Poem On Daily Life Novels & Stories

The week came by passed by a blur, everything get's back to it's normal day, I am still the new girl and everyone seems like watching at me every move I make. Calvin didn't stay with me longer than usual and Courtney stay with me to keep me company, but since we're in different level, we don't see much and I usually spend my time in the library, reading and doing my assignments, sometimes researching or playing chess with myself.

After all, I’ll get made up at the shoot, but still. No one needs to see this face without makeup. It’s not pretty. My car roars to life as I pull out onto the street. Directions. Crap. I pull over on the side of the road, check my email, and put the destination into my GPS. Thank fuck for GPS. The traffic is slow-moving downtown, and I take my tapping foot off the brake. Why does everyone feel the need to be somewhere on a Wednesday afternoon? Don’t they have work to do? Don’t they realize the importance of this shoot?

He asked. I scoffed wondering if he was expecting me and the kids to starve and experience total misery... POEM BY MERCEDES. You are the sun that shines brightly throughout my day. You are the gravity that holds me down in every way. You are the moon that shimmers throughout my night. You are stars that glimmer oh so bright. You are the oxygen that keeps me alive. You are my heart that beats inside. You are the blood that flows through me. You are the only guy I can see.

The deepest truth about life is that every morning feels like dust, and every sunrise feels like a tsunami, you either embrace that feeling or choke on it. I always try to embrace it but today is just different- a good different. I don’t have to try because today is special and for nothing will I urge the lord to not wake me up.

Anywhere! I am blissfully surrounded by people who love me. And I love them back with all my heart and soul. Life is not all joy, but I think it is those dark days that make us appreciate and realize that every day and every moment is precious. Just as a famous book says, the one who made the day also made the night. The one who made the sun and rain also makes them shine and fall to the good and the bad, according to how they need them. Meaning everyone has their purpose of creation.

The tiniest choice that we make reverberates throughout the entire universe. “Life” is such a wide umbrella; a word that covers many, many things, and everyone’s experience of it is different. So let’s narrow it down. Let’s look at some poems about life that crack open how life can feel when we’re struggling and things are hard…but also ones that put a balm on that wound. There’s a lot of shit going on right now. There always is, but it’s been particularly sharp and thorny lately, and sometimes we need someone to put that into the words we just don’t have in us. Words that make us feel heard and understood, that acknowledge our pain and how heavy life can feel.

Each moment was a reminder of the beauty and wonder that surrounded her, and the simple pleasures that brought meaning and joy to her life. And as the day drew to a close, Hazel reflected on the series of experiences that had filled her day with purpose and gratitude. She knew that life was a tapestry of moments – big and small, ordinary and extraordinary – and she cherished each one for the richness and depth it added to her journey.

The sound of my mother's raspy cough echoes from the adjacent room, a constant reminder of her deteriorating health. I carefully select a few eggs from the refrigerator, their shells cracked and fragile, mirroring the fragility of our lives. With a heavy heart, I crack them into a chipped bowl, whisking them vigorously, hoping to infuse some semblance of happiness into this mundane morning routine. As I reach for the milk, I notice the empty carton, a stark reminder of our meager existence.

Recognizing ally when I see one, even unlikely ally. Quote to remember: "We can choose to be alive instead of dutiful." I close the journal and look at the calendar on my wall. December 15th is circled in red. Twenty-four days until I can file for divorce. Twenty-four days until freedom. I've died once already. I can survive twenty-four more days. And then I'm going to build the life I should have had the first time. A life where I'm not a wife, daughter, sister, bank, or dumpster.

“Your question is a little silly. You may ask the people in the entire world of America. How many of them can’t write?” Alex said, “Writing words is not a big deal, but it’s a great talent for being to write poetry.” Eastern Emperor Mooncrate asked, “Can you write as well?” Alex was helpless. “Fine! I’ll write a few words and show you!” He did not use a pen, but he wrote words in the air with his finger. He wrote the strokes elegantly as his finger moved. “Most of the righteous ones are ordinary people engaged in lowly occupations, and those who act against their consciences are mostly intellectual ones!”