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Earth

Earth

Earth's skin is the grass,

Earth's hair are the tree's and flower's,

Earth's anger are the natural disasters,

Earth's smile are the rivers,

Earth's bruises are the hills and mountains,

Earth's cuts are the volcanoes,

Earth's children are us and the other animals.

Let us protect her as she protects us.


Comments

  1. Aditi, I am enjoying reading your blog posts. Keep up the reading and writing. I'm excited to see what you create next. Eric Conti

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What Other's Enjoyed

Diwali is here!

               Hi everyone! Sorry I didn't post in a long time. It's November, and in India, people are getting ready for Diwali, the sweet festival of lights. Diwali is a festival celebrated in honor of Prince Rama, his brother Laxman, and Rama's wife, Sita's return after exile. Diwali is also the festival of lights. This time, I bought clay diyas and painted them. Diyas are oil lamps. In India, people are buying sparklers, fireworks, and other kinds of crackers. Houses are cleaned, new clothes are bought, and sweets are made and bought. here are some photos of Diwali: Happy Diwali/Thanksgiving, everyone!

A Rainbow of Tragedy

Anger is red Beautiful and deadly It wreaks havoc With no determined end Passion is orange All-consuming and blind It drives you forward Until the ground gives way Content is yellow Peaceful and bright It lures you in An enchanting dream Sickness is green Disgusting and vile It holds you in its death grip Fingers tightening like a noose Hope is blue Mirror of the sky It keeps you afloat Makes you soar Indigo is fear Irrational and deep It pulls you back A shadow in your mind Pride is violet Arrogance and ego It chains you to the top With silver words and golden trophies Death is black Dark and empty It counts down like a bomb An ugly truth White is life Pure and unadulterated It’s a million miracles A beautiful lie

Insomnia

Fear We keep it to ourselves Even as it plagues us in our slumber Even when it rises with the morning sun Anger We explode with our emotions An uncontrollable reality Of what we can become Rumination Fruitless nights spent on thoughts that collide A tendency to look At the half-empty glass And you ask why I can't sleep?