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Kewayne Wadley Dec 2024
The ground shook beneath us,
Running beside the horse in her heart.
My feet, her hooves pressed deep
In her orifice.
Panting, our arms free in the wind,
Her eyes wild to those who try to tame her.
My stomach burns from the ache
Of trying to keep up.
I haven’t run this long or this hard
Since I was little.
No matter what I did,
She was always in front of me.
If I laughed, she’d neigh and bite the air.
Even if I was able to pass her,
It wasn’t long before she got back
In front of me.
Every part of me hurts, but all I can do
Is laugh, trying to keep up.
After a while, I fell out,
Sprawled out, catching my breath.
Soon, she walked over and laid down beside me
And licked my face.

Life’s too short to worry about
The bruises that travel up your legs.
It’s rare that you meet people
Who make you burn like this
The kind of love that pounds
And gallops.
She had a horse in her heart,
Wild and made of fire.
She didn’t want to escape,
Just needed a friend
Ayla Grey Dec 2024
I was never taught to write a love poem

From a young age I learned how to grieve
I learned how to keep myself on my feet
I learned how to wallow on perilous ground
I learned to stand up when I fell down

I was taught to smile to keep hatred away
I was taught to keep my emotions at bay
I was taught to do everything on my own
I learned to love being alone

I learned to build barriers all around
But I was never taught how to break them down
I learned that if a crush seemed to stay
I needed to to push my feelings away

I never learned to love or to give anything to you
Now I don't even know how to break through

This was for my love but I'll never show him
These strands of sorrow meant to be a love poem
Sara Barrett Dec 2024
"You made it look easy," they whisper—
A phrase that echoes, hollow and sharp,
Cutting through the quiet of my solitary journey.

Navigating parenthood alone,
A military spouse stretched thin by distance,
Selling dreams as fragile as glass,
Balanced on the edge of every choice.

A diagnosis presses against my chest,
One child in my arms, another learning beside me.
Battles hidden behind closed doors,
Invisible to those who see only the surface.

When I bared the depths of my soul,
Resilience bloomed like wildflowers—
Not a cry, but a roar.

Judgments swirl around me—
A storm of misconceptions,
Echoes of untold stories etching my truth.

Others glimpse my path only when they walk similar roads,
Their perceptions shifting like sand,
Revealing the landscape of unseen struggles.

My journey is not a blueprint,
Nor a promise of simplicity.
Each step a singular rhythm,
Each challenge a raw, unscripted melody.

I didn't make it look easy;
I made it look possible.

Resilience is not a performance,
But a quiet, fierce rebellion.

No shortcuts, no easy roads—
Just forward motion,
Carved from determination,
Etched with survival's raw grace.
This poem gives voice to the unseen struggles that accompany strength. It challenges the idea that resilience is effortless, peeling back the layers of solo journeys, hidden battles, and quiet determination. With striking imagery and a steady rhythm, it speaks to the reality of carrying on—not to make it look easy, but to make it possible. It's a reflection on survival, perseverance, and the unspoken grace of moving forward despite it all.
Sora Dec 2024
Dear World,
You owe me.
You are indebted to me for a year of joy
for each minute of anguish I have endured.

Dear World,
you owe me.
You owe me a day of respite
for every fleeting second of stress I endured

Dear World,
You owe me
you owe me yet another half a lifetime
for the cherished childhood
that was unjustly snatched from me.

Dear World,
You owe me
you owe me a new heart,
a worthy substitute
for the one
that has been mercilessly
turned to dust.

Dear World,
You owe me
you owe me a renewed mind,
one liberated from terrors,
freed from the traumas
I did not solicit,
free
from the haunting memories
I endeavored so fiercely to erase,
Free
from the faces of those who inflicted pain upon me,
free
from the anguished cries of my brother,
of my sister,
of my mother,
of my family,
and of myself.

Dear World
You owe me
You owe me
Most significantly
...................................................­....
Esteemed Human,
I,
do not owe you
a single thing.
Vaishnavi Pathak Dec 2024
Struck by stone, now the mirror cracked,
It's beauty, now it lacked.
Not a single belle admired her face,
Nor did the striking adorn his grace.

