feeling the emptiness of my bank account with every step.

I have stayed up late on Friday nights, doing nothing but sitting at my desk
and watching my phone out of the corner of my eye, waiting for it to buzz.

I have stood alone in a room full of people, watching smiles and kisses
and sadness and joy while feeling nothing but static.

I have opened up letters from universities and colleges and tasted
the combination of postal glue and bitter chocolate over and over again.

I have walked away from a woman I love, knowing that all the things I shared
with her every day will now never be within my reach.

I have watched the clock beside my bed reflect sunshine, then moonlight,
then sunshine again, all without ever closing my eyelids.

I have slapped my grumbling stomach after leaving the gym, hating myself
for my hunger and my appearance. I can never seem to take care of both.

I have sat down in front of a birthday cake, surrounded by people I love,
and begged my ****** muscles to do anything but frown.

I have held a rickety pocket knife against my forearm, wondering how
I ever felt like a normal person.

I have shouted I love you over the dead body of my father,
unwilling to leave until I received a reply.

And I have written a thousand poems, taken a million deep breaths,
waiting after every one to feel something shift inside me like a closing door.

I’m not interested in whose absence is bigger than whose,
I only care that we learn to see our emptiness in the people around us

And understand that pain is never an isolated incident,
but a universal language, which we all learn to speak whether we want to or not.

Some infinities are bigger than other infinities, but they are all limitless
anyway. We are all endless blackness, surrounded by light.
judy smith May 2016
Don’t take them at face value. Several leading actresses in Mollywood have shown themselves to be keen businesswomen too. So, if Poornima Indrajith, a fashionista in her own right and designer-in-chief of fashion store Pranaah, was the lone name in the list till recently, Kavya Madhavan, Lena, Kaniha, Shwetha Menon, Rima Kallingal and the like too have joined the fray to establish their credentials as entrepreneurs.

While Kavya owns Laksyah, an online fashion store, Rima runs Mamangam, a dance school in Kochi. Lena is busy with Aakruti, her weight-loss centre. Kaniha’s focus is on health care, as a franchise partner of Medall Diagnostics in Chennai. Shwetha, meanwhile, has opened a restaurant, Shwe’s Delight, in Dubai. Mallika Sukumaran owns Spice Boat, a restaurant in Doha, Qatar… The actresses talk at length to MetroPlus about why and how they went about it, the lessons they learnt and what lies ahead.

For Kavya it was the realisation of a long-cherished dream; of starting a business venture while she is at the peak of her career. “I zeroed in on a fashion boutique from several other options, such as dance school, beauty parlour, restaurant…,” says Kavya. “It was the safest and best choice because my father had been in the textile business back home in Neeleeswaram for nearly four decades. My brother, Midhun is a graduate in fashion technology and my mother and my sister-in-law too share the same passion. Laksyah is really a family-run enterprise,” she adds. Laksyah, which sells a range of one-off designer saris and daily wear and based out of Kochi, will be celebrating its first anniversary next month.

It was a photoshoot that lead Lena to open Aakruti. She had to lose a few kilos to get in shape for the shoot and her childhood friend, Louisa David, a physiotherapist, helped her achieve that goal. “I was happy with my weight loss and so we decided to launch a physiotherapy-based slimming centre. Louisa has been running her centre at Thrissur for five years and she helped me start Aakruti, in Chevayur, Kozhikode, in September last year,” Lena says.

Kaniha, always a multi-tasker, has a solid reason for taking the health care route too. It was the closest she could get to her childhood ambition to pursue medicine! “After coming back to India from the United States, my husband, Shyam Radhakrishnan and I wanted to start something. Since I couldn’t fulfil my dream of becoming a doctor and had to study engineering instead, I thought I should do something related to healthcare and that’s how Medall happened,” says the actress.

