Written Acts of Kindness

Most of his friends And colleagues spend Their time mocking the Less fortunate as Being huge losers, Somehow deficient, Defective, lazy, Not worthy of care or Consideration, Deserving scorn. He spends his free time Helping those Discarded by others.

The mango tree near my house Has been my best friend For almost twelve years now. It grew up with me. I still remember the day I planted it with so much love. I just used to water it every day And now I eat its Fruits of kindness every summer. It gave me so much. It used to become my umbrella During the rainy days And its shade was my resting place During those hot summer days. I just can’t imagine My life without it. Sometimes while sitting In its shade I wonder About my kind grandfather who lives In the old age home. Why did my parents leave him When he gave us so much love?

A hot world full of hurt A harsh world filled with marsh Swampy, bomby and shabby Lonely, dreary and weary, Kindness could bring us happiness. A cold world of worthless gold A sold world of stolen fold A raw world of burning war, A bar world with bloody law Troubled, scary and blurry Kindness could give us fairness. Injustice, prejudice and malice Rumours, despiration, conspiracy Slavery, starvation and racism Kindness could heal our brokenness. The kind are not blind, Because the mind can still find Treasures in this whirlwind. ----- Ngozi Olivia Osuoha is a Nigerian poet/writer, a graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. She has published over one hundred poems in over ten countries. Her first two longest pieces of 355 and 560 verses, "The Transformation Train" and "Letter to My Unborn", published in Kenya and Canada, are available on Amazon.

She understands that Things have become So dire that there Is no way to look away Without being complicit. She offers them A secret room In her home where they Can hide for as long As necessary, A haven in the middle Of madness, Humanity repudiating Fear and hatred.

She didn't have To go out of her way, She could have just As easily done Her own thing, but She chose to spend That extra time with me, Those moments that Let me know I was somehow special.

That man at Sarojini Market Sells the best bread Quality whole wheat bread. I buy some every day Bread is not my staple food I am an Indian and Indians mostly eat rice. I am no different. I don’t buy it To satiate my hunger But to express my gratitude To this kind man Who offered me some bread Years ago when I visited this place And sat near his bakery With an empty pocket. ----- Sravani Singampalli is a writer and poet from India. She is presently pursuing doctorate of pharmacy at JNTU KAKINADA university in Andhra Pradesh, India.

A little boy Dressed in rags Stops by Every day Looking up at her With hopeful eyes Too timid to ask Out loud for some Morsel to eat She offers him What she has and Bids him goodbye Until the time When she files Paperwork to Adopt him

I've spent many years working with individuals, families, and organizations to help them minimize the impact of conflict and strife. Almost every problem I've ever seen arise is due to people not feeling good about themselves deep inside and not healing what's troubling them and causing them to behave in less than positive ways. Entire societies are built upon this hurt way of being, a state of mind that promotes fear, anger, and war with "enemies." It all comes from ideas planted in children's heads by parents and adults who don't know any better. What these societies (and the individuals in them) don't realize is that things don't have to be this way. People can actually function based on hope, love, peace, and kindness. You hear stories about how even the most horrible people love someone or something. We all have the capability to love if we follow our more positive instincts. The fundamental problem is that we teach our children to fear others