Our body is a cluster of organs, they work in collaboration, everything is connected. We give in to temptations, Which lead to inflammation
By Seema Patel2 years ago in Poets
Under my feet grow weeds — dandelion and clover. People don’t think highly of them. They’re even labeled noxious. But these plants bloom,
_____________________I want to write words that land a punch and hook thereader by the heart. I knowI have it in me to start.--I want to use words thatpull you in. Asking questions that can make you think andfeel new sensationsleave you feeling on the brinkof inspiration for any occasion.--I want to provide thought provoking prose that leadsyou to where ever your mindshould go. Lighting this onesspark and that ones soul onfire with visionary desire.--I want to find words to pullyou in, guide you to inspiration for you to begin.Help you with a stanza or twopull the strings of your heartto use those emotions to create something new.--I want to help you end your ownwriter's block, feed your mindas a Shepard feeds their flock.Help you stop yourselffrom procrastinationby writing for you a destinationto your own words of foreverwords to entertain, words that areclever. --I'm here to help or just cheeryou on to some great poemyou had in you all along.___________________
By ᔕᗩᗰ ᕼᗩᖇTY2 years ago in Poets
I write my own fate every word, stanza and syllable starting with a clean slate. To write from a blank mind onto a page as
Scary people are ''people with human hearts'' The scariest ignorance is ''knowing the face but not the heart'' The knowledge that everyone should have is ''knowing good and bad''
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Poets
'Capable' people If they do the 'wrong job' They may appear 'incompetent' A 'happy' person If they are in the 'wrong place'
Tearing into scar tissue on soft, exposed neck into thrumming, strumming artery interlocking in memory, ghosts, touch. I am stitched together
By Chaia Levi2 years ago in Poets
"The whole city gathered at the door That evening after sundown The sick the broken and the poor "Could this Jesus really be the Messiah?"
By Colleen Walters2 years ago in Poets
People often think small kids are naïve. They break toys, they cry for candies, they trust strangers. But give them a break —
Kindness, oh my goodness, kindness, the most beautiful of all human virtues! I can’t help remembering the woman who acted as a Good Samaritan that day.
What's good for the goose Is good for the gander Wrap my neck in a noose From all that damn slander What is good for one
By Hannah Alexander2 years ago in Poets
He opened the door with his love and comes when you call it’s a new love one that doesn’t harness or keep you but sets you free
