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"confronting" poems
Recovery, Initially, is about knowing;  Knowing that change is necessary, Accepting that your life is not where you want it to be,  About facing up to your fears and anxiety Then taking the first step eventually… When you, and you alone, feel you are ready. Recovery, Critically, demands pure honesty, requires the utmost integrity Most Especially, when confronting your past traumas, your history Though it may make you feel angry, sad and often times guilty This process is key if you really want to move on, to change truly.     Recovery, Truthfully, is far from easy,  It can be fraught with challenges, setbacks, difficulty. It can hurt physically and even worse emotionally, Testing your will power to the extremity. It takes great Strength, Courage and Bravery; Determination, Resilience, in the face of adversity Recovery, Thankfully, need not be a lonely journey, Though you alone must take ultimate responsibility. There are lots of supports out there happily; from good friends, family and in your community Though it can be hard to ask for help, understandably…Let not pride undermine your recovery. Recovery, Ultimately, is about getting where it is you want to be, about starting anew daily About achieving realistic goals you have set regularly, Learning from the process; what worked successfully Starting to believe in yourself gradually, Gaining an insight into what you are capable of ...potentially Finally, Recovery is for all, a lifelong journey, Guarding against ambivalence, relapse, constantly. Knowing that every day will, in reality,  pose real threats for you in your recovery But every day also presents an opportunity… to engage with, enjoy, your life more fully.
0
May 19, 2023
May 19, 2023 at 12:59 PM UTC
damian-murphy
Recovery....
Recovery, Initially, is about knowing;  Knowing that change is necessary, Accepting that your life is not where you want it to be,  About facing up to your fears and anxiety Then taking the first step eventually… When you, and you alone, feel you are ready. Recovery, Critically, demands pure honesty, requires the utmost integrity Most Especially, when confronting your past traumas, your history Though it may make you feel angry, sad and often times guilty This process is key if you really want to move on, to change truly.     Recovery, Truthfully, is far from easy,  It can be fraught with challenges, setbacks, difficulty. It can hurt physically and even worse emotionally, Testing your will power to the extremity. It takes great Strength, Courage and Bravery; Determination, Resilience, in the face of adversity Recovery, Thankfully, need not be a lonely journey, Though you alone must take ultimate responsibility. There are lots of supports out there happily; from good friends, family and in your community Though it can be hard to ask for help, understandably…Let not pride undermine your recovery. Recovery, Ultimately, is about getting where it is you want to be, about starting anew daily About achieving realistic goals you have set regularly, Learning from the process; what worked successfully Starting to believe in yourself gradually, Gaining an insight into what you are capable of ...potentially Finally, Recovery is for all, a lifelong journey, Guarding against ambivalence, relapse, constantly. Knowing that every day will, in reality,  pose real threats for you in your recovery But every day also presents an opportunity… to engage with, enjoy, your life more fully.
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19
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s better, If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn— Sweeter—the Surmising Robins— Never gladdened Tree— Than a Solid Dawn—confronting— Leading to no Day—
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7.9k
Emily Dickinson
Dreams—are well—but Waking’s better
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s better, If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn— Sweeter—the Surmising Robins— Never gladdened Tree— Than a Solid Dawn—confronting— Leading to no Day—
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9
Bravery I thought I was brave with the scars to prove it. My legacy - broken bones, split knuckles, black eyes and loose teeth. Adulation and respect. I fought both man and isms Never backed down. But a black man, driving an Uber taught me the truth of true bravery. Harassed, insulted, threatened by a low-life passenger, white racism covered in a cheap suit and tie, he refused to take the bait. He denied himself the pleasure of justified violence. He told me his story - and anger for him, righteous indignation, crashed over me in furious waves. I admonished him for not confronting that mans ignorance with a closed and determined fist. Never back down, right? Gently, he spoke the truth of black men in America. His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror. You, he said, are innocent until proven guilty. Protected by a system that oppresses me. I am guilty - period - and would be lucky to be arrested, not killed, in a confrontation with that bigot. So he did nothing, let the swine in a tie off at his destination, and drove on - leaving that pig to wallow in his hate. His bravery earned him nothing. No adulation. No respect. No recognition. Nothing except another day of life. Another day with his family. In contrast - my lifetime of bravery. A pale reflection, when set beside his truth. He was brave, not I. My self-styled bravery, forever tainted by my privilege.
0
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 11:53 AM UTC
ron-sparks
Bravery
Bravery I thought I was brave with the scars to prove it. My legacy - broken bones, split knuckles, black eyes and loose teeth. Adulation and respect. I fought both man and isms Never backed down. But a black man, driving an Uber taught me the truth of true bravery. Harassed, insulted, threatened by a low-life passenger, white racism covered in a cheap suit and tie, he refused to take the bait. He denied himself the pleasure of justified violence. He told me his story - and anger for him, righteous indignation, crashed over me in furious waves. I admonished him for not confronting that mans ignorance with a closed and determined fist. Never back down, right? Gently, he spoke the truth of black men in America. His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror. You, he said, are innocent until proven guilty. Protected by a system that oppresses me. I am guilty - period - and would be lucky to be arrested, not killed, in a confrontation with that bigot. So he did nothing, let the swine in a tie off at his destination, and drove on - leaving that pig to wallow in his hate. His bravery earned him nothing. No adulation. No respect. No recognition. Nothing except another day of life. Another day with his family. In contrast - my lifetime of bravery. A pale reflection, when set beside his truth. He was brave, not I. My self-styled bravery, forever tainted by my privilege.
