"courageously" poems
'I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty;
I woke, and found that life was duty.
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
And thou shall find thy dream to be
A noonday light and truth to thee.'
72k
you can either
keep yourself up at night
wondering
"why me?"
you can hide under your covers
and tell everyone
you're wrong and you'll
never be right
or you can see all this
heartbreak
pain
conflict
imperfection
as an opportunity
to emerge from the concealed depths
to the gleaming luminescence
and become stronger
it is your choice to decide
whether to drown in your troubles
or to courageously survive
because the harder the struggle
the more spirited you become in the end
"the deeper the mud
the more beautiful the lotus blooms"
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
INSECURE GENERATION
The generation of today is living an insecure life.
Life full of comparison
Possession of things without thinking of what may happen
A generation trying to prove others that they are the best
A generation where young and energetic men are trying to prove themselves by destroying others.
A generation where big and high class daddies destroy the young with material things
A confused generation showing their happiness and wealth through photography
A confused generation hard to love people from a broken family
Everything is invalid!
We suffer insecurities we didn't create
Many are becoming insecure
Completely unstable
Trying to compare themselves with our today's models and celebrities of our century
Probably hiding behind makeup
Cause probably without the makeup!
They,themselves are a hot mess!
They pay a ransom to look great!
If beauty is in the eyes of the beholder!
Then,why suffer so much trying to look spectacular?
Why spend to your last coin attracting a whole lot of people?
They say beauty comes from within
Our generation need to stand courageously
And fight against the enemy of self insecurity!
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
Is this everything now, the quick delusions of flowers,
And the down colors of the bright summer meadow,
The soft blue spread of heaven, the bees' song,
Is this everything only a god's
Groaning dream,
The cry of unconscious powers for deliverance?
The distant line of the mountain,
That beautifully and courageously rests in the blue,
Is this too only a convulsion,
Only the wild strain of fermenting nature,
Only grief, only agony, only meaningless fumbling,
Never resting, never a blessed movement?
No! Leave me alone, you impure dream
Of the world in suffering!
The dance of tiny insects cradles you in an evening radiance,
The bird's cry cradles you,
A breath of wind cools my forehead
With consolation.
Leave me alone, you unendurably old human grief!
Let it all be pain.
Let it all be suffering, let it be wretched-
But not this one sweet hour in the summer,
And not the fragrance of the red clover,
And not the deep tender pleasure
In my soul.
4.2k
Mary Rose, the mighty sailing sea vessel glided majestically across the waves
She had robustly and bravely sailed the briny waves for many a night and day
With the ocean's heaving gusting squalls blowing off proud stern and mast
Sailing victorious and proud - her billowing white sails were cast
The calm, liquid waters of the sea flowed quietly purple for now-
Unaware of the coming storm that would beat furious against her bow
Her alabaster sails whipped violent and furious in the oncoming storm
Impending doom was yelling its cries while the ****** went unwarned
Down below, inside their cabins the ****** peacefully slept
Wrapped in the secure watch that their gallant captain kept
The oceans black, boiling waves beat savage against starboard and port
As Captain Noe standing fearless - at first quake, did not the storm report
The old wooden beams of the Mary Rose began to restlessly moan and creak
While the blackened roaring, rolling waves beat furious against her feet
Her alabaster sails rose proud- beating mighty against wailing squalls and gusts
While deep inside the bow in bunks, the sleeping ****** ******
Suddenly...they heard the captain's distraught voice cry out
When the ****** heard his voice -they heard fear without doubt
“Awake, all of ye’ ”, Captain Noe forcefully roared
“Alive! Awake… all ye’ ****** come quickly up on board”!
