fabiochiu/medium-articles huggingface dataset:
To Look Like Me, To Sound Like Me
By: Lily Kwok
Tags: Academia, Trinidad And Tobago, Diaspora, Immigrants, Education

Navigating Education as a Chinese-Trinidadian

“I took off our language and wore my English, like a mask, so that others would see my face, and therefore yours.”

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

The power of education means that the child of an immigrant mother, illiterate in English, can achieve a degree in English Literature and graduate the valedictorian of her faculty. My story is the story of many. West of the Atlantic 一 in the New World, the Americas 一 are thousands of children navigating the hegemony of English, a language that may not be spoken at home, a language they may not share with their parents. It is in this ‘outside’ language that school assignments may become lost 一 lessons half-understood by children, and home-work in script parents cannot decipher. I remember asking Joe, who used to cut our grass, to help me with vocabulary words from the Nelson’s West Indian Readers in kindergarten. It was the time of corporal punishment in schools and I feared the sting of the ruler burning into my palm for being unable to enunciate these precious syllables. I eventually ended up in a remedial English class in my first year of primary school.

One of my first experiences of being aware of my Otherness was when a boy held a white colour pencil against my arm and declared that it was the colour of my skin.

“Yuh skin like dis colour pencil!” he exclaimed, his own skin the colour of cocoa.

We were sat around the low, communal tables found in all kindergartens, on equally low chairs designed for bodies still growing every day. I was confused; my skin was not white. I picked up the beige colouring pencil and pleaded my case. This feeling of difference would only intensify over the years; I would shed my childhood innocence and absorb the concepts of race, colour, and ethnicity in its place. I was used to being the only yellow body in a room. At times, I thought that my undergraduate professors remembered my name easily, not because it was a simple name 一 two syllables, four letters, L-I-L-Y 一 but because it was always easy to remember the anomaly. How could you forget the name to the face that stuck out like baby hair around the nape of your neck?

I have navigated my life thus far with the acute awareness that I both look and sound different; that no matter what space I might exist in 一 whether it’s in the Caribbean, in China, or in the United States 一 I’m exotic. A DNA test would likely say that I’m 100% Han Chinese, my parents both immigrants from Guangdong province. Yet, when I open my mouth, you can only hear the rises and dips of a Trinidadian accent. You hear the voice of someone raised on a small speck of an island off the coast of Venezuela, born to the ocean, matured by the sun. It has shaped how I’ve interacted with the world, and how it has interacted with me.

This essay comes in two parts; my educational experiences in Trinidad and Tobago, and my educational experiences in the United States as a graduate student.
Simultaneous Invention Theory and Plagiarism: There’s Nothing New Under the Sun
By: Markus Scorelius
Tags: This Happened To Me, Academia, Simultaneous Invention, Science, Plagiarism

Zero tolerance meets the Information Age

Academicians are stubbornly assuming the worst of their students as they are adopting zero tolerance policies towards plagiarism. They’re also not being very reflective when considering the type of assignments they are giving their students. Some assignments are rote regurgitation of known facts. They don’t call for original creative input on the part of the student.

There are only so many ways to say certain things. There is also industry-wide accepted jargon that must be used in many circumstances if you want to be understood. Claims of plagiarism should only be applied to creative endeavors or work that requires original thought.

For example, if I am asked to design an intake form for patients coming into a hospital, it should not be held against me if my form happens to look very similar to the thousands of forms already out there.

Consider the following form in terms of plagiarism. It’s one of hundreds like it available for free. There are also forms that cost from $2 to $6 to download. I couldn’t tell you the difference between the free forms and the copyrighted forms.

There aren’t any complete sentences. They look pretty much the same to me. There are only so many options and so many ways to say certain things. In addition, there is the industry accepted way to say what needs to be said.

Medical Intake form from template.net

Imagine you were asked to design this form for a class. Imagine the teacher making an announcement after grading the students’ work that she was “profoundly disappointed” at the amount of rampant plagiarism on this particular assignment. Some students even had scores in the range of 70–85% plagiarized!

I’m as flabbergasted as you are! What wretched lazy little urchins these students must be! What’s a teacher to do with such a rebellious class that refuses to do their own original work when asked to design a medical intake form? You know, remake the wheel.

I guess she had no choice but to fail more than half the class. No need for reflection on the nature of the assignment. No need to consider that thousands of similar templates have already been produced.

When does self-reflection on the part of the “teacher” come into play? When can we restore logic and sanity to a system that has shut their eyes to reality?

Because, must like terrorism eroded civil rights in America, these “teachers” have been pumped full of red-pill propaganda about the proliferation of plagiarism for two decades. So much so that plagiarism is the first and only thought that pops into their minds when they see the results from given by plagiarism checking software.
Patience From a Patient
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

The patience from a patient

No one could understand

They kept calm

Under the pain

Never even complained

Taking things in their stride

They had an air of calmness

Always giving thanks

Patience from a patient

Can teach lessons on life

Even when they are

Unwell they always had a smile
My Mole
By: Patrick Olszewski
Tags: Poet, Poetry Writing, Relationships, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Burrow deeper into your hole, Mole.