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48
Just as dark rolls back and the sun rises nigh And dawns light can be seen in the eastern sky. From his forest home comes carefully and shy The deer with his headdress held proudly so high. His keen, bright eyes look sharply and true For danger learks but that's nothing new For the experience he has his rack does shew Ten terminating ends that his antlers do He steps forth, onto the grassy clearing Sensing no threat that he need bewaring He continues farther out, more bold and daring Making sure the grass is safe before sharing And just as he is about to feed On tender grass his most favorite indeed It hits his side and he starts to bleed For it has pierced him causing dire need Unable run, to the ground he does fall He coughs on his blood, losing it all And in the distance, hears a cheerful call "Hooray! I got him!" From a tree so tall What remained unknown to the wise, old buck The threat in a tree, such bad luck Waiting to tie a deer to the top of his truck A hunter, by who's bullet, the deer was struck. Please don't think that I am against hunting It's just the facts of life that I am confronting Because you'll see me here quietly munching On a deer steak I fried and am now lunching!
0
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
mike-west
The Deer
Just as dark rolls back and the sun rises nigh And dawns light can be seen in the eastern sky. From his forest home comes carefully and shy The deer with his headdress held proudly so high. His keen, bright eyes look sharply and true For danger learks but that's nothing new For the experience he has his rack does shew Ten terminating ends that his antlers do He steps forth, onto the grassy clearing Sensing no threat that he need bewaring He continues farther out, more bold and daring Making sure the grass is safe before sharing And just as he is about to feed On tender grass his most favorite indeed It hits his side and he starts to bleed For it has pierced him causing dire need Unable run, to the ground he does fall He coughs on his blood, losing it all And in the distance, hears a cheerful call "Hooray! I got him!" From a tree so tall What remained unknown to the wise, old buck The threat in a tree, such bad luck Waiting to tie a deer to the top of his truck A hunter, by who's bullet, the deer was struck. Please don't think that I am against hunting It's just the facts of life that I am confronting Because you'll see me here quietly munching On a deer steak I fried and am now lunching!
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28
We stood in front of my grandmother’s Old almirah, facing each other The peacock feather and empty bags   Of the square room fell silent all over again, Like strangers we stood facing each other. Then they all came, marched in, reflections, Paraded in like martyrs of Brute’s History. I knew them all, she knew them too They came, touched us one by one, Like strangers we stood facing each other. She looked confused just like me Watching life pass by, centuries reuniting After a very long season break, nations- Travelled, explorers stood upstairs watching, Like strangers we stood facing each other. Streets strapped the coffee cans and middle- Aged hospitals swallowed wars. Married women Bend over like animals and in months, unable To breathe they gave birth to few number plates; Like strangers we stood facing each other. The city vomited battles, human heads And dreams of muted foul slaves. Men and- Their violent tradition screeched for blue number- Plates, lean number plates, handsome number plates; Like strangers we stood facing each other. Unexploded bombs bounced happy homes, My brothers, my kids, my mothers Blew their windows and ran, ran away, Ran afar without destination; Like strangers we stood facing each other. They were all dark, their land was darkness Or were we all blind? Like a watchman we preserved darkness, The vapours that filled their glasses did not speak; Like strangers we stood facing each other. We are all reflections, ripples and mirrors Of men-dead and living. They all stood outside my almirah, million faces Inside a mirror. She did recognize them; Like strangers we stood facing each other. She did nothing, an unusable empathy rolled in, The hypocrite did not even cry. In quiet hours she smelt pain, blood and History flowing from confronting corners; Like strangers we stood facing each other. An insignificant obligation drowned her nerve, They needed a home, candle flame, cotton and wool. The land, their land has become unfamiliar And they stood outside locked gates and laws; Like strangers we stood facing each other. They all smelt the same blood, the abused blood, I tried to kiss them and they kissed me back with- Their cold lips. I tried to touch them, they touched- Me back with water in their eyes; Like strangers we stood facing each other.