In Shwetha’s case, her restaurant was a venture waiting to happen. “In fact, those who know me for long are not surprised with my decision to open a restaurant. I am an absolute foodie. I am so very careful about what I eat that my cook always travels with me on my shoots. I also love hosting family and friends and often hold pyjama parties at home. That’s why a restaurant was the obvious choice when I thought about starting a venture,” says Shwetha. Shwe’s Delight [“I was called Shwe by my friends in modelling circuit”], which opened its doors last month, is a North Indian fine dining restaurant. “I wanted to give expatriate Malayalis in Dubai a different taste from the usual fare. We dish up a bit of Chinese food too,” she adds.

Being a celebrity helps, most of the time, especially to get publicity, say the leading ladies. For instance, Kaniha says she could bank upon her celebrity status to get corporate tie-ups. They also talk of brand value going up when a known face opens a venture. “There is a certain level of trust with potential customers because you are a known face,” explain Shwetha and Lena. “On the flipside, you are always under scrutiny. At times, I feel acting is much easier,” adds Shwetha. Kavya says it is not easy being the face of Laksyah. “I can’t go wrong with what I wear!” she adds, with a laugh.

Celeb status and a pretty face, though, is no guarantee for a successful business. All the actresses say that they put in a lot of hard work to get their businesses up and running. “The execution part was not easy, be it finding the right location, getting the interiors done, purchasing the machinery, appointing qualified staff, training them and even finalising the colour of the uniform. But I have become more confident now that we are opening a new branch in Kochi,” explains Lena. Kaniha, meanwhile, admits that she has learnt to be “more patient and be diplomatic.” Well played.Read more |****-formal-dresses
Arran James Jun 2014
The best way to get the broken pieces of an egg out of your omelette
Is using half the shell to pick it up while it's still raw

Maybe you're the best qualified to pick up your own broken pieces
Latiaaa Apr 2016
Hi, my name is female.
I might not fold my hands the way she does
Or flip my hair the way that girl does.

Hi, my name is female.
The width and length I am shouldnt define if I'm qualified for Vogue.
The way I lick my lips may not be as attractive as the next female,
How my eyelashes flutter may not appeal to you.

Hi, my name is female and I like mashed potatoes and Thai coconut.
They say “eat less, its prettier. Where this, it shows more.”
I shouldn't have to balance myself on misleading scales that does nothing but swallow my pride up.

Hi my name is female.
Because one chicken breast is smaller than the other….it's not the same?
Because another person's peach is plumper than mine….its better?  
They're still the same and we should treat them the same.

Words get thrown at us everyday and its expected of us to pick them up and change the way we are.

Hi, my name is female and I shouldn't be talking this way just for a guy.
I shouldn't be crying for this guy,
I shouldn't be kissing up to this guy,
I shouldn't be changing for a guy,
I wasn't made for a guy.

Because I can't reach my toes like the next female, shouldn't mean a thing. Because my palms may ash more or my bones may creek more, shouldn't define how pretty I am.
Her hair may reach her elbows, her hair may touch her neck.
Her skin might love the sun, her skin might hate it.
Its still beautiful.

Hi, my name is female and I like mashed potatoes and Thai coconut.
Just because you may not like it, doesn't mean Its gross or Im repulsive..

One female can say, “I am” while the other girl across the street can say, “I is.”
“No I won't”
“No I ain't”

I can still smile just like the next female,
I can hold a laugh,
Eat like the next female.

We're all one conjoined masterpiece.
One cannot make me feel low of myself.
One will not tell me she's better than me.
One will not let me cry my eyes out.

Hi, my name is female and I have a name.
My name defines me.
I am beautiful just like the next girl who likes mashed potatoes and Thai coconut.