Depress further from the light above like a hollow

husk that digs and gruels towards my overgrown grave.

Claw underneath my skin.

Scuttle through my veins, and ruin the roots I have bared

in the flesh of my soil. Tear me to shreds.

Delve deeper into the dungeon of my body, you Blind Bat.

Let my darkness seduce you

away from the light you pray to see.

You are cunning as you gnarl

through the blood that infests my dirt.

Get lost within the chasms of my brawn.

You better hide from my bastion above, where no welcome shall reach you.

Continue to scrape your back on my seeds sown by my soldiers.

My babies as sharp as barbed wire for the purpose of distilling your blood

strengthening my brooding children.

Mole, you are nothing without me.

You twisted, pathetic plaything.
Words
By: E.K. Spencer
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Writing, Poetry

I thought poetry was only for those

who were good at words

and could articulate their feelings

but it isn’t

It is for those with feelings

looking for a way to understand

and to be understood
True self
By: Adonis Richards
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

True self

It’s in the moments of darkness,

The uncontrollable feelings of helplessness

And dismay that we find the strength to create light,

and bear it through the cold nights.

When we feel like there is nothing left, when we think we’ve taken our last breaths

that we amass the strength to let go, create, and blossom.

Healing is painful, traumatic and exhausting.

However it is the presence, the love, the growth that are the prizes we truly covet when we heal.

And from those painful moments we become our true selves,

and give life to the world
I feel so safe when i’m with you
Tags: Poet, Poetry Writing, Relationships, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

I feel so safe when i’m with you

that was always a truth

and may always be a truth

i can’t seem to change how my body reacts to you

my mind reminds me of the pain you caused

while my body seems to gravitate towards you

perhaps i crave the torture

perhaps it’s only because it was hidden by love

but now the only thing i am certain of

is the constant war in my mind

about how i feel about you
Shadow
By: Shinei Shukla
Tags: Poetry Writing, Love Yourself, Shadow, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

My smooth shadow, you inspire me to write

How I love the way you dance, sit and walk

invading my mind day and through the night

Always dreaming about the poppycock.

Let me compare you to a living lie?

You are more gorgeous, attractive and dark

Stark drought dries the blue picnics of July

And summertime has the comical sark.

How do I love you? Let me count the ways

I love your style and personality

Thinking of your silly style fills my days

My love for you is musicality.
Darkness
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poem, Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Photo by Irina Iriser on Unsplash

In the fading light

The darkness approaches

Unknowing and fear set in

It is not darkness

That we fear

It is fear itself

Calmness and few people

Make the darkness instill fear

The darkest hour

Is just before dawn
Kyoto
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Spilled Ink, Poetry

strolling around in a white cape

a golden glistening patterned braid

with daisies in her hands, and roses on her arms

and ivory mercurial guilt on his plate
If only every day,
By: Saayesha Chandrani
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Christmas, Christmas Poem, Poetry

If only every day,

Held the spirit of Christmas day,

To captivate that feeling always,

Year round would be the best way!

If only every day,

We would be so kind,

To our fellow man,

Year round would be the best way!

If only every day,

We share and give,

So that others may happily live,

Year round would be the best way!

If only every day,

We expressed our love,

And thanked God above,

Year round would be the best way!
People Think You Owe Them
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poem, Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Even though you don’t

They take you for granted

As if you are the property of them

You owe nothing to anyone

If they think you do

They are controlling

Ignorant fools

Do not let someone

Think you owe them

Kindness is of the heart

Not to give something back

Respect is earned and not demanded

Some children think it is

Respect is priceless

Often it can be broken

A cruel word or act

Breaks all boundaries

Losing love and often respect
As Sure as the Moon
Tags: Poet, Poetry Writing, Relationships, Poetry, W

As Sure as the Moon

as the moon rises every night without fail

as it shows me it’s face

and bathes me in it’s light

my love so too stays constant

sometimes hidden

by clouds of deception

but it’s re-appearance

is always vouched for

as i do not believe a first love

can ever be truly forgotten
My Body
By: Kendall Elizabeth
Tags: Poem, Writing, Poetry Writing, Spoken Word, Poetry

I’m taught at a young age that woman give themselves to men

that my body is not mine once married

but belongs to the single person who asked, “Will you marry me?”

That for him to give me his hand in marriage,

For him to love me till death do us part,

I must now give him my body

We’re taught at a young age that a man must ask my father if he could marry me

Like my father is my master

or that when he says yes,

he hands that control over to my husband

Across the world,

woman are being handed over for marriage,

like pawns in a game

only to become a subject in earning money for their family

See it has been made for centuries

that woman are not people

but objects bought

and used to satisfy a man’s desire

But for what do you think I’m worth?

Am I merely part of a collection to you

or can you see that I am just as deserving as you see yourself?

And when you look in the mirror,

can you really say that you’re better than me,

just because you were born a man,

just because you were born with a body different than mine?

