Perfectly imperfect.


Perfect pitch,
Perfect plan,
Perfect number,
Perfect relation,
Perfect, perfect, perfect,
And perfect.
We squander a lifetime, wish of making the perfect listing, and think of ways to meet such an attainable ideal and finally wonder “how to be perfect?’’
How foolish can we be?
Life does not have to be perfect to be wonderful. Beauty often lies in the imperfections like the flower I have kept in a vase on the other day. No matter how beautiful those cut flowers are, they decay. Perhaps in the end, what matters is that, whether we are true to ourselves or not. Therefore, it is always better not to cut our nose off to spite our face.
Guys, lets brighten up our day. We were born to be real, not to be perfect.



images (2)

Beheaded flower in the hands of an imaginary child
Plucked away from the umbilicus of life
Now the bond has broken,
And the dream has torn apart.

Since then, there were no beds of flower
Except clusters of pain and sufferings
You looked at the stars in cold and desperation
Forced to face the sun in shame and humiliation

A silent song echoed in the dry wind
Hands of an amateur gardener penetrated dry earth
Let the rain come and wash away
Wash away the pain and suffering of yesteryears

No matter whether you are a weed or a seed
Keep the fight on until the weather is fine
The deeper you root that tender you flower
You and I are the rings in a chain, the chains in the divine ritual of life

So keep the hopes of bearing flowers someday
When justice dies, blossom into a thousand flowers
And spread the fragrance of hope for grieving
There you change this place to a land of wonders.


Perfect poet award (Week 50)

The perfect poet award (Week 50)

Thanks a ton to the Poetry Palace for this award – Anthony.

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