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Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
Gaye
Like strangers
We stood in front of my grandmother’s Old almirah, facing each other The peacock feather and empty bags   Of the square room fell silent all over again, Like strangers we stood facing each other. Then they all came, marched in, reflections, Paraded in like martyrs of Brute’s History. I knew them all, she knew them too They came, touched us one by one, Like strangers we stood facing each other. She looked confused just like me Watching life pass by, centuries reuniting After a very long season break, nations- Travelled, explorers stood upstairs watching, Like strangers we stood facing each other. Streets strapped the coffee cans and middle- Aged hospitals swallowed wars. Married women Bend over like animals and in months, unable To breathe they gave birth to few number plates; Like strangers we stood facing each other. The city vomited battles, human heads And dreams of muted foul slaves. Men and- Their violent tradition screeched for blue number- Plates, lean number plates, handsome number plates; Like strangers we stood facing each other. Unexploded bombs bounced happy homes, My brothers, my kids, my mothers Blew their windows and ran, ran away, Ran afar without destination; Like strangers we stood facing each other. They were all dark, their land was darkness Or were we all blind? Like a watchman we preserved darkness, The vapours that filled their glasses did not speak; Like strangers we stood facing each other. We are all reflections, ripples and mirrors Of men-dead and living. They all stood outside my almirah, million faces Inside a mirror. She did recognize them; Like strangers we stood facing each other. She did nothing, an unusable empathy rolled in, The hypocrite did not even cry. In quiet hours she smelt pain, blood and History flowing from confronting corners; Like strangers we stood facing each other. An insignificant obligation drowned her nerve, They needed a home, candle flame, cotton and wool. The land, their land has become unfamiliar And they stood outside locked gates and laws; Like strangers we stood facing each other. They all smelt the same blood, the abused blood, I tried to kiss them and they kissed me back with- Their cold lips. I tried to touch them, they touched- Me back with water in their eyes; Like strangers we stood facing each other.
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55
Nor dread nor hope attend A dying animal; A man awaits his end Dreading and hoping all; Many times he died, Many times rose again. A great man in his pride Confronting murderous men Casts derision upon Supersession of breath; He knows death to the bone Man has created death. - W.B.Yeats For:Karijinbba
0
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
karijinbba
I Rose Again and Again
Nor dread nor hope attend A dying animal; A man awaits his end Dreading and hoping all; Many times he died, Many times rose again. A great man in his pride Confronting murderous men Casts derision upon Supersession of breath; He knows death to the bone Man has created death. - W.B.Yeats For:Karijinbba
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14
I Rose Again and Again Nor dread nor hope attend A dying animal; A man awaits his end Dreading and hoping all; Many times he died, Many times rose again. A great man in his pride Confronting murderous men Casts derision upon Supersession of breath; He knows death to the bone Man has created death. By: W.B.Yeats, for Karijinbba ~~ The malice of thiefs injured me nearly killing me st only age five; Men (beasts) in uniform Greedy Feds killed my father five brothers and all grown man and boy in my Purhepetcha Indigenous tribe for the greed of my father's land Man created death repaing evil for my good from the riches of my forest land they ate and lived as kings while I barely survived, but take heed I did rise. On my father's shoulders my seahorse kind of dad beloved he carried and adored me my future he could read perfectly in our starry night sky and love for me happened exactly as dad had predicted it would be from my fathers heart I thrived and I rose and men I did love despite treason by few ~~~~~ By:Karijinbba/AA.
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Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 1:23 AM UTC
karijinbba
From My Father's Land Queen Of The Forest I Rose
I Rose Again and Again Nor dread nor hope attend A dying animal; A man awaits his end Dreading and hoping all; Many times he died, Many times rose again. A great man in his pride Confronting murderous men Casts derision upon Supersession of breath; He knows death to the bone Man has created death. By: W.B.Yeats, for Karijinbba ~~ The malice of thiefs injured me nearly killing me st only age five; Men (beasts) in uniform Greedy Feds killed my father five brothers and all grown man and boy in my Purhepetcha Indigenous tribe for the greed of my father's land Man created death repaing evil for my good from the riches of my forest land they ate and lived as kings while I barely survived, but take heed I did rise. On my father's shoulders my seahorse kind of dad beloved he carried and adored me my future he could read perfectly in our starry night sky and love for me happened exactly as dad had predicted it would be from my fathers heart I thrived and I rose and men I did love despite treason by few ~~~~~ By:Karijinbba/AA.
