fabiochiu/medium-articles huggingface dataset:
4 Virality-Lessons From the Most Viral Writer Alive
By: Louis Petrik
Tags: Marketing, Drake, Viral, Rap, Music

You only need viral components

What is actually meant by “viral”? In the classical sense, viral means the extraordinary, digital distribution of something — be it a video, an image, a message, an article, or whatever.

When I talk about Drake’s virality, I don’t mean whole songs that get record-breaking clicks on YouTube and streams on Spotify. He already manages that anyway.

It is the individual parts of Drake’s work that go viral.

Challenges, dances, and above all, individual passages of text from what Drake sings and raps.

Especially on TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube, videos of people doing things like the In My Feelings-Challenge or the Toosie Slide are reaching out.

Both are named after Drake's songs — advantageous marketing of his music — without him having to do anything great to get it.

These things go viral in social media trends and reach people who have not been reached by Drake’s music before.

All he had to do in Toosie Slide was to show the dance steps in the official music video.

He released the song Toosie Slide in April 2020, which has 240 million clicks on YouTube — quite a lot. But it’s getting even bigger. Because what went viral about this song is not the lyrics but the dance he performs in the video.

On TikTok, clips under the hashtag #toosieslide have a total of 6.3 billion views. Correctly heard, billions. The trend has conquered the platform — and with it, it has managed to reach many new people.

Besides viral videos, it has another strength — expressing the attitude towards many people's lives in its target group. Drake manages to highlight individual lines in his expressive and memorable music — they then conquer the world in the form of captions, tweets, and even WhatsApp status.

So it is not primarily whole songs or music videos of Drake that are viral — but the individual parts that conquer the Internet and help Drake reach more, virtually-free of charge, even with people who otherwise have no contact with his music.
Put That On Your Playlist: Player’s Ball (Reprise)
By: Charles Blouingascon
Tags: Hip Hop, Outkast, Rap, Culture, Music

Song: Player’s Ball (Reprise)

Album: Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik

Honourable mention: ? (Stankonia)

— — —

Look, we’re not proud about it either but we manage to slide in part of Player’s Ball, this song that first introduced the duo to the rest of the universe, on this playlist. We’re definitely well aware that this version pales in comparison to the original — the latter stands as the greatest Christmas song of all time — but there’s really nowhere for us to slot the original. Are we supposed to disregard our love for stealth Aquemini MVP Slump? No entirely not, we’re not.

This exercise isn’t perfect. But at least we have (part of) Player’s Ball.

— — —

Beat: 7/10

Lyrics: 7/10

Overall: 7/10
Ohio Artist KB ELITE DROPS “Move”
By: Tmc Music Group
Tags: Ohio, Rap, Music, Trippieredd, Trap

Emerging Ohio Artist KB ELITE comes with a outstanding visual Directed by KB FLIMS the fire visual displays his melodic sound and melodies meanwhile he is helping you understand why he is always on the Move. The Drugged out Candance and Delivery of his lyrics often express why fake love will have you on the move and not complacent or content with everything around him. KB Elite has grown a huge online presence of 100k followers on Instagram which lead to also having a relationship with Mega Superstar Trippie Redd.

Check out “Move” and be sure to follow the young rising star on Instagram @Kbelite333

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LLW5Xwi8ts
Rap songs that talk about having children
By: Nazreen Mohamad
Tags: Politics, Philosophy, Society, Rap, Children

Disclaimer: at the moment, the more accurate title for this post is ‘Rap songs (from male rappers) that talk about having sons’ as this is what the 2 songs listed here currently talk about. Once I find other representations, i.e. female rappers or those on having daughters, I will update this list.

Narcy — Sun

‘Sun’ by Iraqi-Canadian Narcy sees him talking about his son in this groovy tune from 2015.

He jam packs this piece with all the wisdom he’s gained throughout his life:

Be a man with a brave soul, get a hold of your own space, no one will save you. You’re my favourite, be modest

Narcy has no doubts about his son’s brilliance, as he sings the hook:

I call my son sun ‘cos he shine like one.

Lowkey — baby steps

The usually impersonal Lowkey begins his 2020 track with these heavy words:

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself. They come through you, but not from you. And though they are with you, they belong, not to you.

Lowkey does not take his new fatherhood lightly, stating his commitment:

My life instead of yours, I would smile, and give it freely.

Bonus: Akala — Your and my children

This is not about having children but about children in general.

Akala reframes the whole question of social ills in society. What is the bottom line of all the problems? What’s really at stake? Our children.
ARP
By: Zhang Pascal
Tags: Arp, Network

ARP Mean Address Resolution Protocole.

ARP is use in network, when a device have to send data to another device on the same network.

Here a little draw :

First, Device A will search for the target device, by sending a broadcast message, with the target device ip address, in the network.

If a device in the network have this ip, it will send back he mac address.

Device A will receive this reply and store the ip address and mac address in he ARP cache, it can now create a connection (usually a tcp connection) to communicate with the targeted device.

Have a good day.

Link :

http://cisco.num.edu.mn/CCNA_R&S1/course/module5/5.2.1.2/5.2.1.2.html
Koenig solutions in now UiPath Learning Partner
By: Rajesh Rajagopalan Nambiar
Tags: Reskilling, Uipath, Skilling, Rpa, Upskilling

Koenig — UiPath

Today, we announced our partnership with Koenig solution to help build an ecosystem of skilled Robotic Process Automation (RPA) professionals. The partnership will help upskill and reskill individuals or teams with courses aligned to UiPath Certified Professional (UCP) certifications.