Embrace your beauty, honey. You're gonna have it forever.
Amy Perry Jun 2014
We are a deeply entwined vine
Growing ever more far apart,
But still attached at the roots.
He has rooted himself in myself,
And has become a part of me.
I dissected worms in high school,
But I don't feel qualified
To dissect our conjointment.
He has asked me to hand him the scalpel,
And I have become too accustomed
To his requests to decline.
We stare at each other,
Both of us too timid to cut the ties,
And go to bed side by side
With scalpels in hand.
Mercury Chap Mar 2017
A lot many times,
I am too handicapped to write
A sentence
Two... words, one word, three words, four words...
Like a poet. I am too unconfident or inconfident or disconfident or... Is it unconfident? No, yes, no. Yes.
I am too broke, mentally, exhausted reserve of words, letters and alphabets that I am not native to, but are mine since I was born and my real language is lost amongst the chaos of my broken English. I can't be a good writer like this.
I can't be a poet, I am a person merely aware of a few things in life and can't express it clearly so I think vague poetry helps, even though I write it I can't interpret someone else's poems.
I am not qualified to be a poet. I haven't written 200 sonnets or a 1000 poems on various themes of life, not qualified to write poems on all stages of Human Development. I have only written a 100 poems... Actually, 150. But you can think it's 100.
I am not a poet. I am not old, I am not famous. I am not dead. Why should I be called a poet?
I am just a person who is expressing oneself, I shouldn't get so haughty and give myself a designation. Yet.
Let me grow old and decay in time, so when the earth swallows me up, provided people know me then by luck or chance, I might become a poet. I might.
I am not a poet.
But then, who IS poet?
souxie lily Oct 2011
i hate maybes more
than math- there is certainly

certainly with certainty
Onoma Aug 2016
The light fixture
let out light, as
the windows let
in sunlight.
The watcher played me,
qualified luminosities.
Until the bedroom felt
fully indivisible
by its walls.
Our three lights dawned
on one another.
Then there was Light,
for no apparent reason.
Occurring to no bedroom
at all...light thrice
perceived till overall.
April Hapner Apr 2012
to run a mess of things
lies, ties, and unspeakable rings,
you cannot convince me
if you were a gypsy

spun so fine,
claiming things, unknown klepto,
funny, thought i would never know?
unlike you, though... i did let go.

in dance
a rebounded, but failed, fanned romance,
a verbal tribute
to bounce around my notebook.

take a long look
see the crystal,
can you see it at all?
but even if i fall, i still remain

ive heard the rumors of fire and fire
ive once experienced that ****** up desire.
but i fight bold, whilst you fight cold
your little "friends" line-- was rehearsed and old.

so if you are a gypsy
can you too take a journey
leave the past,
and never come back?

cause the only person honestly
was the one whom couldnt

but to see the eventual Fail.
and watch you come crawling
tended an open wound
and got the ball all rolling.

if you were a gypsy
you would have known me
long before, you opened this door
and forever remembered as a ....

funny, its predictable
to know how i am prepared
with this and much more
but now i know i am capable.

so, if you were a gypsy
you would have flown free
once the parasite could be breached
he could have happy...?

but unlike a gypsy
you dont have the grace
but its all too easy
when his resin is all over your face.
august 2010.
gotta love revenge poetry.
the girl that my ex ran off with saw this and never under stood it...
Harmony Sep 2014
written September 10, 2014

"All these old folk sippin on their coffee complaining about drug dealing, I wonder how they'd be feeling
If they knew what they were drinking was a drug
And all this talk about blacks vs whites
One man claims 'oh I'm not racist' but holds his views tight
About straight marriage
Claiming homosexuality is okay but if you're gay to stay away because he doesn't want you lifestyle publicly portrayed
They complain about the gays but also don't know that their daughter once went in a room with another girl and had her way
Straight, gay, lesbian - it's all the same
People complain about them all as if stating your opinion is going to stick out from another's
And how about this talk on teen mothers?
Complaining how abortion should be illegal yet she doesn't even know the other?
Are you expecting a child who has dreams and hope
To give up and raise a child because their daddy was addicted to dope?
Your attitude on abortion is absurd
Have you heard - that it's not qualified as ******?
Or are you going to be close minded and let the girl suffer from her one mistake?
It's time to awake
And think about what decisions we really need to make
Like stricter security in schools, so they can't keep getting shot up by fools
And dealing with the homeless
I'm sure they would be blessed
It's time for people to understand priorities
And realize 'two men's love does not affect me'
All these old folk need to mind their own **** business
And let the new generation take over"
Life is but a country club.
Weren’t you invited, dear?