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25
Here I stand at the edge of the woods, hands trembling At the thought of entering How am I gonna do this My sanctuary I miss But it was taken away One evil dark day Once what brought me joy Now seems to destroy No longer happy memories Me in his clutch is all I see Please my friend take my hand and lead me For the images he left are beastly Hold me tight while I grive For his dark deeds seethe His putrid touch I still feel It's to much, to real I want my sanctuary back I don't want this beautiful place to turn black I want to hear the nightingale's song again Watch the fish in the creeks swim Watch the breeze Play about the tree's I want to once again sit quietly Seeing the deer walk about so skittishly Please my friend hold me tight So these thoughts of his invasion I can fight Please stay right beside So when it gets to much in your arms I can hide This time the darkness I can't fight on my own For the cut he left was down to the bone So grip my hand tight and lead me in One deep breath let us begin Confronting the memory where it began Hold on to me so I can stand Help me dear friend take back this land
0
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
Pauline_Morris
Taking Back My Sanctuary ***** in the Woods)
Here I stand at the edge of the woods, hands trembling At the thought of entering How am I gonna do this My sanctuary I miss But it was taken away One evil dark day Once what brought me joy Now seems to destroy No longer happy memories Me in his clutch is all I see Please my friend take my hand and lead me For the images he left are beastly Hold me tight while I grive For his dark deeds seethe His putrid touch I still feel It's to much, to real I want my sanctuary back I don't want this beautiful place to turn black I want to hear the nightingale's song again Watch the fish in the creeks swim Watch the breeze Play about the tree's I want to once again sit quietly Seeing the deer walk about so skittishly Please my friend hold me tight So these thoughts of his invasion I can fight Please stay right beside So when it gets to much in your arms I can hide This time the darkness I can't fight on my own For the cut he left was down to the bone So grip my hand tight and lead me in One deep breath let us begin Confronting the memory where it began Hold on to me so I can stand Help me dear friend take back this land
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35
I need a mask To hide the fears Ensnaring my heart I need a mask To hide the feelings I still have for you I need a mask To hide my anxieties While talking to you again I need a mask To hide my frustrations Over being not over you I need a mask To hide the chaos That lingers in my broken solace I need a mask To hide the tears And show you a false smile I need a mask To hide the screams That I suppress in my lungs I need a mask To hide my weakness So that you'll never see I need a mask To avoid my fears Of seeing you happy While I drown in my misery I need a mask To create a masterpiece That fools me into thinking I'm gonna be okay I need a mask To hide the fact That until now Nobody can replace you I need a mask To avoid confronting These unavoidable emotions Telling me that I still love you I need a mask To avoid everything about you To keep my sanity in check Even when insanity eats me away I need a mask To hide me from your world So that someday I may forget you I need a mask But which one should I wear When I'm confronted with the truth That you'll never come back to me?
0
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 3:42 PM UTC
LonelyBard
Masks
I need a mask To hide the fears Ensnaring my heart I need a mask To hide the feelings I still have for you I need a mask To hide my anxieties While talking to you again I need a mask To hide my frustrations Over being not over you I need a mask To hide the chaos That lingers in my broken solace I need a mask To hide the tears And show you a false smile I need a mask To hide the screams That I suppress in my lungs I need a mask To hide my weakness So that you'll never see I need a mask To avoid my fears Of seeing you happy While I drown in my misery I need a mask To create a masterpiece That fools me into thinking I'm gonna be okay I need a mask To hide the fact That until now Nobody can replace you I need a mask To avoid confronting These unavoidable emotions Telling me that I still love you I need a mask To avoid everything about you To keep my sanity in check Even when insanity eats me away I need a mask To hide me from your world So that someday I may forget you I need a mask But which one should I wear When I'm confronted with the truth That you'll never come back to me?
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52
670 One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted— One need not be a House— The Brain has Corridors—surpassing Material Place— Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting External Ghost Than its interior Confronting— That Cooler Host. Far safer, through an Abbey gallop, The Stones a’chase— Than Unarmed, one’s a’self encounter— In lonesome Place— Ourself behind ourself, concealed— Should startle most— Assassin hid in our Apartment Be Horror’s least. The Body—borrows a Revolver— He bolts the Door— O’erlooking a superior spectre— Or More—
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2.9k
Emily Dickinson
One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted
670 One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted— One need not be a House— The Brain has Corridors—surpassing Material Place— Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting External Ghost Than its interior Confronting— That Cooler Host. Far safer, through an Abbey gallop, The Stones a’chase— Than Unarmed, one’s a’self encounter— In lonesome Place— Ourself behind ourself, concealed— Should startle most— Assassin hid in our Apartment Be Horror’s least. The Body—borrows a Revolver— He bolts the Door— O’erlooking a superior spectre— Or More—
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21