All classes are delivered by instructors with valid UCP credentials, and with required technical and instructional expertise. Classes are available in various formats including in-person, online and blended.

Learn more about the courses and schedule via https://www.koenig-solutions.com/uipath-certification-training-courses
Emicida é um amigo que nunca conheci
By: Kaue Olah Lopes
Tags: Emicida, Netflix, Amarelo, Rap, Medium Brasil

Learn more. Medium is an open platform where 170 million readers come to find insightful and dynamic thinking. Here, expert and undiscovered voices alike dive into the heart of any topic and bring new ideas to the surface. Learn more

Make Medium yours. Follow the writers, publications, and topics that matter to you, and you’ll see them on your homepage and in your inbox. Explore
Put That On Your Playlist: Chonkyfire
By: Charles Blouingascon
Tags: Hip Hop, Outkast, Rap, Culture, Music

Song: Chonkyfire

Album: Aquemini

Honourable mention: D.E.E.P. (Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik)

— — —

If we ever make a movie, and this is looking less and less likely with each passing day given our age but humour us just a little while, if we ever make a movie yes, it will be Chonkyfire that plays during the end credits. Could be any kind of movie, from comedy to romcom, from prestige drama to slasher thriller, once the end credits roll that’s the song that will play. Right at the end of the last scene of the movie, we’ll hear a single note of distorted guitar, then a pause and the screen will fade to black just as we hear a Whoooooo and a rocking accordion-like sound. Chonkyfire. “We reign, reign, supreme, ‘preme

Dungeon, dungeon kings,” tell me you can’t hear the chorus right now as you watch the end credits of this hypothetical movie roll by.

Chonkyfire will play during the end credits and we won’t do like some movies where they play one song for the beginning of the credits, then switch to another one for the longer version of the credits. Nah. Chonkyfire will play through and through and it’ll just be up to our editor to fit everything inside the song’s 6:11 runtime. We’ll let it play from beginning to end yes, including the part where the results of the 1995 Source Awards are announced and we get to hear that the South got sumnth to say.

“And the winner is…. OutKast!!”

What a great song. This is my story, this is my song, indeed.

— — —

Beat: 10/10

Lyrics: 8/10

Overall: 10/10
SK TGM Releases New Single “Comme Des Garçons”
By: Yunaisy Morales
Tags: Hip Hop, Rap, Sktgm, Music, Tennessee

SK TGM has put together a track for us to close out 2020 right. TGM has been dropping exciting music for quite some time. His rhythm and flow are unlike many other artists trying to crack the seal. His differences allow him to succeed in an industry where many talents try to mimic each other. This record was released on Nov 30, and is titled “Comme Des Garçons”. This song receives direct inspiration from designer brands and fashion.

Throughout this piece, TGM tries to bring out the happier side of his audience by motivating them to buy designer pieces just as he does. He feels that if you dress nice and feel confident, you will perform at a higher level as well. His strong use of lyricism in this track is evident and shows his true potential as an artist. Be on the lookout in the early months of 2021 as he teases the release date of a new EP hitting the market.

Keep up with SK TGM and more of his latest updates by following him on Instagram.
Designated Pain
By: J. Abrams
Tags: Writing, Betrayal, Poetry, Rap, Rhymes

Why is it so easy to hurt the people you love the most?

Is it because you know exactly which buttons to poke?

Or maybe because you think no matter what you do they will stay, and never go?

Do you think they deserve to be disrespected — a little extra

Just for loving you in return?

If it’s easier to hurt the people you love the most,

Then I must be one of your favorite folks.
𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐳𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐛 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤
By: 𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞.
Tags: Poems, Writing, Poet, Lucifer

in I Do See Color
5 am stream of consciousness
By: Conrad Violet
Tags: Late Night Thoughts, Poetry, Follow, Poet, Poem

5 am stream of consciousness

I find myself practicing conversations with you,

So I say exactly what, I think, we need.

So you’ll never know how sad I was

because in some way you seem to feel my pain

and you hurting is worse than bluffing.

Too often I find your name on my tongue

because, if I talk about you then

you’ll never be gone.

I’m aware you’ll take on other forms throughout my lifetime

That’s the worst part

How will I know which one to fight for?

In my mind I’ve built paradise

So has everyone

Most don’t match.

Maybe that’s what Love is,

Parallel paradises.

Or maybe Love is nonsense

and we should stop trying to define it

How do we know we’re all experiencing

the same feeling when we say Love?

You will never know the colours your eyes can’t see

You will never know the emotions that haven’t shaken you

Perhaps ignorance is bliss

But the depth of what I’ve felt

Allows for layers of connection

A child could not understand.

The same way I cannot grasp the idea of

who I will be five minutes from now.

. It has been ten minutes.

. I am in bed crying at a poem “you” just wrote.

. The first birds of the morning sing to my sadness.