The savage spirit of the sea reigned fierce with rage and fear
While the brave captain fought - loyal ****** brought up the rear
They courageously fought together - not silenced by the eye of death
As the sea raged violently against them with its brutal, menacing breath
To save their mighty Mary Rose, they’d dip their very souls in blood
Leaving themselves merciless against this drunken, mighty flood
With plank and bow standing fierce between them and their fate
The raging ocean’s fierce, blackened waves - the sea they could not hate
The morning brought the warming sun which rose broad above the waves
The winds had tamed their violent voice against captain and ****** brave
With unshakable courage and seaman’s wit not once were spirits broke
Each cheered his mate and captain strong as they fought with steady stroke
Their peril fought in days of danger and night filled with pain
Their manly courage did not wane - their fight was not in vain
For all the courageous ****** and their brave Captain Noe
Joined together in hand and spirit to save...their proud Mary Rose
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 6:15 PM UTC
The broken glass lies on the floor
in front of me.
It has shattered into many pieces,
just as my spirit has done so
many times before.
I have struggled for a long time
to find my place in this world,
but, one thing I have never questioned,
is my identity.
Beneath the surface,
God has bestowed upon me the
greatest beauty of all – my heart.
Not in its physical form,
but, in its spiritual one,
is what defines my identity.
Simply known as character,
it is how one is seen
leading their life,
each and every day.
With pride, my identity
can shine onto others,
as an example of how
a heart can be so loving,
so caring, so understanding,
so compassionate, so kind.
All of these traits are
what comprise my identity.
Forever, I will personify these traits,
like one who proudly wears
a badge of courage;
a badge to show that
I have weathered the
toughest of battles,
and have come out
stronger than ever .
Along the way,
with each challenge presented,
not once has my identity faltered.
As I pick up the pieces
of the broken glass,
I place them all together
on the surface in front of me.
The cracked glass outline
reminds me of my many failures;
however, I look past the
fissures that are apparent on the surface,
and see my identity staring back at me.
It is complete, and reflective,
not fragmented and dull.
Even though certain facets
of my life remain unclear to me now,
my identity is something
that I am most certain of.
With pride, I carry it with
me every day; with honor,
I display it courageously.
Vicki A. Zinn
March 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
The Whys of My Briefcase
don't know where you keep yours,
mine, immediately resigned,
to my black briefcase
the bills I cannot pay,
the notices that I knew
would unfailingly come some day,
the letters to my children,
signed, sealed but never to be
delivered till much later, maybe,
by someone else's hand
and so,
I carry my briefcase
every day,
an appendage human,
opens only for additions,
never any subtractions,
many reminders included,
for letters previous posted, sent,
and stamped~marked
past, way past, overdue
the authorities demand satisfaction,
at the very least they want my
whereabouts
the doctors asks,
what's wrong,
you never filled that essential
prescription~poem I wrote for you,
that was even writ legible
so you could not deny its
existing urgency
that **** briefcase is so heavy,
tempted to chuck it into the Peconic,
but it was a loving gift from her,
not realizing that I carried no case,
just so burdens invisible
were imagined lighter, or extinct,
but easily ignored
where do you keep yours?
the forget~me~knots that you
don't want but can't crush
legally or courageously
when they open that unhappy pandora,
they will wonder why nothing was e'er said,
but they won't ask twice, but understand,
for who among us
does not have a black briefcase?
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
I’ve had myriad seizures in my life.
I’m however, still alive.
An obscure force constantly attacked me.
A force directly proportional to gravity.
God granted serenity to accept the certainty,
Epilepsy, you’re in my life.
You don’t own my life.
My cognitive function has been dented.
I’ve been labelled and painted.
Sometimes even laughed at.
Seized, fell and rose countlessly.
I soldiered on courageously.
Giving up has never been an option.
I never took my eyes off the goal posts.
Epilepsy tried to shift the goal posts.
Against all odds, I graduated.
Applause as I approach the podium.
They applaud for academic success.
I however applaud for overcoming epilepsy.
Hospital was my other home during studies.
Marks capped, academic record not true image of success.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
my son is a better version of me
i easily break
he rides storms smilingly
i crumble in a crisis
he handles stoically
my emotions play loud on face
he hides it handsomely
i'm doubtful of exploring
he ventures courageously
i speculate on life too much
he bothers not seriously
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
I lie awake each night
Long after you're asleep
I envy your restful slumber
Through salty eyes I weep
As the air thickens
I struggle just to breathe
Bowing my head in sorrow
I pray so desperately...