You see,

woman are people,

human beings like you,

part of the men that walk the earth

And we are not a man’s property

You cannot buy me

I am not made for your pleasure

I am not a creation designed for you

I am a woman

and my body is not yours to play

but mine to hold

And if I decide to let your hands roam my skin,

it does not mean you own me

Loving me does not give you the rights to my body

Marrying me does not make me yours to control

My body is for me

It is designed for me

and if I let you touch my body,

my body is still mine
O Swooping Grandeur
By: Mahesh Cr
Tags: Sri Aurobindo, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Yoga, Poetry On Medium

How grows the distances between men and I?

Their vain scurryings and cherished caprices

Now appear like a mirage in the distances

To my sight under the same familiar sky.

And pray who, this stranger in the mirror?

As a distant kin and yet all so foreign

By many separating distances from origin

That even memory fails to remember.

How many tomes treaded by thought?

Each page a world, each word an edifice

Were all strenuously won as an accomplice

By long laborious commerce to this quest.

How many musing trails were followed?

Through a labyrinth of ideas and ideals

Shaped as fine hamlets around thought castles

With vigour of pursuit well remembered.

But all these distances do pitifully fade

To the time when I pondered but a moment

And was caught in a miraculous instant

By a sheer infinite leap Thou had made.

O Swooping Grandeur, O Marvellous Power,

All instances mine are indebted to Thee forever.
I just want a simple life.
By: Arnav Roy
Tags: Poem, Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Simple Life

i want peace

i want to wake up happy

i don’t want to always think about what i need to do next

for my career, my personal life, my finances

i don’t always want to climb more mountains

i don’t want there to always be more “next steps” for me

i just want to stay on the mountain i’m at

and enjoy the view

i just want a simple life.
Who Am I
By: Nicole Maharaj
Tags: Poetry Writing, Love Yourself, Poetry, Personal Development, Lifestyle

Photo by Joren Aranas on Unsplash

A Caricature of sorts

Who Am I

Who has this Society turned me into,

A caricature of sorts,

A cynic who turns away from her dreams,

The Romantic that still dreams of true love

A Lost Soul

A withered woman

A millennial who dreams of a future just outside her grasp.

The Future drifts further away As sickness spreads worldwide,

Lockdown after Lockdown,

The Neverending doors being closed,

Angry family members,

stressed out children,

Anxiety turning into,

obsessive cleaning,

Days of cleaning,

Organizing,

Tidying up

what I can,

Avoiding the things I can’t control,

The fears of a Neverending Pandemic,

Friends and Co-workers,

so far away,

The City I love outside my grasp,

Cousins,

Family members, I have to stay away from,

Safety only in common circles,

Masks, Masks,

Everywhere,

Weeks of hiding in my room,

The first time I’ve carved out a place for myself,

My writing cave,

Away from prying eyes,

My domain covered in, Water,

The fridge rejecting my father,

WILL THIS PANDEMIC EVER END?
WE SAY ‘I LOVE YOU’
By: We Are Amused
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

And with that we are bound

To promises and hopes

Best intentions full of care.

Can it last?

Can we keep our hidden monsters

From creeping forth

Wreaking havoc on our soft words

And gentle touches.

Old habits die hard, they say.

I have never found that to be anything but true.

You look at me

And I am my best self

Full of heroics

Full of desire to make you happy.

You say ‘I love you’

Then look away.

Missing the crack

Where my old wounds peek,

Spilling out pain

Spilling out fear.

I am not ever my best self.

Forget all intentions.

I say ‘I love you’,

Waiting for your tell-tale signs of harm.

None come.

A whole human.

You stand with promises intact.

Inspiring

Intimidating.

We say ‘I love you’

[The Sermons 1.30]
Shadow
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

One night I dreamt that I lost my shadow

That it slowly faded until it was suddenly gone

I looked for it, high, low

On the blank walls across from me, down below

on the ground where it often trailed long and short

making me tower sometimes, and sometimes shrink, ebbing and flowing like the days of my life.

It was gone, my shadow, and with it my soul.
CyRecycle
By: Uzomah Ugwu
Tags: Environment, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Recycling

When food is disposed of in landfills it becomes a source of methane, which is a greenhouse gas with twenty-one more times the global warming potential of carbon. When they say watch what you eat, also watch what you do with leftovers. Food waste ends up wasting almost a quarter out of our water supply in the form of uneaten food equaling to one hundred and seventy-two billion in wasted water. Not knowing what to do with eaten food causes a lot of needless hunger and huge economic losses. Basically, food from grocery stores such as produce and close to being expired box foods and cans can go to food pantries and the homeless and persons living with low incomes. But where does the food go? There needs to be a better waste system before we are living in the waste and have nowhere to go.
Unremembered.
By: Dean Duval Dyus
Tags: Poem, Poetry In Form, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

I’ll fall asleep before I fall in love. Why? I can’t remember.

I hold the pieces of a shape I used to hate~but can’t remember.

I remember like it’s fresh; the way she left me out of

breath. But, the way my lover left? I can’t remember.