Time is so fucking wierd.
Mahavir Prasad Dwivedi Full Biography, Wikipedia, he wrote books, he’s great success And More
By: Prachi Katalkar
Tags: Hindi, Writer, Poet, Hindiwriters

In Daulatpur village in Rae Bareli district (Baiswara), Uttar Pradesh, Mahavir Prasad Dwivedi was born on 15 May 1864. The name of his father was Pt. Dubey Ramsahay. These were Brahmins from Kanyakubja. His educational order could not last long due to wealth. He got a GIP Railway job. 1 year of stay at the Ajmer Railway Department at 25 years of age. His father left for Mumbai after losing his job and studied telegraph work and joined the Indian Midland Railway as Tar Babu. Along with the work, in addition to Hindi, Dwivedi also participated in studies and got a strong understanding of Marathi, Gujarati, Sanskrit etc.

Mahavir Prasad Dwivedi was an Indian Hindi author and editor (15 May 1864–21 December 1938). Adhunikkaal is divided into four stages, or the Modern Period of Hindi literature, and represents the second phase after him, known as the Dwivedi Yug (1893–1918), which was preceded by the Bharatendu Yug (1868–1893), followed by the Chhayavad Yug (1918–1937) and the Contemporary Period (1937-present).

Dwivedi took charge of editing the monthly magazine Saraswati in 1903 and played it efficiently for seventeen years. He began permanently editing the work of ‘Saraswati’ after resigning from the job in 1904. Dwivedi came to his village after taking leave from editing jobs, working as the editor of Saraswati for just Rs. 20 per month after leaving the job of Rs. 200 monthly. He died in Rae Bareli on 21 December 1938 due to serious illness.
You, my love
Tags: Poetry, Relationships, Poet, Love, Poetry On Medium

You, my love

i hope that

You, will never feel alone

You, will never forget me

You, will never replace our memories

You, will always hold me dear

as You, my love

will always be near to me

as an imprint of the soul You shared

will always have a home within me
Something About Why a Robin Sings
By: Cassidy Bishop
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Happy, Poem, Experimental

Turn it once, turn it twice

the lamp won’t light unless you’re patient with it

A calm marigold hue,

I think the extra money spent on those

bulbs made my bedroom walls breathe a sigh of relief

Sometimes, though,

their off-white skin reminds me of when I knew you

Waking up early in the morning, I let the chilly air find a home in my bed.

Freezing my fingertips.

I romanticize the little things -

A lamp, sleeping with the windows open,

cold cold hands.

I remember when I was so good I was over romanticized to the point where you didn’t even recognize me anymore.

I wonder if you are still capable of loving someone to the point where

the red spoons in your utensil drawer turn happily to silver

as if they’d found themselves for the first time

There’s time that I cannot account for — my

brain can’t handle recalling even the good memories sometimes.

Though I want to remember,

I am whole,

I am whole,

I am whole even without them.

After all, it is not the weather that makes a robin sing,

it’s their sarynx.

I am afraid I will not love anyone again -

but there is a note I tacked to my bed frame that

tells me to leave those robins singing for all the right reasons.
Index Card
By: Almighty Sonoxo
Tags: Rva Mag, Poet, Index Card, 24kmediaproductions, Almighty Sonoxo

Figure it out like analyst

I ignore all the attention the social handles give , Don’t walk wishy washy we do the salsa Im on fire with the quick hip action better watch who you dancing with.

See god forgives and I don’t , Divinely aligned with the star seeds of the galaxy so me tripping ? I don’t.

Change a little bring some new results ,

Work hard and stay educated people mad that they tipping to get it written off.

Build a fortress always know the outcome , People who ain’t never gave the blueprint lonely , They got out run.

I shed a mold you like the old version.

They never want you to evolve from pain you stay the same you gon keep hurting.

I don’t do this shit for fame , Don’t need to be a pick of your top five of who could do it Dead or Alive , Written down on an index card I found outside.
Ambition Ammunition
Tags: Poetry, Happiness, Poet, Poem, Poetry On Medium

Ambition Ammunition

One hour into the night, drifting on to where I roam.

Passing by the city lights, I went on down to old Macomb.

A man he played the bangos, with a crowd of only a few

A one-two tapping combo, with his liquor and weed in view

Man went by ALove Supreme, his hands were fervent with fire

True happiness was his dream, a Grammy was his desire

I was down at Verno Jays, I saw all the platinum and gold

One album labeled "Baaaayyy Buh," curations of his legend told.

I loved him so I loved him so, his skin deep with passion and free

Gave me such pleasure I'd forgo, now I'm sippin' Jack Dan's whiskey.

Yes he's buried in Thailand, he traveled many music worlds.

By the palm of my own hand, I swear he played for no one girl.

Now that you've heard this story

My head stayed bowed to my shoes

Each time I see his glory

I get them ol ambition blues

If anybodys askin'

I got them ol ambition blues
Image by Florian Klauer on Unsplash
Tags: Startup, Writing, Art, Poetry, Poet

Scrivo io.

I write because I remember. I write to forget.

I write to express. The hurt, sadness,

Joys and all the happiness.

I write to be seen. I write to be heard.

I write to bury the past. To hide behind a mask.

I write to exhume what’s left of a heart. To inhibit myself.

I write to escape the darkness. To run into the light.

I write to be vague. I write to be obvious.

To bespeak feelings.

I write to be understood.

I write to create memories.