Intelligence quotients and aptitude tests,
sorted by layers of filters and ciphers,
to justly court the consummate lifers.

Are you qualified?

The waiting list is growing,
and the company is getting anxious.
Shall we take on some new members,
or watch the squirming a little longer?

Think about it this way,
if you aren’t qualified -
You can always try upstate.

What a lovely estate!
A half-smoked cuban cigar,
and a watchman at the gate.

No, you can’t trust the man
who got lost in his mistakes.

He is untrustworthy.

Do be a doll though, Cindy,
and send a nice postcard.
Maisha Mar 2013
Dear Charlie,
I assume you may not know me, but I know you. Well, how else could I not know you when your story has been adapted into a book and a movie? You may not recognize the way you can reach me back, because you’re fictional. But I’d like to think you’re real, and that’s good enough for me.
I’ve been reading your letters, just like any other kids my age and some adults who are still intrigued by young adult fiction. You cried a lot for a boy. You were not ashamed of it, too, even when you were with your friends, Patrick and Sam. They seemed to be really nice people, and I learnt that what they did didn’t define them. The fact that they like to smoke and drink doesn’t make them bad people. I like that. And as always, eventually, people stop doing things but their personality stays strong. Who you are comes from inside.
Anyway, yes, you cried a lot for a boy. You were lucky to have friends that appreciate your tears. Sometimes, they would join you, but in cheers. You cheered along, too, but they weren’t yelps or shouts of joy but whimpers of happiness. Crying may seem weak and vulnerable, but I think you didn’t need to stop.
I would like to tell you a story, if I may. Well, how would you reply to my request of patience and lending both of your ears when you’re only inside our minds? However, Charlie, if you were ever alive, I think you would be a good listener. This reminds me of one of the lines in your letter, stating that you’re “a wallflower”. Anyway, now, let’s get to my story.
In a few months, I will be packing my bags then depart to your country, the United States. A few months ago, I was tested whether or not I was eligible to live in your country and represent my nation. I passed. Though I thought that my interview kind of ******, I still passed. After being declared that I was qualified to go to the U. S., I was given a 27-page form I needed to fill. And so I did. The form consisted of student profile, student questionnaire, student’s letter to host family, parents questionnaire, interviewer’s report, medical records, academic records, a photo album, and a contract. I don’t know why, but this form seemed to weigh down on me, even though it shouldn’t feel tiring at all. I had the pleasure of writing my letter to my future host family, because I love writing, but somehow, I just didn’t like dealing with the official stuffs. But gradually, I put up with it and ended my misery.
Today, I gave the form to my counsellor. I was ready to feel satisfied. I was so ready because I had been feeling very ******* of late, and my rage peaked when my mom forgot to print the photos I needed for the photo album for my future host family to see. My anger still haven’t soothed down, though. Which means I am really mad. Little did I know, after all that ice cream of strolls between the school building to the administration to get my academic records and car rides from home to the doctor to clarify my medical records, topped by an icing of stress due to the ignorance in putting the photos together, there was a cherry on top. I had to print another copy of the same form, photocopy my passport photo, get my dad to sign my form, and if all that was not enough, my counsellor poured down a chocolate syrup into my wombs. I needed to refill my medical records which would only mean going back to the doctor for several more times. I don’t want to exaggerate by saying the hundredth time, because I am already tired.
Of course, all I did was put on my poker face for security, even though my mom yelled at me for not telling her sooner about the correct way to fill my medical records. To be honest, that is all I do. Put on a face of a clear expression of unclear emotion. I felt really stupid for not listening intently to my counsellor when we first met. I felt so stupid, I felt like I already wasted my opportunity. My opportunity to be myself to the fullest extent. My opportunity to feel what is unfelt. My opportunity to meet people I have not encountered. My first opportunity to really go.