Here I stand at the edge of the woods, hands trembling At the thought of entering How am I gonna do this My sanctuary I miss But it was taken away One evil dark day Once what brought me joy Now seems to destroy No longer happy memories Me in his clutch is all I see Please my friend take my hand and lead me For the images he left are beastly Hold me tight while I grive For his dark deeds seethe His putrid touch I still feel It's to much, to real I want my sanctuary back I don't want this beautiful place to turn black I want to hear the nightingale's song again Watch the fish in the creeks swim Watch the breeze Play about the tree's I want to once again sit quietly Seeing the deer walk about so skittishly Please my friend hold me tight So these thoughts of his invasion I can fight Please stay right beside So when it gets to much in your arms I can hide This time the darkness I can't fight on my own For the cut he left was down to the bone So grip my hand tight and lead me in One deep breath let us begin Confronting the memory where it began Hold on to me so I can stand Help me dear friend take back this land
0
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
Pauline_Morris
Reclaiming My Sanctuary ***** in the Woods)
Here I stand at the edge of the woods, hands trembling At the thought of entering How am I gonna do this My sanctuary I miss But it was taken away One evil dark day Once what brought me joy Now seems to destroy No longer happy memories Me in his clutch is all I see Please my friend take my hand and lead me For the images he left are beastly Hold me tight while I grive For his dark deeds seethe His putrid touch I still feel It's to much, to real I want my sanctuary back I don't want this beautiful place to turn black I want to hear the nightingale's song again Watch the fish in the creeks swim Watch the breeze Play about the tree's I want to once again sit quietly Seeing the deer walk about so skittishly Please my friend hold me tight So these thoughts of his invasion I can fight Please stay right beside So when it gets to much in your arms I can hide This time the darkness I can't fight on my own For the cut he left was down to the bone So grip my hand tight and lead me in One deep breath let us begin Confronting the memory where it began Hold on to me so I can stand Help me dear friend take back this land
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35
The writer sits and ponders, filled with empty silent dread, ‘Sorry, this word cannot be found’ the smug spellchecker says. Weary of petty complications he drifts, searching for inspiration, soaring through the African sky with glorious, lofty liberation. The yellow plains stretch far below herds of buffalo, running free the lions hide amongst the grass dotted around sandarac trees. He soars now, over snow-capped peaks tableclothed in angry cloud, by eagles, gliding with their young their talons stretched in readiness silhouetted in the fiery sun. He conjures now, Fijian sand, lazy swaying palms crashing frothy, roaring waves; silky banana *** A sparkling ocean glittering, caked with yellow icing, just a mirror for the setting sun. But then wings of grace are stripped and he plummets towards uncertainty, falling back to swivel chair, staring at desk lamps, coffee, burgundy. The rain drizzles down outside, the heating pours through well-placed vents as Chinese Communism awaits: confronting, mocking, dense.
0
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC
dj-goodwin-1
Dreamscape
The writer sits and ponders, filled with empty silent dread, ‘Sorry, this word cannot be found’ the smug spellchecker says. Weary of petty complications he drifts, searching for inspiration, soaring through the African sky with glorious, lofty liberation. The yellow plains stretch far below herds of buffalo, running free the lions hide amongst the grass dotted around sandarac trees. He soars now, over snow-capped peaks tableclothed in angry cloud, by eagles, gliding with their young their talons stretched in readiness silhouetted in the fiery sun. He conjures now, Fijian sand, lazy swaying palms crashing frothy, roaring waves; silky banana *** A sparkling ocean glittering, caked with yellow icing, just a mirror for the setting sun. But then wings of grace are stripped and he plummets towards uncertainty, falling back to swivel chair, staring at desk lamps, coffee, burgundy. The rain drizzles down outside, the heating pours through well-placed vents as Chinese Communism awaits: confronting, mocking, dense.
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29
i. The sight of it brings back memories of Your rival team, confronting you on the line of scrimmage, The rain pouring down, stinging your face, Your breath misting in the arctic air. ii. The smell of it brings you back to that Friday night When you tripped up the bleachers and Spilled popcorn all over yourself because Her red hair and bright smile made you stop in your tracks. iii. The clang of the pins against each other Follows you in the hallway wherever you go, Reminding you of that triumphant feeling That took over when your basketball team won districts. iv. The warm feeling that fills your heart when You give it to her, the red-haired bright-smiled girl, Matches the warm feeling she feels when she Puts it on, drowning in your scent. v. You know that years later, after you’ve left high school And everything about that place behind, The sight of that jacket will bring back all the memories Of football games, Friday nights, championships, and her.
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Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 5:06 PM UTC
TigerLily13
varsity jacket
i. The sight of it brings back memories of Your rival team, confronting you on the line of scrimmage, The rain pouring down, stinging your face, Your breath misting in the arctic air. ii. The smell of it brings you back to that Friday night When you tripped up the bleachers and Spilled popcorn all over yourself because Her red hair and bright smile made you stop in your tracks. iii. The clang of the pins against each other Follows you in the hallway wherever you go, Reminding you of that triumphant feeling That took over when your basketball team won districts. iv. The warm feeling that fills your heart when You give it to her, the red-haired bright-smiled girl, Matches the warm feeling she feels when she Puts it on, drowning in your scent. v. You know that years later, after you’ve left high school And everything about that place behind, The sight of that jacket will bring back all the memories Of football games, Friday nights, championships, and her.
