The save vanishing species USPS stamp -
featuring an Amur tiger cub graphic
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Hillborn river, gentle Amur flows east
Embracing enroute a score of besties
Enriching diverse lives, some so unique
She sways towards the ocean Pacific
Warm orange bright Siberian tigers
Left in cold, threatened, dispossessed drifters
Settle along serene flowing Amur
Takes her name, huddle along her, survive
Sad eyes with Blake's immortal symmetry
An Amur cub stamped on clear envelope
Stares at cruel human eyes with pity
Asks for mercy, for marked territory
Don’t tell me change is impossible.
I’ve done the math.
3,000 people.
$10 a week.
That’s $30,000 every week.
Invest it wisely, even at 3.25%.
That amounts to $1.6 million per year.
Enough to start a small business annually.
Enough to buy homes outright.
Enough to give dignity without debt.
And if thousands of groups did this?
Poverty wouldn’t need handouts.
Governments wouldn’t bleed through welfare.
Education, health, pensions—they’d thrive on the dividends of collective care.
I don’t care if you follow this.
Just don’t complain when you didn’t try.
This is how we fight unemployment.
Not with blame—
But with unity.
Not with pity—
But with the possibility.
The greatest gift you can give a child
Is a career that lasts a lifetime
Wages provide money to feed your family
creating employment worldwide
would overcome both poverty and starvation
creating independence with employment
lets everybody thrive
If every working person that could invest ten dollars per week
Invested in groups creating employment for the unemployed
You could create better lives for everyone
Let go
Let go of the pain
u have embraced
My girl, u deserve better
Those memories that linger
In your mind
Let them be consumed
By your darkness
Why hold it?
When it hurts
When your tremble
With just the thought
Why let the fear grow?
When u can be so much more
Hold your hands
Let your think
And don't let anyone tell u of your flaws
For you have none
You are gentle like the breeze
You shine like the night sky
That your worth cannot be overshadowed
The why to stand in the dark?
Why let other look at u with pity
Stand up and hold your head high
Let the sky know your name
And let others know your pain
The scars are the proof of your fight
And your very own might
Let your heart be full of pride
Not someone's young bride
Show the world your dreams
And let go of the pain
Let go
The sound of wheels on tarmac
Keeps me focused
Keeps me grounded
Keeps me present
The sound of wheels on tarmac
Takes me farther and farther away
From everything I have ever known
Chained up like a worthless dog
The sound of wheels on tarmac
Reminds me that rebellion
Always comes at a price
You just have to decide if it’s worth the prize
The sound of wheels on tarmac
Tells me that my fight is far from over
The war not nearly won
Whether I’m protesting from my backyard or someone else’s overseas
The sound of wheels on tarmac
Fills my heart with pity
Pity for a society
Too at peace with being alive but not really living
The sound of wheels on tarmac
Makes my whole body tingle
My life sentence stinging and burning
As we near my new home
The sound of wheels on tarmac
Makes me hope
That the words scribbled on my torso
Inspire others to likewise pick up their pens
I am told it is mightier than the sword
The sound of wheels on tarmac
Places courage in my veins
A man who has lost his freedom
Has no more to lose than himself
The sound of wheels on murram
Tells me we've arrived
The God residing in the sky,
Looks at us with pity,
But then he is helpless,
Against our cruelty's tall and strong fortress.
I can see her in pain,
But her cries are all in vain,
The grief in her heart,
Has stuck herself to the pillar of grief.
The children who provided you the joy of being a parent,
Are thrown into orphanages due to lack of money,
The dog and the cat which took care of you,
Is shunned and thrown away after a certain age- by YOU!
The hen which gives you eggs and the cow-milk, also gets killed,
By none else but you,
And the food made out of them makes your stomach filled,
Yet they serve you and that is true.
The fruit providing and spring bringing flowers and trees are cut,
I wonder what gave you that gut?
Even the holy one has his eyes shut,
And after all this-one day our bodies also turn into mud.
he doesn’t need to see the world
to understand it
the rhythm of the streets
tells him everything he needs to know
he feels the sun
not through his eyes
but in the warmth on his skin
the way the morning air shifts
when the day begins
his fingers dance across the keys
or the strings or the frets
like he’s tracing the face of something familiar
something he’s always known
music is his sight
his way of painting the world
without ever seeing it
people watch him play
some with pity, some with awe
but he doesn’t care for their looks
because when he plays
he is free
floating somewhere beyond
what sight could ever give him
he listens to the rain
like it’s whispering a melody
he hears the laughter of strangers
like a song waiting to be written
he doesn’t need eyes
when he has music
and music has always seen him
A rainy day held me captive in memories.
Each droplet that fell turned into blood,
Revealing the wounds of my existence.
Nature joined in, not with strength,
but with pity in its silence.