But of course, that is not true. I just need to do what needs to be done and I’m all good. But I can’t help feeling like a failure. And I have been stifling more cries than I have ever been in my entire life. I wanted to cry when my brother left. All I did was covered my mouth with the bottom tip of my t-shirt and tried to catch myself when I fell. This time, I wanted to cry because I had never been so ignorant in following instructions. I don’t just tell myself this everyday, I am fully aware that I am observant. I see things people don’t. I feel things that people would dismiss. I listen to unspoken thoughts rather than what has been stated. I really like this part of myself. I feel like this is something that makes me me, and when I don’t do well on something simple like this, something has got to be wrong.
The first thing that came up to mind when I was faced with my mistakes was, “So this is my karma.”
I am a strong believer in karma, Charlie. I bet you know what it is. It’s the punishment you get after doing something bad. Nobody seems to know this, but I’m a bad person. I am. I have a bad habit of judging people; of collecting prejudices to make myself feel good; of being good even when I don’t want to; of not making the best of things; of lying, lying, and lying; of constantly hiding even when I have the chance to fully display myself out there; of being a burden to my parents and friends; of being vague about my faith; of not having a voice. I feel weak, but I won’t say I’m a weakling because I won’t make it become me, although all I want to do is to cry all the time because unlike you, I have no idea how to do that.
All I know right now is when I can feel there’s water in my eyes, I blink to dry them out. When my lips seem to turn upside down, I give them a rubdown so that they would look nice and pretty again. I don’t know how to cry, Charlie, I really don’t. I can already see myself next week at school, making an excuse to the toilet, or having lunch with friends and while having a good laugh I find myself crying, and I wouldn’t be able to distinguish my happiness and my melancholy. Neither would my friends.
I’m sorry for making it really long for you to read. I could just make it into several sentences, like, “Didn’t correctly fill out my form. Feeling like a failure. I don’t know how to express myself.” But knowing that you really like reading books as much as I do, I think you would appreciate my effort in writing my story as detailed as possible. I hope you enjoy it, too, no matter how miserable it seems when it really shouldn’t be. But then again, I wouldn’t be telling you a story.
During my inconsolable moment, I decided to make a list of things to remember when I’m an adult. In my mind, I wrote the first one down. I said to myself, “Remember the feeling of holding back.” I muttered the line aloud inside again and again, so that it would feel natural for me when I see someone in a situation like mine. As much as I hate that feeling, I need to be reminded so that others won’t be as miserable as I was. It seems pretty selfish of me, to see other people smile so that I can join them, but if you think again, it’s also for their own good.
The second one is to be sensitive, because it’s the only way you can understand anyone, especially your kids. I feel like people should not forget the fact that others of their kind is others of their kind. They’re not only their fellow citizens, they’re not only what they do for a living, they’re not doctors, or lawyers, or engineers, or archeologists. They are human. The basic form of every occupation. And they have feelings, just like we do. Sometimes we are blocked by the boundary of professionalism that we forget who they really are. There is not a day where we’re not divided based on jobs, religions, races, nationalities, and the list keeps going. But in the end, what we are is not based on those factions. We’re just mortals.
I would tell you more about the four other things I’ve listed, but I don’t want to keep you from doing what you’re supposed to do now. I think there are more things to be listed, too, when my days have moved on. But the four other things I’ve written down are, “Keep in mind Alesso’s quote, that you’re not gonna get any younger”, “Make ‘Listening to Sigur Rós’ a routine”, “Always eat your breakfast”, and “Remember the feeling of being a teenager, because most parents have already forgotten”. I thought that I would erase the last one because it is pretty similar to the second one, but I guess it has a different understanding. I’m sorry for keeping you from doing your job for awhile, whatever it is you are doing now. But I do hope you turn out well.
If you do reach the end, Charlie, now is the time that I thank you for reading this from the beginning to the end. I don’t get listened to much actually, so I think it is very kind of you for having finished reading every word. Anyway, I need to get busy printing my form again. I hope to recognize you in one of the souls I will be meeting one day.