I write to color the world.
CHRISTMAS DAY IN LOS ANGELES: A POEM
By: The Rambling Pirate
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Christmas Poem, Rambling Man, Poem

Christmas Day in Los Angeles is a poem from my second book Good News for the Bad News Blues. I’ve spent many a Christmas in L.A. and it’s an interesting place each day of the year, good or bad, but Christmas in particular always felt quite unique to any other place I ever spent Christmas. There’s still Christmas trees and eggnog and all that jazz, the city is still decorated and lights hang on the streets and just a warning if you’ve never seen it before, if you put Christmas lights on a palm tree, the palm trees will look like dicks. Anyway, I figured I’d share the following poem, I wrote it not thinking about dick shaped palm tress but thinking about that different feeling. The feeling that only comes around once a year when it’s Christmas Day in Los Angeles.

CHRISTMAS DAY IN LOS ANGELES

It’s Christmas Day in Los Angeles

The streets are clearer than you’d ever see

It seems like everybody

Has traveled home

Everyone just visits this city y’know

Most

Only last a year or two

Before a life of dreaming falls through

Back up north

Back to the south

Across to the midwest

It doesn’t matter where

Every Christmas

There’s a mass exodus

And the city’s left bare

With false snow

Decorated palm trees

Chinese food and Kentucky whiskey

It’s Christmas Day in Los Angeles

I worked the bar Christmas Eve

Not many customers

But tips they would love to leave

As a little Christmas bonus for me

I suppose we paid for each others’ company

Christmas Day in LA

People go to the movies

Maybe a diner

Meet up with their rag-tag friends

The ones with either no place to go

Or not enough money to travel home

It’s Christmas Day in Los Angeles

Raise a glass of whatever you can find

Let’s drink till the spirits ease our mind

Sure the sky is blue

And it might not be as cold as we’re used to

But we do what we do

When it’s Christmas Day in Los Angeles
I’ve seen the moon weep tears
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Moon, Poem, Sun

I’ve seen the moon weep tears

For me.

I mean how couldn’t she?

Many nights I’ve stayed up late

And she’s listened to my sorrows

Telling me she hopes I feel

Different tomorrow.

I’ve seen the moon smile

Down on me.

I mean how couldn’t she?

Many nights I’ve stayed out late

And she’s watched over me.

Praying tomorrow continues to bring

Nothing but good things.

I’ve seen the moon hide

From me.

I mean how couldn’t she?

Many nights I cursed her name.

I blamed her for my pain.

Yet she still forgave me

And loved me just the same.
Please take a look and let me know what you think of this draft https://lyricpoetryofficial.blogspot.com
By: The Poet
Tags: Writing, Poetry, Poet, Reading, Blog

in Getting Into Chess
Straight Laced & Poker-faced;
Tags: Creative Writing, Prose Poem, Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium

Justified how I spend my time, free from you I know I feel just fine, I stood the test, I passed through the duress, I’m free. I have a spine it’s not twisted like he, clench fisted, teeth grinding, animalistic and bemused, such the despicable mess, the likes of you, now I’m the one amused, free from the insanity that is you.

Justify how I stood the test of time, to thank you for bettering me is all I’m grateful for, pushing me up against you door, bought back my visions just as before. I’m like the old me I used to be, but evolved and inching ever so closer to 2023, I’ve never felt so free having you so far away from me.

Fear doesn’t drive me, I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be. Never shall you receive an apology from me, I can’t lie, I’ve no need to hide. No longer bide my time, your a nasty fruit fly, like a cancer everything you touch will die. Forever you shall circle, infecting your disease, there will be others just the same as me.

The ocean is too vast to cast and make it last, the hook is getting rusty, you’re much older than you would like to be. How much longer can you insist to score, before everyone slams the door, leaving you empty like before. You are not the one I choose to adore, I can not be held down, you have no power anymore.

You played your hand, I called your bluff, lust should never trust, straight lased and poker-faced, I unveiled your mask. The tables have turned, be careful or you’ll get burnt, I have the power to reveal to the world, the despicable mess you truly are. In the end, I’m much the same as before, just more evolved, inching through to 2024.
Why I Stopped Writing Poetry
By: Claire Boyce
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Poem, Poems And Stories

I stopped writing.

Stopped putting pen to paper

Stopped listening to the raindrops of my soul

Because the paper was too bright,

Ink was too dark, the contrast

Harmonized with nothing and created

Rivulets of discord, raining down in space

And time.

I stopped because the shift became

Too strong and the words became

Like jello underfoot, melted into

A simple pot of pentameter

That I wanted to walk away from

Before it consumed me.

I wanted to get away from all the

Weirdness and all of the poets

Become something real and stagnant

And valuable in the world,

Not floating from tree to trainwreck

Pontificating softly on the dew-down

On the nape of my lover’s neck.
You abandoned me
Tags: Poetry, Relationships, Lovesick, Poet, Love

You abandoned me

You left me

You dropped me like a pin

that you could not be bothered to find

I knew it would happen

I knew it was coming

I could have turned the tables

but then i would have questioned.

So it’s better to know, it was true

the interest you may have once had

was lost, was gone, was erased

i guess it’s too bad that mine lingers on

as a shadow that i can’t seem to shake
I don’t know where to begin
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Love, Twin Flame, Poetry On Medium

Because I don’t know where it will end

You left me, a zombie with a pen

Red ink stained teeth, gnashing at nothing

Scribbling to fill the holes in the hope

you left again.

