#positivepoems

Make yourself realize that you’re worth it, And find peace in your soul’s silence....

Berlian, arang.

Kemewahan, nasi yang kurang.

Gedung, gubuk.

Tingginya jabatan, gundahnya kerja serabutan.

Pasangan yang selalu bergandengan di kota ini, masih langgeng sampai detik ini.

Pasangan yang awet, namun tak serasi.

Pasangan yang dipertemukan oleh kondisi "terkotak kotakan" sejak dini.

"Ah muak aku dengan tembok pembatas ini"

"Boleh aku robohkan sekarang?"

Seakan semua enggan mengerti

"Diam!" ujar yang kurang ajar

"Baiklah..semoga segera memadam api kecemburuan" jawabku tak panjang.

Bukan salah atas bukan salah bawah.

Hanya salah pemahaman.

Hanya perihal kurang pengertian.

Perihal konsep hubungan sosial.

Pembentuk perbedaan karakter dan kesuksesan semua insan.

I’ve never understood why

There is so little respect for dandelions

We praise sunflowers

Pick daisies

But the poor dandelions:

“They’re just weeds.”

It was my understanding,

That we praise things for

Resilience

Endangered species,

Miraculously back from the edge.

Extinct animals,

Miraculously back from the dead.

We praise this stubbornness

This determination to live.

So why, I wonder, so little respect for

Dandelions?

Perhaps I am odd

But dandelions remind me of some humans.

Mowed down, heads popped off, replaced by more beautiful and lovely things

In gardens.

Perhaps I am a dandelion person myself, or perhaps no one is.

But dandelions are resilient, stubborn, tough.

Mowed over and disrespected year after year only to return with the same cheerful

Pigment.

To the dandelion people if you’re out there,

Your beauty is more than others can comprehend.

Your indomitable will to live is respectable.

And each year after you’re mowed down,

Haven’t posted for a while but there really is not enough said about love and we shouldn’t shy away from writing about it. Enjoy the love poem below but enjoy the people you love more.

For Love

You have coloured love and red is

only part of it, we are threads pulled

through each other’s blood,

 you have changed the greenness of

the scene and poured the floods that

colour the palest parts of me,

 driving the force that compels

and feeds the reason to create,

you are the story I will write.

 And love, they told me not to talk about

it, but how can we trust those tenuous

seams when it is the most robust, fearless of things?

 Let us colour our page with it

and cover ourselves in it because

all that matters is what we make of love

and, my love, what it makes of us.