Love always,
A friend
Chalaine Scott Feb 2013
Always eager, never feeble.
Lives to do it, will pursue it.
Never coward, will-powered.

Burning desire, unknowingly inspire.
Good under pressure,
The best, expect nothing lesser.

Extreme will and devotion,
Do not cause scene or commotion.
Attentively listen,
Very well disciplined.

Works until the job is done,
willing to risk his life for a son.
Never asks for applause,
works for a cause.

Pays a price for a result,
gives all without exult.
Qualified to protect, command respect.

Valiant and ready to save,
all in the name of the home of the brave.

Self motivation,
gives whatever it takes for the sake of a nation.

Dignified, noble and strong,
rush in when things go wrong.
Sacrifice so you can have your freedom,
Let him know that you need him.
aniket nikhade Nov 2015
Win it or lose it
Get it or forget it
One thing remains for sure
If you win, then the world knows you
If you lose, then it’s always try again
So always remember, give you best whenever you give a test.
Once the test is clear it means you are qualified to compete with the rest and others.

Deal with the past when in present
Deal with the past in the present
When dealing with the past in the present, if possible even ascertain the future.
Mistakes from the past will make their presence felt in the present
Deal with those mistakes, find the error and make sure the same does not happen in the future.

We live in a world where everything is uncertain and undecided
A world where dreams are part of everyone’s life
A world where we ourselves don’t know what will happen at the next moment and at the next turn.

We live with a hope that if not today,
then tomorrow something better might happen,
something good, which will change the present and shape the future in a best possible way.

We live in a world where every effort is made in the direction of not only survival, but also growth, keeping in mind the uncertain future.

We live in a world where everything is uncertain and undecided till the last moment in time
Still we don’t forget to smile
We don’t give up in what we are doing as our work
We try and keeping on trying till we get what we want.

The world belongs to those who try and in doing so they don’t give up
Never give up in life
No one knows when everything will start falling in it’s proper place
It’s time to learn one thing for sure
If you give your best, then hope for the same
Definitely a day will come when you will get the best and nothing less
So always give your best and hope for the same.
I wish I could sing you a song
I wish you could dance to the sweet melody
Of my heart drums
Today God gave the world this precious gift, indeed it is your special day,
I will keep my wishes for another day
But feel free to make my heart your wishing well
If not forever but at least just for today.
If you could give me the chance
I will paint you a sun
Create you a sky
Colour it with all the colours of the rainbow
And crown you the queen of all the galaxies of stars.

If you ask me, you deserve more than firewalls
You deserve the whole world.
You are worthy to worth more than wealth
If you most pardon me, let me make another wish
A wish only the almighty can grant indeed
I wish you the best of the best health
As a destined queen you are qualified to live a fiddle life indeed.

My dear, though my body is far away
My heart is always next to your glowing shadow
Dancing, smiling, drinking and sharing in your celebrations and sorrows.
Though our eyes had never seen face to face
But I daily commune with your words and your pictures are my windows.
We might never meet, no one can predict nature.
We might never be what I dare us to be but who can really tell the future?
Until the unpredictable happen, I pray your life should be sweeter than icing on a cake
I pray you live the life you want to live
And as long as it pleases God will.
I pray you can pry  into the deepest part of thee
To see the priceless treasures hidden deep in thee
I pray you pray for the grace to mount this beautiful golden throne
And above all, there is an expression I deeply want to make
Which is, Happy birthday to you an angel and a destined queen.
day's almost over
Sun's almost gone
an entire star hidden in the shadow cast by a speck of rock

high on caffeine
while falling asleep
trying to push myself past a mindful minefield of lyrical cynicism

scraping around bottom
goring the core
make a wish upon our shadow star to be a whimsical poet-to-be

flimsy words arise
then fall away
and the head's emptied again from nothing worth remembering

could be better
could be worse
not qualified to judge due to never passing the bar set for myself

eye-ing the time
passing me by
feeling the throb of decay in fingers' muscle memories of home row