I still see our lazy silhouettes; on Ocean Beach with weeded

cigarettes. I see her face, but it’s her smile I can’t remember.

Eager lips caressed the flesh I seeked; her neck, her chest, her

freckled cheeks. The way she tastes, today, I can’t remember.

I wrote an Ode to softest lips — to how her kiss had brought me

bliss — inside a book I took to hide someplace I can’t remember.

At dusk, in a musty hostel in Madrid, she said she fell

for me: a speech of sweetest words I can’t remember.

I still hear the beats inside her chest as floorboards creak &

squeak like breath; but anything she said? I can’t remember.

I sat estranged throughout our fights ’cause silence always voiced

her spite. I ripped & split my skin for reasons that I can’t remember.

She told me that she hated us. I said the same (but made it up);

breaking up for things I wish I never said — but can’t remember.

We spent a rainy week in Spain — in pain & weakness, lost at war

— before she said the way she felt was what she can’t remember.

Today, she brings another ecstasy. She lies, but won’t lie next

to me. So, tonight? I’ll swallow wine until I can’t remember.

Last fall, we both fell into spells. The boy she loved was someone

else. The way she loved, the girl she was — why can’t I remember?

My reflection is the enemy… betraying blissful memories.

Dean, it’s not your lover~it’s her love you can’t remember.
Ode to izzy
By: Puck Oberon
Tags: Poem, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Ode to izzy

Come back to me

Please, let me come running back to your sharp shoes

And sleeping bags spread across too-hard floors.

I hate what you’ve become, so far away,

Attached at the hip and the heart to him

Drawn away from me and leaving me in mourning

For a friend who sits a foot away.

You turn your smile to me

And I feel like the sun has broken through the

Clouds of winter.

But all too soon you turn back, like a sunflower

Drawn to the sky, drawn back to him.

We share few classes and when we do

The jokes are stilted and the memories

Like plants

Are wilting, withdrawn from the water.

I would sell my soul to sit with you in silence,

See you doodle in my margins and mock

Our teacher’s stumbling,

Please, peel that layer of awkward from your voice

And let me hear you again.

Don’t let me walk away whispering

I miss you I miss you I miss you
The Silence, by, Emma Ferguson inspired by Robert Hayden
By: Emma R. Ferguson
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Inspiration, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Sundays, too, your voice echoed through the house,

with the silence that plagued me,

Only one of these accompanied me through those monotonous days,

Yet it was not the one that once called me beautiful,

With my cracked voice and tired eyes,

The silence was the one who cradled me.

I’d wake and wish you had stayed,

When I put up my walls, you would call,

And I’d fall again, just for you to leave,

Standing on shaky ground fearing that this would be the last,

You never stayed, It never was,

If pain had a name it would be yours.

Speaking indifferently towards me when others were around,

They couldn’t know,

Know that it was you who lifted me up to switch to another just as I fell.

My smile was polished,

What a fool,

The fault was mine for I somewhat know,

You were my Hireath, you weren’t mine to lose.

What did I know, what did I know

Of Clandestine meetings and a written elegy

My Poem “The Silence” is about losing someone and realizing that through all the time you spent together they were never really there, and they were never really yours. It played off of “Those Winter Sundays” by incorporating the beginning words of each stanza into my own. Both were about someone not being around and misunderstanding the reason, but one was because they needed money, the other was simply because they didn’t want to be there.
Wisdom
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poem, Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Wisdom comes from knowledge

Knowledge gained as a child

Wisdom is understanding

The world around us

You have inborn wisdom

It is upto you to realise it

Wisdom is knowledge

You can pass on
Less than dust
By: Kade Wright
Tags: Poem, Sad, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Love

If I could give you my heart I

Would rip it from my chest.

As it still beats, with my last breath I’d say " it’s for you, hold it tight in your arms and in a million years it will be a diamond.”

But alas it would be less than dust.

Because we are here for a short time,

Then we’re gone.

Nothing left, maybe some memories but nothing more.

We’re here on borrowed time.

But in the short time we’re here

I’m yours.
Atomic Poetry(35)
Tags: Poem, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Poet and sharing a few other things
WINTER SOLSTICE
By: Summi Sinha
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Writing, Poetry

Fish chips and wine white,

Laden on my sleek teak bright

Shine of the cutlery

A mix of sweet smile

An invite to the moon has finally been approved

The moon had planned to travel through the infinite

To dine with me tonight

On a winter solstice night.

Time abundant

Coyly I sit

Waiting for the moon to land

Its little late,I think

But I have abundant time

Maybe the moon is dressing up!

Wonder

About its gender?

Like me ,

No

Not like me,

I pick a finger

Wondering what it can be

She is feminine ! like me

I finally decide

White gown

With stars twinkled on the riped bosom

Tiny waist,round face

A solitaire on her delicate finger

Hairs gelled and curled

O’ the moon is dressing up ,embrace silence and watch.

It’s late

I sleep for a while

A little hungry but,

Time abundant

It’s a winter solstice night

I can wait , long into the night

My moon dressing up,

I wait to see ….

