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I am not very good at saying no to people,
                              or at being firm and direct with my patients at work.  
           I am soft and mandible.  
           I tend to let people take advantage of me.  

My physical therapist says the people with the most problems
with their hips and backs are
                                                        the ones that can          
                                                        hardly bend at all or
                                                                                                 that can
                                       bend              too             much.

I am too flexible.  
                              So much so that it is hurting me.  
                                    I fold and I fold and I fold
                                               in on myself like origami and
                                      I let people do whatever they want.  
I can't remember if I've always been this way or not.  

Maybe it depends on how you look at it:  
The woman in the casket could either be sleeping or dead.  She could either be a stranger or my mother.  This could either be the bright, multi-color, kaleidoscopic shapes I see when I rub my eyes a bit too hard for a bit too long, or it could be the dull, grey morgue her body was wheeled down to after they tied the tag around her toe and zipped her into a white bag.  This could either hurt a lot or a little.  It depends on how much you let in.  How willing you are to bend to the emotional blow.  I could either stop writing about this or keep going, but it's been, what, nine years now, and I haven't been able to stop yet—
only able to bend and
                                          bend
                 ­                                      and
                                                                    bend
                                                                                    and
this took way too long to finish
Some days the wind blows
and bends yonder willow
  Its roots hold sway
  perched high upon
  steep sea cliff walls
No gale could affix
a bow to such a limber
heartwood backbone
  Wind arched echoes
  undulate to and fro
  alike a gentle restoration;
  a resilience unrenowned

It looks as if it takes
the skies weight so lightly,
while the rising waves
gather an unhallowed chill
fomenting untamed
at the heart of the prevailing
       westerly swell

A human tends to lean rigidity
right up to the yonder most edge,
a thin line threshold
        a step away  ―
pushed by a moment's gravity;
a blind jump over a cliff
into an unfathomable deep ocean
       far beyond
       a forgiving
       willow's bend


Jesse Stillwater ... 09  May  2018
mslu Mar 15
do you know nothing of obeying your roots

and not going wherever the wind blows

instead

setting standards and restricting movements with the wind

to show just how bending

is more truthful

than breaking .
Erin Suurkoivu Sep 2016
Even the stars are doing yoga.
Nothing has always done it,
bending into space.
This evening found me stoking
the fire,
warming by breath alone.
People are such cold little stoves.

Above the sound,
**** and give of ocean,
I heard Ariel sing.
Each winter it happens again,
deepening its way into my bones.

Light, lengthening the days, even as
cold plummets to colder.

Gentle, promising colour of sun in
an angle that warms the wall.

Sneaking up from behind to give
heat to my back, you were paler,
even unavailable, until today.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
I dare not say I am one thing
For fear it might be true
Mindset is the truth in all
Bending mind can bend reality

Still, it’s known that acknowledgement
Is most necessary for fulfillment
The first step to saving the world
Is knowing that it must be

But, in agony, I wait
When should I know? Be certain?
Decide?
If at all, for whom, and why?

Do I want to know if I exist?
Perceive accurately or not at all?
Do I want to know whether he loves me
And for what, but must I know?

Seeing or perceiving
Which do I choose in my life
Happiness is all I seek
But is it fake or not
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
I get the crust and the gristle of a thistle once a missile shooting out into the sky and I cry, wonder why. Never sure what I feel for the meal of a deal and then words more like air slip the breeze in my hair, butterflies in the skies killing what kept my alive. Oh too bad, well how sad, if the songs last lines din't matter it'd harm, it'd make the soul so very mad. Here I fall, there I stand like a robot dancing to the tunes. It's demand. Hear I laugh, hear I cry. I hear the screams and feel the burn, so why? Why unsure, of what's telling me my life is so impure. Threatened heart, from the strings that wrap it, tearing it apart. Feel the clench of a bundle of what you yourself have drench and so benched. And you threw to me the horror show, I never so have thought would reckon me to be. I, to be, it's master and it's longing family, here I cry. Hear "I" cry. For I exist in heart, but never, not in mind. There I stand once again as a memory of all that I pretend. If I tried, to be real, the pieces fall apart inside. So I hide, then I quiver and I shake as 'me' is inside. I can touch to the shelter covered in the unbelieving, underachieving to be who I know I am to be. Or at least what you see. I crush the old me and start anew, though I grew. I, immortal to myself have stomped the true. And I become something greater than simple little shrew. Do not lie! For I see with one eye, the look through me. What you see is a host, not the ghost, that lives on. "Awh, look at me. I'm so strong!" Laugh along. Child there. Where? Oops, forgot to care. Now I stare, towards the end that's never ending like this script. Never ending. Twist and bending. Don't kid me, I'm no kid. I'm the body of a youth, but I am dead. I've destroyed myself, if others didn't do a perfect job. Hold up stop! I'm letting go, a bubble that will pop. It will burst, destroying me, if it doesn't **** me first. Here I stand. Hear I cry. There I go. I have died.
I don't know if I posted this before, but I don't think so.
Tyler Man Apr 2014
What's given
Can be taken
Life constantly mending
The rules that are continually bending
Our troubles from alarm
From people trained to bring harm
Now do we live to love
Find ways to rise above
Or cave into
The things we think we'd never do
Lose the things we came to be
Never knowing what we could truly see
Rough patches through the dark
Even though we've all been given an ark
Some choose to live that path
Living in a continual blood bath
Using hate to make us feel provin
Living a life that's not worth livin
It's easy to just give up
And get obsession and disrupt
But I beg of me come away
To shine on and shine today
I beg of you to do the same
Do not let the darkness bring you  shame
Move through life with a great light
Something that will eventually shine bright
I know it's hard when dark destroys
Trying to fool you with all it's mental ploys
But your are strong
You'll learn to prove life wrong
Or maybe right
Cause life could be bright
I say to you with great haste
make sure to go out and give life a taste
Cause it's worth the time
do not commit the crime
Stop abandoning your morals
And begain to remove your quarrels
Life will transcend
It's only around the bend
Don't give up I beg of you
They say couple people make it only a few
But I believe if we all really tried
That everyone will make it before they all have gone and died
So I say to you be the ones who tried
And give up the  you who once lied

— The End —