Grant my mind solace
If my thoughts go astray
Give me strength to carry through;
To fight grief courageously
Protect me from the pain
That haunts my every thought
Awaken my restless spirit
If my dreams become too dark
Make my heart resilient
When it shatters painfully
Teach me about patience
While I gather it, piece by piece
Allow me the courage
To assemble it once again
As I try not to crush
The fragile pieces in my hand
If my strength grows weary
Or I tremble at the knees,
Steady my soul & hold my hand
So I may stumble gracefully
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 2:51 AM UTC
I need you
To tell me it’s okay. I’m allergic to hay and scarecrows do their job.
Get me high, cheer me up. Let’s go on a trip.
Show me around munchkin town and their residents might lead us to the wizard. We might get stuck in a blizzard but I’ll refuse to let that cold, white powder outshine my shoes. See, I’m done with the blues. You can tickle my sore, ruby red feet. Force out of me a fluttering laugh. We’ll go somewhere over the rainbow and back. Sing me a song and I’ll try to follow along
This yellow brick road.
Pass up each rest stop but you can take me to gift shops. You can buy me a stuffed lion. Unless you’d rather the zoo. I did always need a little spontaneity to live courageously.
But who cares?
I do. Because if I only had a brain, I’d think to grease up my tin friend and give him my… a heart.
There’s a start!
I don’t wanna stop this groove in my heart… I mean… my ruby shoes, but life isn’t all emerald castles, chimney tops, and lemon drops. Over the rainbow there is no *** of gold and behind the green curtain there’s no all-seeing wizard.
Only a selfish leprechaun who sees no further than his own lashes.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
The following statements of truth were brought to you
Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters
Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative
Mechanisms that formally give birth to ********
And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with
Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic,
Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real:
The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast
To follow is to snap the head backward,
Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit
And open gates to deluging tangled circular
Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat.
We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors
Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error
In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where
The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed.
One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms.
For the record, it shall be noted that civil society
Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine
To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors
That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work
And make benefactors of those complicit in crime.
As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe
Nations signing trade agreements aligned with
Selling more of the goods whose extractions have
Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist.
Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions.
The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear
Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death.
Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity,
And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide.
As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak
I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
Beautiful soul is what you are.
In some dark days you are my star.
You are an extension of God's love.
I can't deny the fact that you are blessing from above.
Everything of you is a part of me.
Your beautiful side is what I always see.
You are a person who fights for what is right.
And sometimes this cause you to cry at night.
Since before, you've been always thoughtful.
I saw the times when you became fearful.
Deep down I felt the tears you've shed,
and courageously to God you prayed and pled.
The time I met you was one of the best-
the best time to say that I am blessed!
We both know that I am not a perfect friend,
but you offered me something that will last 'til the end.
Fun things are what we always do.
Remember the days when we tried to fly and climbed trees, too?
I remembered a day when you cried a lot,
because you were playing and had a deep cut.
Rainy days! One of our favorite days!
We were excited to run and play.
Laughing, running, throwing mud.
We even tried to play in the flood.
Impossible things became possible to us,
There were many things that we liked to discuss.
We became fake animals and superheroes.
We had a pet frog- oh yeah, we were weirdos!
Each day was a time to had fun.
We didn't care about the heat of the sun.
We embraced every bruises we had.
Friends come and go- we were always glad.
Now that we are grown ups and at our 20's,
no more plays and doing important duties.
Memories and friendship will remain the same.
Some things about us, now I acclaim.
Dear best friend, I pray and hope all the best for you.
I and God will always help you to get through.
Let's look on forward to what is best,
and stick together, for we know that God will do the rest.
-Steph Dionisio, February 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 3:18 AM UTC
My tears fall courageously
Leaving the safety
and shelter of my eye
Braving down the cliff of my cheek
Fearlessly jumping off
the edge of my chin
Jul 6, 2022
Jul 6, 2022 at 9:07 AM UTC
Staying in tune with the balance
Courageously looking into the mind's eye
into all eyes
what is swirling in my limitless expanse?