The rays finally arrived,

They say me moon will follow soon,I heat the chips,

And wait ,

Wait,

And wait to see the bride,

I am hungry

But I can wait

It’s a winter solstice night

And finally sleep creeps again,I know not the time it came,

I see the little rays ,

Poking me

Moon has arrived

Hidden behind the shine of sun

It was a winter solstice night!!!
Unique
By: David O. Ngonadi
Tags: Poetry Writing, Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

unlike the rest,

for the path that I must follow

is different,

different in its destination,

different in what it will require of me

and different in its composition

and consistency.

so, whilst I know that they will

first think and say that I am

wasting my life,

and do not know what I am doing;

simultaneously, others will label me

weird but in the end

I know it is just because I am unique,

which they will see and be unable to

dispute.
Bundle of self-created poems.
By: Anny Rnts
Tags: Poem, Writing, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

> ‘Passing by’

That someone always looks in a certain direction,

eyes seeing things as if stars granting wish by wish.

That, someone, was me that they mention,

for the heart beats faster as if days passing in a blur for a kiss.

> ‘You who hang the stars of the night’

One dusk approach, laid the glow of twilight.

We found ourselves mesmerized.

One dawn approach, stars hang up on the hollow.

I found myself enchanted.

For you to hang them up, for what it seemed.

> ‘Endless Distance’

As snowflakes fall beneath our distant steps,

As fire burnt out woods to ashes,

As the fall commiserates the dead leaves.

My heart still missing yours,

Like i long for spring to arrive in the furthest north.
Tales of the Sun
By: Suchitrha Kumar
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poets Unlimited, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

Once upon a time

when daylight came,

the earth would always be

inclined to look away

but one fine day

the earth met her sight,

and

what a warm

feeling

was felt inside,

and from that day

the earth would spin

slow

and

steady

just to watch her live

– – –

Suchi
Drown
By: E.K. Spencer
Tags: Writing, Ocean, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Emotions

When you want to cry

but you know it will take over

and you won’t be able to make it stop

fearing it will drown you

so you hold it in

and hope

hope that it does not consume from within
Journey
By: E.K. Spencer
Tags: Writing, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium, Journey

One day you will wake up

and have no idea

where you are

or

how you got here

but it is up to you

to work out

where you want to go

and

who you want to be

it’s never too late
Faith and Understanding
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium, Poetry Sunday

Without faith there is no understanding

Without understanding there is no faith

Understanding is knowledge

Faith comes from knowledge

The unknown produces fear

Fear is the unknown

The unknown is uncertainty

Uncertainty is the unknown

It takes faith to believe in God

God gave all things

Man lost faith and turned their own way

Man stopped believing in God

Yet without the Lord

There is no man

Have faith and knowledge will increase
My suicide letter to the society
By: Luna Lunaria
Tags: Poetry Writing, Dark, Poetry, Society, Poetry On Medium

Before you go I hope you spit in the face of everyone who said that everything will be fine.

I hope you spit on the face of everyone who said those words, but never did anything to actually implement them.

I hope you spit on the face of everyone you loved for keeping you here.

For making you torture yourself day after day, week after week and month after month.

For making you actually believe there was something good in this rotten world to stay alive for.

***

Again day after day you watched again another child getting abused by humankind.

Let me tell you, there’s nothing humane left in humankind. In the thing they call society.

No matter how hard you try, no matter how far you reach, you can’t see the light anymore. It’s covered by the mist their blindness and despair brought upon you.

But finally, when you have nothing else left, but the mist. When everyone who told you to hang on couldn’t stand the despair you know what to do.

***

At the end of the day there is a little bit of triumph in falling to your death, arms spread wide and tears of relief running down your face.

There’s no regret in your heart. You had to lose to finally win. You had to face the darkness to see the shimmering light. That’s the sickening beauty of death.

But you won, you truly won. You overcame society.

***
All So Shy
By: Mahesh Cr
Tags: Sri Aurobindo, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Yoga, Poetry On Medium

Where is thy strong hand O Storm,

Gentle thou seemest, almost unarmed?

Where O Fate is thy brow of dread,

That grim visage and perennial frown?

Where O Ill is thy harsh sting,

That malevolent uninvited dagger?

Where O Sorrow thou doth deliver

Thy mournful forlorn song?

Why O Titan thou doth not maraud

My scampered gains of toil?

Why O Doubt thou doth not foil

March of my muse ever forward?