Bleeding, blending, breaking down

pages on pages on pages until the ink

runs out

I…

write

write

write

So we will be right in the end.
Flow of Life
By: The Power Of Poetry
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poem, Life, Waves

Within a cycle they go

Never tried to slow

A lot they symbolize

Never get wretched they guide
hankering
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Adventure, Poetry, Storytelling, Poet, Poem

do you know

the longing for

fresh, crisp air

unseen mountains

riveting waves

that meet your toes

on unfamiliar shores

newness.

climb the green stem

upward to the rose

curved paths and

brilliant colors

an explorer’s hankering

do you know

there is more to living

than sitting on the edge

of a thorn?
niwala
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Poetry, Storytelling, Poet, Culture, Poem

fingers claw the soft flesh of a mango pickle

mixing it with bronze masala

the familiar solace of childhood

first taste. tender sensation.

a small memory of home

wrapped in a niwala.

from outside

rain knocks on the windows

clouds watch our prosaic performance

on days like this

we set aside our dreams to marinate

wrap ourselves in circumstance

turn custom into medicine.
Why I Write
By: Alexandra Androne
Tags: Writing, Writer, Poet, Blue Insights, Thoughts

How it started

I wrote my first prose lines at the age of 20, almost 7 years ago and I barely remember what led me to this brave act but here I am. I started my Medium journey in July this year because I really wanted to share my thoughts with a community that understands what it means to be careful with your soul. By putting on paper how you feel, what you see, your deepest desires you start to see the world with other eyes. However, at the same time, writing helps me exercise my English grammar.

As a clinical psychologist, I always want to spread the kindest words for my patients, just because they need to understand that sometimes a word said at the right time changes a life. It wasn’t easy for me to start to share my thoughts with a community that doesn’t know me, but at the same time, I find out that this is the best way to understand me better.

I don’t follow any rules, I just follow my heart in terms of writing. Actually, I think that is no rule book for writing. When the poem comes from the bottom of your heart, the reader can really feel and also imagine what kind of soul the writer has.

Desire to be heard, I write about everything, from love, peace, soul, friendship, to even fantasy, just because I know that out there are some people who need to hear a poem that interferes with their state of mind. I start to believe that my second name is empathic. In our age is so important to understand the needs of the other and if you can, to help them.

I am more on the poem’s side and I remember how my heart jumped when I sended my first poem to a publication and after 2 hours I received an email that MY POEM was accepted and published, Francine Fallara made my day. That little thing motivates me and opens up my eyes that I can really do this, to write, because everyone needs to be heard.

I write because it gives me a free state of mind and I want to become one of the writers who let a mark on someone's soul. It feels so good dancing with words. I want to inspire, to heal others' souls, and to understand what life’s about.

Perhaps through writing, I have the opportunity to improve the relationship between the soul and the mind.
she whispers
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Poetry, Storytelling, Poet, Poem, Self

clouds softly wrap themselves around golden light

the pillow says my name as the cat yawns and

stretches her legs across the bed

somnolence places her heavy palms

against my eyes

there is work to be done

my mouth spills the

long, lazy objection

and time

she whispers.
Incipient Digestion
By: Caylie Hausman
Tags: Anxiety, Poet, Poems On Medium, Depression, Poetry On Medium

digital collage by caylie hausman

there are poems I have written

that will never stain the internet,

never breathe air or see sun.

they are..

too personal, too much

of you, or don’t belong in plain view;

they exist in the wasteland

space of shit I wish

I had the gall

to reveal.

As much as I give you

I hide, yet

I linger with a smile

and reveal what’s true,

not everyone likes

to participate in the active

shitscape of the present. (me too).

sometimes we need an escape,

hatch to blast

off in

a pretty picture

to clutch on to.

our minds

will hold us down

say “hear us out” and

sting like a herd of hornets

making you want to

resurrect walls and seal up

air tight; launching into

a vacuum as vast as space,

a flock of what-ifs in their

natural habitat, a fight for the land

between what has been

and what is,

the view from above

is no longer crisp

as we rise into orbit

and launch into a between

state.

Limbo.

Stuck in the atmosphere,

akin to a mouse’s carcass

in full view through

lumpy snake skin,

our demise is incipient

as gases bubble and implode;

seeking out peace

as if it’s free, when we know

it’s not, just some

simple thought the universe

forgot while washing

her hair in the shower.

A great creator, but

not a great maintainer,

forgot to look at

what she already had

going. We are stuck in

the queue,

or maybe not even

that far through–

forever holding on

for one more hour.
your name
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Love, Poem, Emotions

along the way, I misplaced the sweetness

of your name

checked my tongue to search for signs

that zest remained

found

no more than a pile of letters

tasteless and

uninspired

alright-perhaps

there was a trace

but gone is passion

all the same.
haunted wings
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Feminism, Haiku, Poetry, Poet, Poem

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Art
By: Tina Altman
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Poem, Poetry On Medium

Art is transitionary

Like LIFE

It works its magic

On those with Vision
slow down
By: Nik Levi
Tags: Creative Writing, Poetry, Poet, Poetry On Medium, Daily Thoughts

when your brain spins to fast

follow your own demands

sit down, lay down, stand up, pick anywhere

inhale through your nose

release through your mouth

let it go everywhere

let go

release your shoulders,

let them slide down

feel the energy radiate out

let your neck dive down

hang you chin to your chest

breath in through your nose

and out through your mouth

feel your toes stretch out

wiggle them around

press all five toe pads into the ground

breath in

breath out

slow down

its okay to slow down

its okay to slow down
CYCLES (poem)
By: Abril. A
Tags: Philosophy, Poet, Love, Poem, Thoughts

CYCLES (poem)

I try to fill this hole inside me with

people that I trick myself into liking

or by stuffing my mouth up

with food when things get too tough

or too real

and I can’t handle the pain any longer

wishing I felt the same way

hoping things were easier

wishing I was normal

hoping to be able to love and be loved in return

but the silence is too strong

and thinking makes my tears sprint out of my eyes

what if im meant to be alone?