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25
i am sitting here at 3 am confronting the empty side of my bed my thoughts hold me hostage to create a cage that i will not be able to escape i try to play dead until they leave me alone i try to shift shapes for a hope they might leave i try lighting a candle for flicks of light to cast the darkness away but i soon begin to realize that im not afraid of the dark i cant get out of bed my thoughts are holding me hostage im at a place i dont want to be at and can not leave the sound of loneliness slowly begins to deafen me the silver ray of moon is almost blinding me all that i see through the reflection of my glass are the bones of a hollow body, just like silver, starting to rust and here i speak to my thoughts that i have surrendered to their thoughtless plots they ring my ears, with demands to give up my soul to their filthy hands i stumble as i try to stand up i am as weak as a sedated body ready to be cut my knees tremble like magnets attached to no other but my bed they repel any movement to stand up straight panic fills my fearful cup my gaze shifts to my reflection and i see the ghost of forgotten remains of someone who has lost i do not want to die i deserve more than being ended by no other than my filthy thoughts i force my eyes open and smash the reflection with both my fists adrenaline painfully waking my body up with every ounce i have left i try to detach myself from my bed i am peeling layers off and have never been in more pain but it is all worth the pain for i wont fail myself again to become forgotten ruins of a life-time faded into a blank sheet there is more to my story than just an empty bed for i will not be manipulated by my own self again even if it shall be 3 a.m again
0
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
jaayyee
3 a.m
i am sitting here at 3 am confronting the empty side of my bed my thoughts hold me hostage to create a cage that i will not be able to escape i try to play dead until they leave me alone i try to shift shapes for a hope they might leave i try lighting a candle for flicks of light to cast the darkness away but i soon begin to realize that im not afraid of the dark i cant get out of bed my thoughts are holding me hostage im at a place i dont want to be at and can not leave the sound of loneliness slowly begins to deafen me the silver ray of moon is almost blinding me all that i see through the reflection of my glass are the bones of a hollow body, just like silver, starting to rust and here i speak to my thoughts that i have surrendered to their thoughtless plots they ring my ears, with demands to give up my soul to their filthy hands i stumble as i try to stand up i am as weak as a sedated body ready to be cut my knees tremble like magnets attached to no other but my bed they repel any movement to stand up straight panic fills my fearful cup my gaze shifts to my reflection and i see the ghost of forgotten remains of someone who has lost i do not want to die i deserve more than being ended by no other than my filthy thoughts i force my eyes open and smash the reflection with both my fists adrenaline painfully waking my body up with every ounce i have left i try to detach myself from my bed i am peeling layers off and have never been in more pain but it is all worth the pain for i wont fail myself again to become forgotten ruins of a life-time faded into a blank sheet there is more to my story than just an empty bed for i will not be manipulated by my own self again even if it shall be 3 a.m again
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54
progressively irrelevant, i write. each strike comes, reverberating chords in chambers all my history reveals-- voices forge a living thought, steam quietly; truth is spent confronting hidden dangers that, when alight between the flicker awe our fire-starting letters linger still to question ashen marvels of, phoenixlike enveloping that subtle being-as annulled to meaninglessness tolled. a bare encounter with the void leaves off, no symbols rally convalescent winds for shaping form amenable to time-- rather, my lostness leads to this, and dies.
0
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
vircapio-gale
title, titled, cryptic title foundry wax
progressively irrelevant, i write. each strike comes, reverberating chords in chambers all my history reveals-- voices forge a living thought, steam quietly; truth is spent confronting hidden dangers that, when alight between the flicker awe our fire-starting letters linger still to question ashen marvels of, phoenixlike enveloping that subtle being-as annulled to meaninglessness tolled. a bare encounter with the void leaves off, no symbols rally convalescent winds for shaping form amenable to time-- rather, my lostness leads to this, and dies.
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14
Running away from her feelings Don't want no hurt Don't want inspiration They only subvert Her poor fragile heart She gives her all Gets smithereens in return Don't want no broken dreams Don't want empty hopes Don't want those sleepless nights It's a periscope Couldn't see it before Now she knows She's a shell of the old her No signs of reverting Built walls around her heart so high, The heavens are confronting It's comforting This deserting Feeling of the heart No one's gonna break me She says asserting No one's gonna hurt me Her lips reverberating Eyes full of misery Her loneliness shines through Captivating silver eyes Moist with morning dew Or are those tears? Taking a hue Of molten silver Or the dark stormy nights They've witnessed all along When they all eschewed When they all ran away Well, adieu They don't deserve her anyway Don't deserve her beautiful soul Don't deserve her unconditional love Or the compassion she holds Her blinding bright smile Or the twinkle of her eyes The softness of her lips She exists to mesmerize So, adieu Because she's a fighter An igniter Of the passion he holds Adieu He says thankyou Because she's a queen And all his to love Oh if you only knew. ~S.L.
0
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 6:14 AM UTC
s-layaan
Beyond Silver Eyes
Running away from her feelings Don't want no hurt Don't want inspiration They only subvert Her poor fragile heart She gives her all Gets smithereens in return Don't want no broken dreams Don't want empty hopes Don't want those sleepless nights It's a periscope Couldn't see it before Now she knows She's a shell of the old her No signs of reverting Built walls around her heart so high, The heavens are confronting It's comforting This deserting Feeling of the heart No one's gonna break me She says asserting No one's gonna hurt me Her lips reverberating Eyes full of misery Her loneliness shines through Captivating silver eyes Moist with morning dew Or are those tears? Taking a hue Of molten silver Or the dark stormy nights They've witnessed all along When they all eschewed When they all ran away Well, adieu They don't deserve her anyway Don't deserve her beautiful soul Don't deserve her unconditional love Or the compassion she holds Her blinding bright smile Or the twinkle of her eyes The softness of her lips She exists to mesmerize So, adieu Because she's a fighter An igniter Of the passion he holds Adieu He says thankyou Because she's a queen And all his to love Oh if you only knew. ~S.L.