For now, it was broken,
Lost the praise token.
The outer charm was no longer,
But being forgotten, was the stronger.

Then, lights suddenly shone,
And emerged the grit, unknown.
As the inner strength was intact,
Even the cracked one could reflect.

The belle glowed once more,
And the striking again adorned its core.
The mirror's strength is to reflect,
That no damage could affect.

The outer cracks would be healed,
They are needed for the truth to be revealed.
What is outside, will soon be eliminated,
But inner strength is always celebrated.
Sam S Dec 2024
I wear my kindness like armour,
But don’t be fooled by the glow,
For beneath it lies a fury,
That only few will ever know.

When I choose to show you love,
It’s not a weakness, don’t be deceived,
For a heart that’s been through hell
Knows when to stay, and when to leave.

Be grateful for the peace I give,
And remember, it’s earned, not free.
For I am both fire and stillness,
And you’ll see both,
Please don’t test me.
Liv Dec 2024
I trust you, my love, with all that I am,
your words like anchors, steady and calm.
You tell me your pain is fleeting, a phase,
and I hold to your voice like a beacon in haze.
You are my truth, my rock, my guide,
and I trust in the love you hold inside.

I believe in you, in the strength you bear,
in the quiet assurances whispered with care.
You’ve told me we’re safe, you’ve told me we’re strong,
and I cling to those words like a comforting song.
I know your heart, I know its intent,
and I trust each message your love has sent.

But still, a shadow lingers near,
a whisper of doubt, a trace of fear.
What if one day, without warning or sound,
I wake to find you’ve turned around?
What if the love I fight to sustain
isn’t enough to hold off the rain?

I push myself, I give my all,
to make every day a fortress, tall.
To show you joy, to be your light,
to fight for us through the darkest night.
But in the quiet, a question remains:
what if my love can’t quiet your pain?

What if one day, when the silence grows loud,
and the laughter fades into a passing cloud,
you realize something I can’t yet see—
that maybe you’re better off without me?
It’s not your fault, my love, not at all,
it’s just a fear, a quiet call.

I trust you fully, with every breath,
with every joy, with every depth.
Your love is my harbor, my steady refrain,
and I believe in you, through joy and pain.
But trust doesn’t shield from the fears I hide,
of a day you might drift, or pull aside.

You’ve told me to worry not, and I try,
but the thought of losing you makes me cry.
The dryness that lingers, the weight in the air—
I fight it with hope, with love, with care.
But what if one day, we falter and break?
What if it’s more than we both can take?

Still, I believe in the strength we hold,
the fire that burns through the growing cold.
I trust in us, in the vows we’ve made,
in the promises strong and the fears that fade.
And even in doubt, in shadows unknown,
I trust in your love to guide me home.

So I’ll keep fighting, I’ll keep the flame,
I’ll carry the weight, I’ll shoulder the blame.
I trust in your words, your heart, your eyes,
even as fear within me cries.
For loving you is the bravest part,
and I’ll trust you always—with all my heart.
This is the 2. Part to “the distance between us”
I trust him fully, with heart and soul… I’m just scared that I’ll lose it all… With all my hope and heart… I just wish we don’t grow apart…
Odd Odyssey Poet Nov 2024
Is she merely a commodity, – or is she a daring spirit, traversing
the farthest reaches of love? To express to her young – an odyssey!
Often, they would hastily declare that a woman's deeds are common;
but to counter, her core is to weave a painting of sentences adorned
with countless comas.

She…

Is a stormy love, obliterating all that stands against compassion,
wielding a wisdom that is both fierce and gentle, she knows precisely
when to voice her thoughts or to elevate the spirit of a man who may
overlook her brilliance, a celestial body, she requires no stage to
illuminate the world; her radiance persists, unwavering, she is a
lyrical composition, igniting the pages that attempt to confine her
value, she embodies the sweetest of a restless soul, finally finding
solace in her nurturing embrace, she is tranquillity, she is affection,
she is the embodiment of patience, the lessons and warnings of a
discerning gaze – she is… a Woman.
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