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What is home?
but a safe haven for the heart
comfortable
at peace
a breeze after the summer sun went to sleep
a feeling I had forgotten for years
regrown from my own strength

Home I thought

Was in me all along.
Penny Yilmaz Feb 2017
That's what my name is
my given name,
that is

it means Natural Spring
(of water)
but,
it does not mean it's me

How can a name,
given to you
                    by those
who never truly saw you,
belong to you?

It belongs to them.

as does Pinar,
                  the girl that's molded to their liking
                  the safe girl, the one who is never a risk
                  the girl who receives love, when she plays by the rules
                  the girl who serves as a mirror, of their own merits
                  the girl whose duty overrides her every desire
                  the girl whose soul screams, but no one is there to hear it
                  the girl that exists, only around them

MY name, good sir,
is
Penny

It is a name given to me by a six-year old girl
it felt true, to be seen by the eyes of a child
to be graced, by that purity
with a name to call my own

                                   Penny.

A name given, innocently
and so I claim my true name be
Not what was given to me,
but was seen,
of me

--PY
Ravanna Dee Feb 2017
What saddens me horribly,
is that we spend too much time tangling ourselves up in our own insecurities.
Looping it around our throats and strangling our souls.
Maybe we need to start carrying around a mental knife...
Start cutting ourselves free before it’s too late.
The slow and painful process of watching a beautiful persons heart deflate from the negative needles that they turn on themselves, is becoming too common and too difficult to see.
Please, know that you're loved,
that you're unique,
that you're beautiful and smart.
Know that you're worthy of kindness.
Especially from yourself.

-Sincerely, A Stranger
Please, love yourself and treat people kindly. You never know if the person you're speaking to is silently breaking before you. An encouraging smile, a soft word, a gentle hand, a listening ear... We can all give something. And often, more times out of not, it's the small time that you've set aside for someone that can change a heart, even for just a moment. If you can make someone feel like they're worth something, do it. Love others, love yourself.
Mikayla Smith Jan 2017
I am the wind when the tide is high
And the clouds hang like broken picture frames in the sky,
Holding on for a moment of glory
While the poet’s haunting words write me life’s little story.

I am the sun when the world has no shine,
A gleam lost within the precious folds of time.
My manner of pride surpassing
What so long ago became everlasting,
For the days have become nothing more than an actor’s last scene.

I am thunder rippling in the dark
As the raindrops wound the already fragile hearts.
Sorrow falling upon the world like a blanket,
Wondering how much longer our broken souls can take it.

I am lost when the storm shatters the world,
Breaking the glass as the space between the lines unfurl.
And wandering like no man wanders before,
Hanging from the busted seam brought by greed, hunger, and war,
Never allowing their dreams to wash upon a dusty shore.

I am lightning, vibrant and ready to be a guide in the night,
Ready to end the darkness with a future promising and bright.
I am lightning, leading them through the storm
And abolishing the suffering that our hearts and our souls transformed.
I am lightning amongst thunder, ironically quiet and frightened,
Yet, they forget that their darkness too deserves to be lightened.
Written in the beginning of September and my third year of high school, I was inspired to write this after viewing an assignment prompt in my A.P. English Literature class. Deciding to compare that of my mind, soul, and body to an element, I chose lightning. To have the characteristics of lighting, I feel as if one must be vibrant against a black sky and bursting with passion as lighting does electricity. All of us are lighting one way or another. No matter the way one chooses to express their inner lighting, just remember that the small bit of electricity is there and it is alive.
Macy Opsima Jan 2017
you belong to you.
nothing fits better
in between your fingers
than your own

fall deeply in love with yourself.
every inch of your body
is painted perfectly
to represent a masterpiece that is you

your body is a temple
built only for those
who'll look at you
as if you are the whole universe

lovers may pass
and chances may knock
but the cells that compose you
aren't ready to share you yet

different hands may grasp this skin
and various fingers may hold this heart
every meter of my flesh
will always belong deeply to me

you are yours,
i am mine
the key to our heart
is placed at our own hands.
Lois M Dec 2016
some men and women
will scale you from 1 to 10
like they have lived within
the outlines and inlines of your body,
like it's your fault the moon has craters
or a crow was born albino
or death is inevitable

but they have only seen
the curves of your waist
when they should have seen
the curves of your cerebrum,
blooming with constellations on every turn;
they have only seen
the bumps of your biceps
but they should have seen
the bumps of your big heart
pumping rivers of stardust on every cycle
because you are not a 1 nor a 5 nor a 10—
you are a hundred

it is not your fault that
you carry cosmos in your veins;
i am proud of you—
it must be difficult to handle
that much beauty and power

and this is why their scales
only last up to 10—
because they can only see
the milky way
when you are
the whole universe
Kelly Weaver Nov 2016
If mirrors were made to be looked into
And people deserve to be loved
Why didn't I feel good peering into
The merciless glass?
Why was I told that my body
No matter how wonderful I felt
Was disgusting?
Why did my eyes veer away from the truth
As I stood, body prominently shown
Even when I felt beautiful?
When a society gets to the breaking point
Where a girl can try her absolute best to be healthy
And someone asks "who are you doing this for?"
As if the answer is something other than herself
There is a problem.

Spending most of my life absolutely loathing my reflection was pointless

Those telling me I need to change
Telling me I should be ashamed
Looking me up and down with a disgusting countenance that spewed hatred and the only words they could make out was "how much do you weigh?"

They were wrong.

There's no need to bring the happy down
And baby, I was soaring before you came around
I WILL LOOK TO MY REFLECTION AND ALL BUT FROWN
I WILL EMBRACE MY CURVES AS THE WINDING HILLS THEY ARE
MY BEAUTIFUL STRETCH MARKS MAKES MY BODY MORE INDIVIDUAL THAN ANY IRON-BOARD
I WILL REJOICE FOR RECOGNIZING MYSELF AS THE GODDESS I TRULY AM
STRUCK DOWN FROM HEAVEN ONLY TO RISE AGAIN
MY BODY THE SACRED TEMPLE OF THE GODS
AND WHEN ASKED HOW I BEAT THE ODDS I WILL SAY,

"We have been taught to hate
Those that appear a certain way
By an unqualified teacher.

And one day, alone with my mirror
I peered into it to see my body clearer
And I realized my beauty was there all along

I was just looking through clouded lenses."
Oskar Erikson Oct 2016
After a star
grants us it's brief blinding love-light.
They must burn to dust
somewhere out of sight.

For no heart can bear the weight
of seeing ones' love
in its true transient state.
But that only means
that your soul should change fate!

Nothing, no nothing remains as ash
No our hearts will not explode and crash!

We will find shelter
away from the falling stars, the blue-lighted Storm!
As I have sworn....

That we will live.           We will live.
I found my old notebook from my childhood, I read it and burst into tears. I was so fearful and afraid of my future about my point in life. This is for him
Kelly Weaver Oct 2016
Sweet as sugar
Put your hands on me
Feel my soft skin beneath your touch
Trace my lines with your gentle hands
I'm just like sugar
I'll crumble under too much force
So be gentle, dear
Soft like butter
Put your hands on me
Feel my curves
I'm straight from the mold
But I broke coming out
Put me together
Put your hands on me
A Harris Oct 2016
Ever growing;
The soul is feasting,
taking intentful steps toward the infinite.
The march leads us to transcendence.
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