finally the night
and darkened peace
stopping to let the words sink in, refresh the mind, and rest the eyes a minute

just resting my eyes
Ugh, utter crap.  Bad combination of "too tired to write" with "nothing worthwhile to say."  If I had any shame I'd be embarrassed to post this.
Nicole Fox Oct 2013
Lately your belly laughs and dry humor are flooding my mind. The only times we make eye contact are over volleyball nets and ice cream sales. Once the most important man in my life, you no longer fill the position. I fired you.
But then again, it’s like you quit. Instead of asking me about my day, you tell me about your new girlfriend. I’m beginning to forget the directions in which the wrinkles around your eyes move. I can’t exactly pinpoint your gray hairs anymore. You once embraced me with a father’s love but now pat your hand on my back.
Despite the frigid weather when you left, it didn’t seem so cold. But nine months has now felt like nine years and the temperature has only declined. It’s no surprise considering communication has never been your strong suit. Every time you speak is a cliffhanger. I am dangling from heights unknown, waiting for an answer that may not come. I want to submerge myself in your company and harmonize our voices in conversation. How are you?
My eyes do not reflect the chocolate brown in yours but instead radiate blue like the ocean. Unfortunately this is not our only contrast. Funny how years ago our faces were so similar but now that things have changed our only mutual feature is our height.
You’re half my original chromosomes but I don’t even know half of your day. Where do you go when it’s dark and the moon is shining down over you? What do you call home? Your absence is a mystery I cannot solve. The position I once promised you has been filled by a more qualified candidate; you wonder why I’m always with my boyfriend.
Although I am angry, I am sure this is unintentional. My hope is that this is only temporary. The only question is, how long will you be gone; when will you re-apply?
miss you
Dan Filcek Apr 2015
their recent deal met with shouts of betrayal:
the new Neville Chamberlain,
The refrain quickly sounded on Capitol Hill.
sympathy should be qualified.
speaking in accurate French
This is our moment ... our chance to join together
But then when is it not a moment?
repeatedly mispriced and misapplied,
often with disastrous consequences.
A complete list would fill a book,
but here are a few items:
the spectre of war
the American invading forces
the border with China
the British appeasing ******
the whole woeful Suez adventure
the occupation of the Rhineland  
the Cuban missile crisis
the fire jobs, in which hundreds of thousands civilians were incinerated;
the saying “extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice.”
the hailing of Ngo Dinh Diem, as the Churchill of Asia
the Kennedy administration giving a nod to the coup
the latest culture of appeasement
the drawing of Jimmy Carter carrying an umbrella.
the mirage of a peaceful alternative to war
which is really a defeat,
peace in our time?
Why do I think that isn’t going to happen?
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. - source
A Whitney Oct 2014
Today might not be your best,
    Or tomorrow,
    Or the rest,
    But know one day,
    You'll be able to say,
    I'm alright,
    I'm okay.

Not everyone you meet,
    Will be sweet,
    Not everyone you know,
    Will let you go,
    Keep close the best,
    Forget about the rest.

When a new day breaks,
    Don't worry about your aches,
    They won't last forever,
    You know that,
    This time too won't last,
    Blow away those icy leaves of your past.
Chase Gagnon Jan 2015
I was detached
so I could wander
hand in hand with the wind.
Who am I now?
I feel so frail
and my flowers are long gone.
“Look what I've become”
I say to no one
as the buzzards cry.
Their shadows circle me
like dark moons in a galaxy
starving for life —
am I not alive?

I've never seen flesh
that was still carrying a soul,
but the wind tells me stories
of slinking through their hair
when the world was young —
I can smell their skin on its breath,
its breath that’s carried me
to the edge of the earth a thousand times
to find only stars
that those ancient, mysterious people worshiped
before I was even a seed.

Am I qualified to pray
to those stars that have lead us
to a thousand sunrises?
Will they even hear me
with this voice that is only a rustle
across rocks and dirt,
this voice that is literally nothing but a ...

my soul who shapes the clouds
who possess my dry body, and countless others all at once
interrupts me
and whispers yes.

