Life teaches you with snatching ur likes Patience teaches you to choose ur likes It's ok to be broken darling It's ok to be get ignored It's ok to be undervalued It's ok ur feelings r transparent But it's not ok to be stagnant in the same place It's hard to leave I know but create a space U r the queen made for the real king Smile darling fly with ur wing -parveen firdose sum

sum

Life teaches you with snatching ur likes
Patience teaches you to choose ur likes
It's ok to be broken darling
It's ok to be get ignored
It's ok to be undervalued
It's ok ur feelings r transparent
But it's not ok to be stagnant in the same place
It's hard to leave I know but create a space
U r the queen made for the real king
Smile darling fly with ur wing
-parveen firdose sum

Abinesh

I like the generosity of numbers. The way, for example, they are willing to count anything or anyone: two pickles, one door to the room, eight dancers dressed as swans. I like the domesticity of addition— add two cups of milk and stir— the sense of plenty: six plums on the ground, three more falling from the tree. And multiplication's school of fish times fish, whose silver bodies breed beneath the shadow of a boat. Even subtraction is never loss, just addition somewhere else: five sparrows take away two, the two in someone else's garden now. There's an amplitude to long division, as it opens Chinese take-out box by paper box, inside every folded cookie a new fortune. And I never fail to be surprised by the gift of an odd remainder, footloose at the end: forty-seven divided by eleven equals four, with three remaining. Three boys beyond their mothers' call, two Italians off to the sea, one sock that isn't anywhere you look ©Abinesh Numbers

Numbers #Poetry