Turbulent Times For Poets They praise your pain when you’re buried and gone, frame your words like you lived it all wrong.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
“Be the one who helps others feel that there is still love and light in the world” Each one of us has the Power and the Ability
By Ruth Elizabeth Stiff2 years ago in Poets
“Life is the most difficult exam. Many people fail because they try to copy others, not realizing that everyone has a different question paper”
“Be the reason someone feels welcome, seen, heard, valued, loved and supported” Imagine how ‘Good’ this will make you feel.
Some loves don't finish with slammed doors or bitter words. Some loves finish in silence. Not the quiet kind — the heavy kind. The kind that sticks around after someone's gone. The kind that echoes through empty places, through voicemails that never get returned, through memories that still have the flavor of home.
By MD NAYEM2 years ago in Poets
I did not aspire to be a poet. I had poetry chase me like rain pours onto houses — sudden, noiseless, unavoidable. It was a silence, when the world outside me slowed to a crawl but the inside of my head was louder than ever before. I had no clue how to speak what I was doing, but the words lingered within my chest, thudding against my ribs to be released.
No one is better than anyone else. We are just not as good. No one is superior to anyone else. We just have different positions.
By Test2 years ago in Poets
How to see who is comfortable for us - Be quiet without feeling uncomfortable - Be with us without feeling tired - Be with us with a smile
''Friends and enemies'' are not permanent, remember this… Some people hug us, comfort us, and advise us So that they can stab us in the back easily.
Everything has its time .... Whether it's hardship, hardship, sadness or disappointment In the end, "it will pass" If today is bad ... don't lose hope
Like people love their cats and dogs, I loved our backyard calves. They were my childhood friends. I stroked their fur and jowls,
By Seema Patel2 years ago in Poets
The shoes by the door are mine now. The fridge stays full longer than it should. And the quiet— the quiet hums with memory.
By Elena Vale2 years ago in Poets