As the hands ticked, the moments slipped.
Was that how it was meant to be?
With every drop, a thread was born,
Slicing through my fragile realm.
As my breaths grew shallow,
All I could do was sway away,
The lending hands letting me go.
Was that how it was meant to end?
Sacrifice
Today I sacrifice my martyrdom.
Today I cleanse my soul,
Release the past and reach for the new.
I'll look for the life I'm entitled to.
I rise above my delusions.
Pettiness and jealousy flee.
I banish the painful illusions that
For so long have imprisoned me.
I am now free and unencumbered.
Today I reach for the stars.
A life of joy encircles and uplifts me,
Erasing all the painful scars.
I will live this day.
Truly live it, as if it were my very last.
Though engulfed by meaningless fears
I'm no longer a prisoner of my past.
I now face my shrinking terror.
Today I step toward the light.
There's nothing left to run from and no more
Snarling, powerless demons left to fight.
I take my life into my hands.
Breathe deeply in Universal Breath.
Every thought, every person, place and thing
Now rings with Divine significance.
I know that Divinity dwells with my spirit.
Today God smiles behind my eyes.
And looks upon the new birthed world
With mirth, with pity, with joy, and expansive life.
Today, I will live.
Chula Fleming© 10/16/2012
The storm had loosened
the crabs last desperate grip
and lifted it up
on a wave,
flung it onto rocks to let
it die on its back.
I looked at it with pity,
picked it up and set it down,
right way up. In death,
its claws still held strands
of bright green weed,
the shell bore a fatal crack.
In two minds, I left it there
rather than put it back
into the sea.
Soon, two seagulls squabbled
over its carcass. For me,
the crab was a niggling
reminder of mortality,
to the seagulls, a meal
gifted by serendipity.
Exonerating eyes that yield
Upon the eyes of cyclopes,
Bemoaning and rancorous enigmatic
As we think.
Ponderously, I swim to nausea,
Galloping to forever dream.
I see life in gargantuan way,
Neither the illusion of the majestic
Enthralled and reverberating echo,
Of thy thunderous anger, I fear.
For this is the summation
Of my grieve heart.
In this way, I may die a loser,
A beaten man.
With pity and devouring rage
To that sun, to that arrogant feisty sun.
For this, I'm a rotten down-trodden
Sad, sad, sad man.
My eyes search the clouds, the next day abhorring,
Longing to lock eyes with a white dove who’s soaring,
And tell him my dread for the mundane tomorrow.
He’d say that he knows nothing of any future sorrows,
The sun is hotter up here! And the south is filled with seeds!
When Noah saw you with the branch, a sign of soon relief,
Did he tell you of the torrent, the rains washing all he knows?
But I suppose… faith is fixed when one suffers, full of hope.
The white dove would remember and with pity say:
Noah obeyed, and tomorrow is coming. The floods
Rest in two mornings, so wallow in mourning,
But truly I tell you that beyond these clouds,
Above the waters is a loving gaze and the warm breeze of day.
Overwhelming thoughts pour into my head with every breath that I take.
Maybe if it was a bit more quiet I wouldn’t shut down from every little mess I make.
In time this empty shell gets filled with pity and loathing, for the person that I’ve made.
I know I will lose control one day, and the tears will flow as I finally break.
The wise I asked the other day, my friend,
When the wars among nations would end?
He looked at me with pity and replied:
" When love with justice in Man's heart would blend!"
© Demetrios Trifiatis
17 March 2022
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May we see peace in Ukraine soon!
-
Struggling with sorrow
Time she had to borrow
Her mind filled with pity
Her position wasn’t pretty
She had the name of Paulette
God knows she couldn’t forget
How he’d kissed away her pain
Left her without cloud or rain
Then someone new he’d met
And she was left here to fret
Paulette - 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
November 10, 2021
Metropolitan city, a fast-paced city
Tantalizing desires, dazzling fame stealthily bound to disintegrate
Swelling population, clustered houses, disparity among people, gazing with pity
High ambition, stiff competition, insensitive attitude sneakily tend to deflate
Flashback memories come to foresight together
Once, dense woods stand tall, creatures under one roof altogether
A mark of solidarity and in cohesion, help each other
Drooping trees bemoan, ‘How callous mankind axe us for pleasure’
‘How anyone tear us apart, lament in displeasure
Selfish and greedy, in equal measure.
Confronting setbacks, man with nature hasten to discuss nitty- gritty
Realized, hankering after mundane objects, inner self tend to degenerate
Thereafter, exchange pleasantry with one-another
Harmony and unity exist, a priceless, glorious treasure.
THIRD PLACE
DATED: 01.08.2021
CONTEST: WRITING PROMPT-FRAGMENTED SPACES POETRY CONTEST
SPONSORED BY: CONSTANCE LA FRANCE
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