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54
My bones are shattered porcelains And Dr Frankenstein is recreating My body from the toes up I have more screws than tarsals More plates than fibulas More scars than cracked paint on derelict homes Greens, yellows, blues, blacks and purple Dye my leg in splendid hues Plaster decorates my toes and pokes under my knees Pins and needles tingle constantly But these are made of steel as well as Peripheral neuropathy My hospital discharge form Reads like poetry Displaced tibea Goes on adventure and brings back Swollen instead of souvenirs And crushed ligaments as testament To broken steps they have fallen on Perhaps it is not as profound as sunsets or romance But I am finding beauty in pain Intricacies in injury And the limits of my creativity To distract from nightmares Of how this happened And to drown out the hungry goblins Deep in my guts demanding opiates Like drunken teenagers They loot my stash and trash my viscera Legal or not I'm still a ****** Writing poetry rather than sleeping- Confronting demons with stanzas. Over screams I am armed with the arsenals Of metaphor, personification and symbolism Whatever the pain, my posse of poetry and prose Has always got my back
0
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:27 AM UTC
violet-wade
Broken legs a non poem
My bones are shattered porcelains And Dr Frankenstein is recreating My body from the toes up I have more screws than tarsals More plates than fibulas More scars than cracked paint on derelict homes Greens, yellows, blues, blacks and purple Dye my leg in splendid hues Plaster decorates my toes and pokes under my knees Pins and needles tingle constantly But these are made of steel as well as Peripheral neuropathy My hospital discharge form Reads like poetry Displaced tibea Goes on adventure and brings back Swollen instead of souvenirs And crushed ligaments as testament To broken steps they have fallen on Perhaps it is not as profound as sunsets or romance But I am finding beauty in pain Intricacies in injury And the limits of my creativity To distract from nightmares Of how this happened And to drown out the hungry goblins Deep in my guts demanding opiates Like drunken teenagers They loot my stash and trash my viscera Legal or not I'm still a ****** Writing poetry rather than sleeping- Confronting demons with stanzas. Over screams I am armed with the arsenals Of metaphor, personification and symbolism Whatever the pain, my posse of poetry and prose Has always got my back
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36
His mother's dumb face His father's cold drinks It's all fun and games 'Till the happiness sinks He'll walk straight inside Not announcing his presence Stare fear in the eye And inhale killer's essence Walk up to his room And open his door Foreshadowing doom That box on the floor Within it? The metal He stole it for fun The steel 'shakes his settle' In the form of a gun He tugs on the hammer And pulls back the slide Waits 'till the clamor Of anxiety subsides Remembers the beatings His father would lay Remembers the feeding Of lies in the hay He waltzes down stairs With the gun in both hands At the very last step He nervously stands He won't just say 'blam' And pull back the trigger His thoughts make a plan A process much bigger Confronting them both At the small kitchen table He didn't once choke When he said "I am able" He pointed the gun But his resolve soon shattered And in shame, shot himself Saying first "It won't matter!" His plan had recoiled But his mission still stood As the bullet hit oil And caught fire to the wood And the flames licked and climbed And the roof burned and caved And the family died In the fiery blaze And the town down the road Never did realize The church choir sings odes And a young lady cries But never word flew Of the evil within 'Till the killers mind slew Just a boy and his kin
0
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
Wtevr
Shantytown Suicide
His mother's dumb face His father's cold drinks It's all fun and games 'Till the happiness sinks He'll walk straight inside Not announcing his presence Stare fear in the eye And inhale killer's essence Walk up to his room And open his door Foreshadowing doom That box on the floor Within it? The metal He stole it for fun The steel 'shakes his settle' In the form of a gun He tugs on the hammer And pulls back the slide Waits 'till the clamor Of anxiety subsides Remembers the beatings His father would lay Remembers the feeding Of lies in the hay He waltzes down stairs With the gun in both hands At the very last step He nervously stands He won't just say 'blam' And pull back the trigger His thoughts make a plan A process much bigger Confronting them both At the small kitchen table He didn't once choke When he said "I am able" He pointed the gun But his resolve soon shattered And in shame, shot himself Saying first "It won't matter!" His plan had recoiled But his mission still stood As the bullet hit oil And caught fire to the wood And the flames licked and climbed And the roof burned and caved And the family died In the fiery blaze And the town down the road Never did realize The church choir sings odes And a young lady cries But never word flew Of the evil within 'Till the killers mind slew Just a boy and his kin
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56
I am not of this world Said she The world of mediocrity I am not part Of this trivial life This life of work And endless strife I do not want this inner struggle I’ve been drowning in this abysmal puddle The puddle appears shallow and harmless You are not the one Confronting its acrimoniousness You are not haunted by its bitter taste Being pulled down into its grotesque waste You’ve no idea how arduous it can be Poor, penniless, hopeless Like me Sarah Hall Minks copyright 4/28/12
0
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
sarah-minks
Puddle
I am not of this world Said she The world of mediocrity I am not part Of this trivial life This life of work And endless strife I do not want this inner struggle I’ve been drowning in this abysmal puddle The puddle appears shallow and harmless You are not the one Confronting its acrimoniousness You are not haunted by its bitter taste Being pulled down into its grotesque waste You’ve no idea how arduous it can be Poor, penniless, hopeless Like me Sarah Hall Minks copyright 4/28/12