I can’t think of a world without people

but yet when I get home i’m all alone

with my overly eager mind

making me go over things so much it consumes me

left to wonder staring at the walls

keep wishing someone would talk to me

maybe that would help

I feel so hopeless sometimes

like something’s missing

and living without it is a death wish

but yet here I am, wandering around

no place to go

no place to be

home is not a house

home is a person

and im homeless

I built a shelter inside me

to protect me from the cold

but now it’s too strong to let anyone in

im scared, and lonely

when will this feeling end?

my heart and soul will shatter

into a thousand pieces

only so that I can pick them and myself up again

until there’s nothing left to put together

Abril. A
My Longing is Yours
By: Muhamad Aldi Ramadhan
Tags: Rhyme, Poetry, Poet, Poem, Puisi

Within emptiness, dear Divinity

My blood flow with certainty

Towards your downstream of Your mercy

Has all of my longing not for You?
visiting a wound
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Poetry, Storytelling, Poet, Poem, Emotions

I sank you in the recesses of my memory

hurled our promises into oblivion

forbade my ears from hearing

the songs that moved our bodies

conquered the to-do list of banishment

with manufactured flair.

I saw you the other day

fossil of a man who laced his fingers through my own

those moments-grains of sand

which sent a rage-infused love reeling

the final scene

a disillusionment I have named resolve

what do we do with tainted love

that adulterated high?

where do I crack my own ossified sensibility

return to flesh for the vital endeavor

the slicing and the healing?
the gardener
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Poetry, Storytelling, Poet, Poem, Life

look closely

she uncurled the petal

gently

how much beauty

is in the delicate

tracing her fingers down

she paused upon

the sturdy green stem

but what of the strength-

is it not magnificent?

she continued until

her pristine fingers

lay upon the dirt

these- roots and soil

the means of sustenance

that allow the majesty

of a garden

no one ever calls them

“pretty”

we are taught

what to find lovely.
amygdala
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Feminism, Poetry, Poet, Women, Poem

two almonds of emotion burrow

in the nest of a mind

they cause such commotion

synaptic lines are traffic jams

neurotic thoughts slam horns

you know,

you’re running out of time

there is a cyanide hazard

in the bitter and the wild

cushioned on the tongue

of a girl superficially mild

I peel old skin to air out discomfort

and spin in my palm the lilliputian things

silent and fragile, yet so overbearing.
Your EXISTENCE is your experience. Do not belittle it. You’re worth the moon and more.
Tags: Writing, Poetry, Poet, Hope, Poetry On Medium

Your EXISTENCE is your experience. Do not belittle it. You’re worth the moon and more.
eyes wide
Tags: Poetry, Alone, Poet

eyes wide

sight burning

prick of tears excruciating

as my vision blurs

extorted figures passing by

as i stand alone in a crowd
The Poet Jesús Sepúlveda
By: Jesús Sepúlveda
Tags: Poetry, Jesús Sepúlveda, Garden Of Peculiarities, Poet, Poet Jesús Sepúlveda

Jesús Sepúlveda — Foto por Sarah Grew.

Jesús Sepúlveda is a Chilean poet and essay writer, living in the American Northwest since 1995.

He is the author of ten poetry collections and three books of essays, including his green anarchist manifesto The Garden of Peculiarities (2002).

Sepúlveda’s selected poems were collected in Poemas de un bárbaro (Santiago de Chile, 2013) and Wirikuta, a chapbook published for the International Poetry Festival of Puerto Rico in 2019.

Hotel Marconi (1998), a collection translated into English by poet Paul Dresman, was made into a film in Chile in 2009.

Sepúlveda’s work has been translated from Spanish into twelve languages and published in more than twenty countries, leading him to participate in many poetry festivals and readings throughout the world.

The Sylt Foundation sponsored him to be a writer-in-residence in South Africa in 2016 and Germany in 2018, and an invited poet in Cambodia in 2017. In 2019 the Instituto de Cultura Oregoniana awarded him First Prize for Poetry in Spanish in the state of Oregon.

His other collections include Lugar de origen (Santiago de Chile, 1987), Correo negro (Buenos Aires, 2001), Escrivania (Mexico, 2003), Antiegótico (Viña del Mar, 2013), and Secoya (New York, 2015). Espejo de los detalles [Mirror of Details] is his latest collection, published in a bilingual edition in 2020.