Art thou all of the immortal Guest so shy

And shuffling by His presence so meekly?
We Go Together
By: Luke Stenger
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium, Poetry Sunday

We go together

Like left and right

Can’t seem to find the center

I guess that means we’re rotten to the core

But it’s alright

We will overcome

Before all is hopeless

And then we will cower

Desolate

Decrepit

No holds barred

The remains lie ashen

Ritualized

Let’s form a new religion.
How Dunning–Kruger effect is killing Monica B’s Youtube career?
By: Isequaltoklasses Navneet
Tags: Poetry Writing, Creativity Tips, Writing Tips, Youtube Tips, Poetry Sunday

A dear friend Monica B

Is as smart as one can be

A PhD in Physics

For 20 years, has been teaching kids

But making YouTube videos she dreads

“They have to be perfect

As my colleagues all over the globe will watch my act”

I was a sales guy for 15 years

Am a 57% engineer

4 years washed down in beer

Fed up of corporate a-holes

Hollow hyperboles

I learnt Physics, ab initio

And uploaded + 300 YouTube videos

Now I am not an internet sensation

Have only friends and students in my subscription

But at times I wonder

While wifey blasts me/my life asunder

“ Why Monica B’s YouTube career is zippo

While I upload my one legged Physics lectures with such gusto?”

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

“The answer” my son said “ is Dunning–Kruger”

(he can read my mind?)

As he pulled his head out of the computer

“You, dear daddy,

belong to a set of people with low ability

who happily overestimate their capability

But people like aunt Monica B

are a set of smart people

whose intelligence is their biggest liability “

I threw my laptop at his head

As the kiddo fled

That much I had to agree

Judging oneself day and night

Is a sure way to snuff

that holy creative light!
Today
By: Amaranta Chavez
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Motivation, Uncertainty, Poetry On Medium

Climb the tallest tree in sight

Run that extra mile,

Help your neighbour with their shopping bags

Just to see them smile.

Dive into freezing water

From that cliff that taunts you

The blanket of blue will catch you below

Even it feels fear too.

Trust your gut

Sail the seas

See the 7 wanders of the world

Push yourself to your limits

And you will reap what you have earned

Kiss them harder

And hug them till you’re numb

Cuz there’s no telling whether tomorrow

Will, or will not come
What a Book Told Me
Tags: Poem, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

What a Book Told Me

Photo:MHJ for iStock

O’ Reader,

pick the pain, not the plot.

rub the wounds, not the words.

take the walk, not the paths.

lick the pages, not the passions.

feel the perceptions, not the reflections.

copy the chemistry, not the characters.

cook the lies, not the truths.

feel the tears, not the trash.

lose in love, not in lust.

carry the wisdom, not the weights of wit.

drink the absence, not the amusements.

open the doors, not the damnations.

make the trouble, not the noise.

swim the sands, no the salts.

ring the bells, not the betrayal.

yell at the page, not at the painting.

cross the bridges, not the tunnels.

sing the melody, not the song.

Fly. Float. Fade.
That Same Song
By: Cassandra Wheeler
Tags: Poetry Writing, Power Of Music, Psyche, Memories, Poetic Prose

Photo by Lee Campbell on Unsplash

That same song

Always stuck in my head

Proving memories exist in music

Reminders of an old life

An old place

An old friend

An old lover
Goodbyes
By: Cambria Covell
Tags: Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poets On Medium, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

And sometimes leaving is the happy ending

You were waiting for

A closed door is an exit

An entry to another place, another space

A new life, a different way

So, don’t cry as you say goodbye

Smile as you think of all the new good times
There are no gladiators here
By: Cambria Covell
Tags: Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

The heroes all died

when we put a price

on democracy and rights

What’s your income they ask?

Your tax bracket might determine the outcome

when a lawyer is put to task of saving your ass

it will make a difference to how your court case has

played out on stage

like a drama for the new age

where anything the courts, the cops, the lawyers themselves

can upstage

truth and justice

but lies, blood, and money

aren’t they the new american way
Sense
By: Cameron Mae
Tags: Help, Writing, Poetry Writing, Sense, Poetry

I've always had a thing for poetry- even simple writing and journaling. Short stories, Novels, scripts, pretty much anything I enjoy doing will be here.
Parts of Us
By: Swasti Patoria
Tags: Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium, Love

You are not one piece

Made up of parts of all kinds

Parts fighting for you

Parts you don’t acknowledge yourself

Parts that can read my face when my head aches

Parts that stop seeing why

Parts that forget the name of my favorite poet

Parts that remember each feeling that we shared 3 years ago

Parts that steal away my smiles

Parts that cant see my cry

Parts building up to your trauma

Parts coping you through them

Parts that see my sadness through the smile

Parts that can’t see the tears rolling down my eyes

Parts that love me

Parts that don’t anymore

Parts, some of them so apart from the other

That makes me question if they come from the same piece

But who gets to choose which ones

Only if relationships were custom made

I’m sure you would leave some parts out of me too

The ones that wont reply back till it’s an honest one

The ones that let you fight your fights alone

The ones that don’t see you enough

But you can’t do that

Not yet anyway so,

Loving all parts liking some

Fighting some holding some

I shall choose everyday

To have all of them with me

Until one day,

When I choose none at all.

Image credits : https://www.prima.co.uk/craft/g30584679/best-puzzles-adults/
Black Banners
By: Mahesh Cr
Tags: Sri Aurobindo, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Yoga, Poetry On Medium

How many villains dost thou harbour

In a fist-sized heart of flesh?