I smell the gods in its voice now.
judy smith Mar 2015
Did you know that if you don't stretch in the correct way, you might end up thwarting the entire purpose of your workout and suffer unwanted injuries?

Doing pre-workout stretches thoroughly will determine whether you are benefiting from your workout or whether it's worsening your muscle tear. Here are the major stretching crimes that you should never commit.

Not doing a proper warm-up

According to gym instructors worldwide, this is the most commonly committed crimes in any gym. A warm-up is a must before any kind of workout — cardio or weights — and must ideally last at least 12-15 minutes.

Assuming that stretching is a warm-up

Stretching and warming up is not the same. You need to warm up first, before you are ready to stretch. A slow jog or brisk walking on the treadmill is a good warm-up.

Rushing through your stretching exercises

Stretching should be for the entire body. You cannot skip any parts. Involve stretches that work your lower back, shoulders, calves, stomach, quads etc. You should not move from one stretch to the other in very quick succession because that may cause untoward injuries. Try to hold each stretch for 20 seconds. When you breathe deeply and hold the stretch, your muscles get trained to tolerate the maximum that your limbs can go to.

Giving stretching a skip after a workout

You have done an hour of strenuous exercise and now you just want to rush out of the gym; that is a huge mistake. Spend some time bending and stretching after your sweat session. Then, do a cool down before you leave the gym.

Not stretching every day

You need to be your flexible best always and that can only happen if you stretch daily, even on the days that you aren't gymming. This ensures that your gym days are more fruitful and that you make the most of them.

Not breathing properly

Breathing right is a very important aspect of stretching. Breathe naturally while you inhale through your nose, expand your rib cage and upper abdomen as you fill in your lungs. When exhaling, breathe out through your mouth, preferably making an audible sound. This relaxes you. While stretching, you need to breathe out when you are exerting, that is, when you are actually contracting your muscles.

Doing static stretches

Never stand still and do stretches that work only one muscle. You should rather do stretches that work a group of muscles — like a lunge that stretches your upper hamstring muscle, your ankles and also your glutes.

Ignoring pain while stretching

When you are in the middle of a stretch and you feel pain, stop immediately and consult an expert. Your stretch should make you feel a gentle pull only, not immense pain. If you are hurting, you are doing it wrong. Rest a few days and then go back to working out under a qualified trainer.Read more
Edward Coles Nov 2013
I felt his ring around my finger
Before we’d even touched hands.
A meek merchant of charm,
He desisted from cheap sentiments

And instead borrowed a will of silence
From some eastern monastery or other,
Citing his affections through silent smiles
And a shrug of his shoulders which told me:

“I am as baffled by this world as you are, dear.
For far too long I have had to lean on one leg
Whilst standing, to ease my ache, to wait things out.
Come, sit with me.”

And so I did.

Resplendent white, some archaic sentiment
Of false-purity – it bathes me. Washes me of colour,
‘till I’m baked in the reflective glow of sunlight,
Rinsed of history, of time, treasures and identity.

I’m his now.

This full-bodied mirror, she stands so ungainly
In her bridal pose. A slapstick siren, a young deer
On stilts; A stretch of church floor to hesitate over
Upon hatching. She must make it to the sea.

In this reflection, I see neither him nor I,
But a composite of his kindness, my eyes;
Small forget-me-nots of a daisy-chained child
And a waysided academic.

It’s not my fault, nor his. Our dreams were wasted
By fairytales, poisoned by old fortune. No story
Succeeded, no narrative complete, ‘till love is resolved,
Until love is in place.

I felt his ring around my finger
Before we’d even touched hands.
For, why would I ever care to scale such mountains,
In a world he casts so temperate and sure?

So with each year that shall pass,
From now ‘till some curtained collapse,
I shall reduce in my margins,
Fragmented elements and forgotten scope;

I dissolve unto him,
Stagnant upon his solution.

— The End —