Know Jesús Sepúlveda’s official website: poetajesussepulveda.com
waiting for voice
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Feminism, Haiku, Poetry, Poet, Poem

Learn more. Medium is an open platform where 170 million readers come to find insightful and dynamic thinking. Here, expert and undiscovered voices alike dive into the heart of any topic and bring new ideas to the surface. Learn more

Make Medium yours. Follow the writers, publications, and topics that matter to you, and you’ll see them on your homepage and in your inbox. Explore
I yearn for her embrace
Tags: Poetry, Relationships, Lovesick, Poet, Love

I yearn for her embrace

the warmth

the safety

never did i think i would never feel it again

her scent

so comforting

had become a sign of protection

of happiness

now when i smell a similar perfume

i remember

the memories flash in front of me

taking over my mind

my sight clouded by the image of her smile
Fireside Chats
By: Cambria Covell
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Poem, Poetry On Medium

I went to the mouth of hell

Asked Lucifer why he fell

He said you could only take too much Heaven

Before it got to you as well

Nothing good stays

Even when you pray

Eventually your words will lose their meaning

And you’ll twist your faith

And he told me it wasn’t about falling from grace

It was about finding a space where you could breathe

Because sometimes smoke and flames

Are better than penance and shames
here
By: Nik Levi
Tags: Creative Writing, Daily Blog, Poetry, Poet, Poetry On Medium

where are we?

here.

here where?

together

together with who?

with us. we are god.

god is there a devil?

yes, we are here.

the devil is here?

we are the devil. we are here.

are there demons?

that’s for you to say.

i can see them, are they here?

if you are here, they are here.

why are we here?

we travel together.

can i leave the devil behind?

all you have to do is say good-bye

good-b — — be warned that god will not be left behind.

can i leave the demons? i must ease my mind.

they can only go where you reside.

then let us leave! where we are no longer here.

here will remain here, until we are there.

there is not a place where you can hide

i did not invite you in! you cannot stay!

no you did not, but we have nowhere to go.

here is our home

then here you will stay! i will go!

go on as far as you want.

but do not be ashamed

when you look up

here won’t be far away.
I want the magic, from you I want the warm touch, from you Put your love and affection into the cup Don’t say a word, do it, just shut up The scent, the feel, from you, to me Because, all I want, a…
By: Ankit Badoni
Tags: Writing, Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Love

I want the magic, from you

I want the warm touch, from you

Put your love and affection into the cup

Don’t say a word, do it, just shut up

The scent, the feel, from you, to me

Because, all I want, a hot cup of a coffee....
The Abyss
By: Tobias, Spoon
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Poem, Poetry On Medium

He’s strapped into a state of stasis,

No rattle of the chains, no changes,

Perhaps the gentle growth of grapevines in places,

But no new voices or faces,

Used to be besotted with his basic bases,

Now with comfort nothing quite tastes how it tasted

Chewing glass of governments and Gods subtly stained it

And the tyrants trusted the taint of time would tarnished and tame him.
Poetic Musings #16: Fear? Am I Doing All Right?
By: Hanna Gracen
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poetry Sunday, Poem, Poetry On Medium

I wasn’t feeling that great today. Actually, I haven’t been for a while. Which I’m okay with.

I sometimes forget that it’s okay to feel all sorts of intense, not-so-fun emotions. What’s more important is how we cope with these emotions and move through them. And it might take a while, and that’s okay too.

But I can proudly say that I’m working on my self-care. Each day I add a new small goal. So far we’re at: eating a healthy breakfast, exercising in the morning, eating at least 3 servings of vegetables each day, using my positivity jar, meditating, trying to breathe when my feelings get overwhelming, and not downloading Tik Tok (I’m sure it works for some people, I cannot handle it).

On top of all that awesomeness, I decided to write a poem tonight. After working through the following thought: “This is going to suck, I’m totally out of practice,” this is what I came up with. I like it. Woo!
Children Can Be Fun
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Poem, Poetry On Medium

Children are full of life

They bring joy and sadness

They soon learn the word no

Rebell and have free will

Children are full of innocence

Even adults sometimes are like children

They to really never grow up

Always up to mischief

Some are the class clown

Some just want to be heard

It is us adults that can be the worst

We instill fear, bitterness, and hatred

When it should be love and understanding
There are things no one knows
By: Cambria Covell
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium

There are things no one knows

There are things no one knows

Whisper the ghosts

Whisper the ghosts

There are things no one knows

There are things no one knows

Cry the crows

Cry the crows

There are things no one knows
People Are Carbonated Bubbles
Tags: Inspirational, Poetry, Poet, Poem, Creativity

People are carbonated bubbles

Formed from a drink poured by a kid

Wishing to be a man

Appearing on the bottom of a glass

Leaping to the surface

Like a person colliding with others

Changing fate

Some merge together in an unchangeable bond

Some take down all others in their path

But in the end

We

All

Fade

Away
Life Lessons
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poetic Prose, Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry On Medium

Life is full of lessons

It can teach us a lot

People will complain

About their given lot

Every lesson

Is like a stepping stone

Even like a ladder

Provided you take

Things in your stride

The education of

The school of hard knocks

Is often more valuable

The school or university

Things they do not teach you

You often learn by doing

Even lessons no parent

Can teach us

Along each step of the way
A Morning Routine
By: Jacob Rosen
Tags: Poetry, Relationships, Poet, HIV AIDS, Poetry On Medium

He awoke from a terrible dream

Skin flecked away like paint chips

Sinking between the floorboards

Ruby red kisses left behind.

Brushing his teeth mostly

To ensure they’re still

Inside his head where he saw them last.

In his bed

The Lament for Icarus has begun

So wide and kind

The feeling of lift

Remembrance

A guest forgotten

Sunk in the night’s wake

And he knows he will have to take him

Uptown and maybe east

They shared a bed, after all

Reciprocity for holy men

He looks up at the ceiling wondering

If his mother can see what he has done or

Was her vision blocked

By the neighbors and the noise upstairs.
I came to this page with darkness…
By: Gregory M. Brooks
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium

I came to this page

with darkness to spill —

almost bloodied

my vocal cords with hate,

like crude oil billows

black over coral.