How many mutinous feelings to enmesh

The growing flame of soul’s ardour?

How many shames worm the breast

Under night’s all cloaking shroud?

How many deviances like a Titan proud

Stomping cloved feet in regions unblest?

How many appetites in festering gaze

That marks passage of every breath?

How many misshapen goblins in thought

That brew fumes of a poisonous maze?

These many black banners of infamy

Flutter across the fields of my memory.
Sleepless Night
Tags: Poem, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Sleepless Night

kbeis:for iStock

The tumbling down of the sun,

assembled a dark emptiness,

on which the moon was mourning.

the night was pregnant with,

defiant stars and holy comets.

the winds, untamed by cliffs,

were snoring in the sky.

the graveyards weary of,

field notes of the ghosts and

un-cared flowers,

called the cold caravans,

for sweet lullabies.

the silence was too loud,

to let the body rest.

and the turmoil was too silent

to let the pillow fall.

the blanket was too unruly

to let the thoughts settle.

And the plants,

were worn out after,

pumping oxygen all day long,

from their brittle lungs.

the mist and fog,

to thick to cover the wildness of passions,

the clouds,

too thin to dress the shades of the sky.
Lament of the Lost Dog
Tags: Poetry Writing, Free Verse Poetry, Poetry, Free Verse Form, Poetry On Medium

image by Cheryl Senter

By Day, earth is a puddle

Of melted stars, parched

And brittle against a carpet of smells.

Trampled and broken, they sing

Their hopes for the coming of night.

By dusk, the world is weakening,

The earth bears witness to my imprints,

I retrace them endlessly

Under the blood-streaked sky.

Night brings only torment.

Under roofed stories, the world hums

A monotone aria.

I pant the night away, pine for purpose.

© Nikhil 2020
Our World Is Made Of Blood and Words
By: Cambria Covell
Tags: Poets Unlimited, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Cambria Covell is a serial fiction writer who writes fantasy romance. Her work can be found on the dreame app and at her website cambriacovell.com
Bad Seeds
By: Cambria Covell
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poets On Medium, Poetry, Poems On Medium

And growing up is letting go

And accepting that which you can’t control

Like flowers and weeds

Sometimes you’ll run into bad seeds

Or those who float with the wind

Mere leaves

There is nothing to do but hope you’ll always have fertile land

And grass that’s green for you and me
Hell is empty and all the devils are here
By: Cambria Covell
Tags: Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poets On Medium, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Whoever said the devil was a demon lurking in shadows?

He’s the anger in your veins, the pain in your soul

He’s the blood on the streets, the sins that

haunt you as you grow old, while others are in the ground,

stiff and cold, the drugs eating away at brains and bones

the secrets you left never told that should have been shouted

so, their truths could shine, bold

every scream you pretended not to hear,

left echoing in the wind, rain, and cold

whatever haunts your mind

that’s the devil you know

who fades only if you live your truth

and burn your lies
Liability
By: Cambria Covell
Tags: Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poets On Medium, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

I’m like the sea

I’ve got days where I’m a storm

because I’ve got Calypso making me into such a state

leaving ships in pieces in my wake

and other days I’m so calm you don’t know

when there will be something that makes waves

and I’m not looking for someone to save me

I’m just looking for someone to say, “It’s okay, I love you anyway baby.”

Just don’t tell me I’m too much and leave me hanging

Because I swear if you can survive the heavy rains the days

when I’ve got sunshine will be your best

but only if you haven’t left me
Will Not Endure
By: Pranay Mishra
Tags: Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Photo by Paweł Czerwiński on Unsplash

From what I have lived,

loved, and lost

I mean to live this moment.

For this moment too will not endure

— Pranay Mishra
Four Poems
By: Reija Sillanpaa
Tags: Poem, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Poems Inspired By A One Word Prompt Challenge

Photo by Oliver Roos on Unsplash

DILEMMA

Stood in the crossroads

You offered me a choice

To stay or to follow

I stood, rooted

My feet hesitant

My head and my heart

Like the two sides of a coin

Maybe that’s what I should do

Flip a coin

Leave it to chance

Then, if I were to fall

It would be fate’s fault

Not mine
Europa
By: Jacob Rosen
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry, New Poetry

We got hitched in Brussels,

Our friends gave us away.

Honeymooned in Germany,

I wished that I could stay.

We bought a home in Paris

Where the streets are paved with gold

And summered up in Iceland

Where the ice is never cold.

Found careers in Italy,

Put lira in a shoe

To save and go to Sicily.

What else were we to do?

Had our kids in Kosovo

Among the grass and flower growth

But schooled them up in Oslo, though

To start them off anew.

The years upend

Our roots and then

We’re shipping to the Netherlands

Then Luxembourg

Then France again

To dine in Saint Tropez.

Galway Girls and Celtic wars,

Those Isles, thick with metaphors,

They do well to remind us that our hair has turned to gray.

The Baltic states and Bucharest

Our bodies faded into dust

Put us out to sea to rest

No nation has our graves.