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18
I'm not usually like this or so i like to think my thoughts chase in the direction of you when hope begins to shrink as long as i can remember I've only wanted a few the funny thing is that I'm picky but i compare them all to you when i sit here all alone making excuses for your lies i start thinking to myself how many more tries? i know that i deserve better but my hold on you is so firm and when i think of letting go… i start to itch and squirm maybe its the idea of you that keeps me dredging on because i still whisper to your shadow when i know that you're long gone and when i picture happiness your image blinks and skips will you be the one by my side? or slip though my fingertips its seems that all we've got is time I've already waited years and although I'm trying to better myself i keep confronting my fears am i good enough for you? what will it take you to commit you tell me that I'm the one for you but here alone i sit so ill pull another petal off he loves me, he loves me not.. and someday ill see if its worth it all every battle that I've fought
0
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 12:29 PM UTC
sondra-daugherty
Great White Buffalo
I'm not usually like this or so i like to think my thoughts chase in the direction of you when hope begins to shrink as long as i can remember I've only wanted a few the funny thing is that I'm picky but i compare them all to you when i sit here all alone making excuses for your lies i start thinking to myself how many more tries? i know that i deserve better but my hold on you is so firm and when i think of letting go… i start to itch and squirm maybe its the idea of you that keeps me dredging on because i still whisper to your shadow when i know that you're long gone and when i picture happiness your image blinks and skips will you be the one by my side? or slip though my fingertips its seems that all we've got is time I've already waited years and although I'm trying to better myself i keep confronting my fears am i good enough for you? what will it take you to commit you tell me that I'm the one for you but here alone i sit so ill pull another petal off he loves me, he loves me not.. and someday ill see if its worth it all every battle that I've fought
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36
551 There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself— A best Disgrace—a Brave Man feels— Acknowledged—of the Brave— One More—”Ye Blessed”—to be told— But that’s—Behind the Grave—
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1.8k
Emily Dickinson
There is a Shame of Nobleness
551 There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself— A best Disgrace—a Brave Man feels— Acknowledged—of the Brave— One More—”Ye Blessed”—to be told— But that’s—Behind the Grave—
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9
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat! Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child— Confronting eyes long—comforted— Blisters the Adamant!
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1.8k
Emily Dickinson
I’ll send the feather from my Hat!
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat! Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child— Confronting eyes long—comforted— Blisters the Adamant!
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7
1274 The Bone that has no Marrow, What Ultimate for that? It is not fit for Table For Beggar or for Cat. A Bone has obligations— A Being has the same— A Marrowless Assembly Is culpabler than shame. But how shall finished Creatures A function fresh obtain? Old Nicodemus’ Phantom Confronting us again!
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1.8k
Emily Dickinson
The Bone that has no Marrow
1274 The Bone that has no Marrow, What Ultimate for that? It is not fit for Table For Beggar or for Cat. A Bone has obligations— A Being has the same— A Marrowless Assembly Is culpabler than shame. But how shall finished Creatures A function fresh obtain? Old Nicodemus’ Phantom Confronting us again!
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13
Oh, How God test us? To change us. To impress us to see our truth. When confronting your self racism? We limit our views on certain level and express on others. A Jewish soul marry and Italian soul. And instantly we attack the marriage and play the religious route concerning them. Even addressing this upon the children's blessed between them. We, get more intense and enrage when we see another perspective. A black male marry around white female in union. And quickly we run the route of vengeance toward them. Maybe because of the slavery past that so closely connected to the races. Instead of seeing love, we see race without confronting our self racism. Oh, the heat is more upon the white race. Although various blacks can be just as worse. And strange to admit, we hear the best racism preached in the house of the Lord by the church leaders. And odds as it may seem to many. Being racist doesn't get you any closer to heaven.
0
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
jeffrey-conyers
Confronting Your Self Racism
Oh, How God test us? To change us. To impress us to see our truth. When confronting your self racism? We limit our views on certain level and express on others. A Jewish soul marry and Italian soul. And instantly we attack the marriage and play the religious route concerning them. Even addressing this upon the children's blessed between them. We, get more intense and enrage when we see another perspective. A black male marry around white female in union. And quickly we run the route of vengeance toward them. Maybe because of the slavery past that so closely connected to the races. Instead of seeing love, we see race without confronting our self racism. Oh, the heat is more upon the white race. Although various blacks can be just as worse. And strange to admit, we hear the best racism preached in the house of the Lord by the church leaders. And odds as it may seem to many. Being racist doesn't get you any closer to heaven.
Continue reading...
18