Instead I reach out —

tracing my body in soft words,

I envelope my fear,

the way fog swallows

tankers in a shipping lane,

I build a lighthouse

for the others,

hailing their boats —

I know some of them

are sharpening their pens

to harpoon ideas

passing by in the deep.

I know how far

those lines can pull.
As The Daylight Fades
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Feminism, Poetry, Poet, Women, Poem

perhaps one day

you will be an impotent

dot dwindling in the distance

relegated to a history

with outdated weapons

a book holding

the story of our time

the creak of its glossy spine

in unborn hands

we will be gone

from the world after it rains

the daughters of our daughters

will not scurry like mice

as the daylight fades.
Breathe
By: Tobias, Spoon
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium

You’ll go finding

Silver linings

In all of my mistakes

When my thoughts are sliding

Your words are the timing

To every breath I take

While I’m hiding

Behind my eyelids

Feeling like a thief

You come and stop the tightening

I’ve always struggled fighting

You are why I breathe.
Oh, darling
By: Cambria Covell
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poem, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium

And the saddest part of Peter Pan

Is that soon, there would be a time

When Wendy would hate her own last name

For one could only be called “Darling” so much

Before you wondered if they knew she was a million other things
forevermore
Tags: Creative Writing, Writing, Poetry, Relationships, Poet

forevermore

First time i believed someone wasn’t lying

when they called me beautiful

was under the light of the moon,

since then i’ve trusted the moon

to only tell me truths

never steer me wrong.

experiences are to be had and not avoided,

even if you remember them forevermore

my experiences under the moon

must stay with me and shape me

forevermore
Self Love
By: Michelle Allenberg
Tags: Poetry, Self Love, Poet, Inner Peace, Love

The sun rose today,

as if for the first time,

chasing back shadows

highlighting frigid branches

weighed down with snow — they hold strong

— bending —

embracing challenge,

embracing change.

And within me I saw a light,

radiant, filled with warmth — peace —

ready to illuminate the day

unconditional.

Never breaking,

I bend with defiance

I am unstoppable,

I am joy,

unrelenting.

A second summer has risen in me.
My body was a temple
By: Mya Gibson
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Poem, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium

My body was a temple

Until you broke in

Smashing all the artifacts

Like a feral beast with no conscious

Now that the damage has been done

I am left with nothing

No home

No peace

Nothing.
how must it feel
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Questions, Poem, Creativity

train your legs to sprint

between moments

teach your feelings

to keep a simple palette

blur the film

you call a memory

blink when the question

barges her way in

how must it feel

the fabric of rare air

waves singing ferociously

grass wet with morning’s rain

how must it feel

to breathe easy

unafraid of shifting form

to collect time

worthy of safekeeping.
More
By: Lyndsey Frondarina
Tags: Writing, Poetry, Poet, Female Empowerment, Poetry On Medium

Photo by mohammad khaksarmadani on Unsplash

Stop me if this sounds familiar

I sometimes speak in Deja vu,

but I’m starting to get the feeling

that I don’t belong with you.

You’re really nice to look at,

easy on the eyes,

but I just can’t see what separates

you from all the other guys.

And since I’m one of a kind,

a unicorn, if you will,

I need a man who has more to him

than just his sex appeal!
success
By: Nik Levi
Tags: Creative Writing, Daily Blog, Mess, Poet, Poetry On Medium

thread the black laces close up holes

stop the top to double the bow

like it’s always been done

straighten the limb

one by one a foot goes up

rubber and leather latching on to a metal weld

shoved down hard under the weight of our sins

we sit high and proud

word by word

commands urge the tired shoes

nailed to a metal U

firmed hands to idle around the neck

hold up weight from impulses ignored

make believe the being remains pure

behind the back of the horse with a rider on shore

up in the air the metal box flys in with a cure

contact violently making the end

of what grips were bound to tight

for if you sit high enough

you can’t see when you’re fucked
Convite
By: Pensamentos, Músicas, Por Paulo Marr
Tags: Lardapoesia, Poet, Poem, Poetry

in In Bitcoin We Trust
Snapshot
By: Rebeca Ansar
Tags: Creative Writing, Poetry, Storytelling, Poet, Poem

this morning

we threw open the blinds

bowed our soporific eyes

as light entered

I leaned down to inspect our plant

another stem kicked its way to the sky

you carried the plates left behind from the night

back to the sink- even the crumbs that

never made it to our tongues

time has begun to lurch forward

youth holds out its baton

you nod off during the early evening

I stare at the single gray strand in my hair.
In every complexity your reverence is profound and sexy
By: A Love Supreme
Tags: Poetry, Poet, Sex, Sexuality, Poetry On Medium

In every complexity your reverence is profound and sexy

that ass, lawd help me that ass

I reckon sin fiendishly pushing limits of your flexibility

suffocation your African love grass

strung out on her nappy dugout

You exhale into me, the captain of your ecstacy

Like a dealer of crack laced XTC

Lay your body next to me your melaninated dreaded lagniappe

Arch and cantour the back like camber

Huff, and sweat nudity to gander

ejaculation and pander

enough poeticism…

lets fuck

til your you foof thingy

and my wing dingy

beg us to stop.

then let's defy them

~A Love Supreme