With land explored and love unlost,

No nation has our graves.
CELEBRATING AGE,
By: Summi Sinha
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Poetry

I am celebrating age,

I heard a rude laugh

Somewhere in the crowd

Does being aged need a celebration ?

They frowned!

Some may find it witty ,

Some nutty ,

Some stupidity and some gritty

But I am not bothered

Being aged has taught me that .

Although I know I am a leftover

Of my yesteryears

A little me here ,

A little me there,

My face dried and sketchy

Freckles daunting

My eyes froggy and dull

All thanks to my thyroid !

My tresses of gold

Slowly withering

Leaving the scalp

My swan neck

Now almost turtled .

My breast once tight and ripened

Rounded like a soft ball

Responsive to each stare

Ohh!what envy I saw in damsels eye!

And desire in beau’s mind!

But now it sits quite lower

A flower wilted

Cleavage apart

Distanced lovers

In rage

Never wanting to see one another

When I laid on my bed.

My dotted tits sitting on my supple breast

Like the king on the throne !

Tight and taut

My tip of sensuality but

No touch can make it tight and taut

Like it did a decade ago.

My vulva once a stream of lust and passion ,

Now a dried well of old mansion

My tip of iceberg my clits

My tip of sexuality

Lies dead below the ground

No amounts of arousal

Can lift it anymore .

Those blushes

Red in my face

Adrenaline rushing

Ohh!the torture

Of hot flushes!

My periods are all haywire

They come and go

Like guests of old age home

Although I do need my estrogen

But they come at places

I don’t want them at all.

My hips once round and porcelain

Twerking

Squatting

Almost to the ground

Now flabby and dimpled

I cant sway them at all.

I stare myself

In the mirror

Those folds on my midriff

Twirling like a python

I do sometimes feel cold

But I know

Old is gold!

Holds truth

In bold!

I don’t feel anorexic

Seeing those flabs

With the load around me

I feel like

A teddy in bliss.

I love my body

Young or ole!

It has been my Heaven

My home

Where I stayed as a baby

And as a grown up girl

One day I will fly away

Into a faraway distant land

But I will carry my memories of this beautiful home

My home of bliss

My home of dreams

Which being aged!

Has taught me nevertheless!!!
This time. A self-reflection poem.
By: Nancy Nunez
Tags: Self Improvement, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Growth, Poems On Medium

Maybe this is the time to just breath.

Maybe it’s not about finding anyone anymore to fill your void.

Maybe this is the time to finally let go of all the layers of agony, despair, and perceptions you’ve carried.

Maybe this is the time to conquer your fears.

Maybe this is the time to believe in you.

Maybe this is the time to weap.

Maybe this is the time to be honest with yourself.

Maybe this is the time to say no more than yes.

Maybe this is the time stop all the comparing.

Maybe this is the time to forgive your past.

Maybe this is the time to be ok with doing one small action to keep you moving forward and get you through your day.

Maybe this is the time when you finally say yes to you.

Maybe this is the time when you accept yourself just as you are with all your beautiful flaws.

Maybe this is the time when you learn to fully love yourself.

Maybe this is the time to show up with all the love, kindness, empathy, respect, confidence, and integrity you have always had.

Maybe this is the time to focus on becoming a better version of yourself while helping others shine and making this world a little better together.
Here’s What Art Is
By: Ebube Umeobi
Tags: Poetry Writing, Musings, Art

Here's what art is:

Art doesn’t need to be understood

Because understanding could elude

Art doesn’t need to be fresh and on time

Because it gets better like wine

Art doesn’t need to be

Art is what is
SITUATIONS
By: Anina Evans
Tags: Romance, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Love Letters

I am a mother, a grandmother and a sister. I have a legal background, along with a healthcare background. I consider myself a Mystic my experiences are factual.
I Have
By: Mahesh Cr
Tags: Sri Aurobindo, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Yoga, Poetry On Medium

I have rowed the strange seas of melancholy

Friended only by the steady moaning oar,

Drifting and circling towards the magic shore

Where awaits blessed feet of divine company.

I have climbed the questing peaks cliff ridden,

Perched like a bird on those rough crevices,

Pitched my heart flame in the stony silences

And by kindling prayer the Sun did summon.

I have pursued many alchemies of the old

Forgotten times, and with incantations galore

I have raised up flames from every pore

And turned breathing flesh to living gold.

I have stood on peaks the heart dares not

Dwell a passing moment fearing the query

That rose from every babe’s lip as a cry

‘Oh why, oh why must spirit stoop to dust!’

I have pondered like the mountain stone,

In my snow-garbed heart the queries

That rack the sun-blaze and the furies

That range the earth since it all began.

I have listened with the pebble ears

The ocean’s wailing waves and pain

Of separation from beloved silver moon,

In each crashed shore bore her tears.

I have voiced the silent cry of every thing,

Beseeching for Thy light and Thy being.
Odiferous Poem
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poetry, Smells, Humor, Haiku

Odiferous Poem

Hey, Mr. Hotshot!

Believe your stuff doesn’t smell?

Better stink again.