Recursive Recursive
Tell me your dreams
share in thought
find the silence holding the world's sound
Peace is a pebble in the blinding storm, Pick it up
Fantasy touch Reality
Drive along watch
Find the tower over looking the expanse
climb the mountain high
stare around the expanse until your vision meets the endless horizons
its all out there
globular circle, perpetual motion machine
spinning, flying, tumbling round & round
hurtling at 7 decatillion light years
through time space and beyond
we, these seeming ants along for the ride of our life
space time travelers placidly in our world of chaos adapting,
adaptive shoulder shruggers on a planetary scale
This planetary potential genius to awake in us all
Does the last man come?
What will the over man make of paradise?
Sleepy progenitors, laugh
shake your curly hairy heads
cover yourself with rags if you must,
or Don't!
Are you comfortable in skin?
Do you fathom what is beyond your sensual limits?
***** woman do you know?
Have you found it in your fleshy delights,
the secret invitation for discovery is in every niche, every hole, every fold, every kiss, every caress, every stare, every touch, every smooth slide, fingertips tracing lines of hips, lips, backs, calves, feet, jaw, ear, cheek.
A young lover may know it there, or especially an old, a bucktramp
or the loveliest ***** lady
Label the divine and holy if you must
its all out there waiting and engaging
its here now with you, with us
linking along
the water moves but is constantly there, co arising,
what wave is where
Its all here
chant OM, can you feel it?
Hold that vibration, pulsate with your mouth closed and hum and shout melodically
emitting the vibe
Be the Vibeman.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Memories.
Filling the void between realities.
Each of your words
A reverberating tune,
Telling me over and over
A twisted sense of your ego.
Surviving id all that I have after you.
Each movement.
Each breath.
Each thought,
All constantly calculated to fight for life.
Battle my eternal fear
As I stomach seeing your face.
Courageously push past your body,
Closing my eyes,
As if reality was just a nightmare,
As if your essence never once
Forced itself upon my skin.
No.
Your hands grasp blindly in the darkness,
And for now,
In my mind,
I am gone.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
Some things are sadly poetic
Like the cougar whose boyfriend
Won’t come back outside and she’s alone
At the only table in the cold
smoking a pall mall,
Having a beer.
Some things are refreshingly poetic
like leaving the office for a bit with the boss
and going somewhere
where there are domes made of pure gold
and priests who pour milk on them from
helicopters.
Some things are interestingly poetic;
like the poet, turned novelist, turned artist,
who does landscaping to cover the spread.
Some things are courageously and nostalgically
And hurtfully poetic,
Like not seeing your family for nine years
Because the money’s good where you're at,
And plane tickets and passports are outrageous.
Some things should not be
poetic, but they are, because they are truthful
And that is verse;
like the waitress who was *****
when she cashed her check at a grocery store
after the night shift
and she wasn’t the only one in her car
when she got back.
Some things are poetry because they come
Into this world quietly
And bleeding internally,
and yet they survive
Even though their lungs are full of fluid,
And they can barely breathe.
Some things are poetry because they happened
And nothing can change that.
And because
Poetry is
unchangeable, immovable, and
grotesque, beautiful, uncomfortable, calming,
disfiguring, life-giving, ****** up,
Possibly ****** possibly a nectar
That God
or whoever the ****
allowed to be put on paper,
Possibly a way to talk about pain,
Possibly roided up with someone else’s words,
Possibly a way to talk about
the pure dream of a girl’s body
Without being a ***** *****
Poetry is love in the worst
and most unimaginable ways.
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC
It still haunts and keeps me anxious when silence comes in the form of uninvited guests at night, invoking the sense of melancholy deeply; like a salt rubbed on a fresh wound.
Part of me still wishes to turn back the time and rewrite the story, part of me aches for TABULA RASA~ a state of blank mind.
And part of me is still reeling on the nightmares which was my reality; while I was still trying to hold a grip over my sanity.
Monster exist in humans and sometime they're insidious like cancer. They eat you slowly while you're still unaware of the symptoms that you had to compromise with. The more you compromised and adjusted, the more it gave them the chance to deteriorate your worth.
I wore a smile and wore my mask of resilience so well that silently I bore the pain, while I was dying inside, yet nobody could see it with naked eyes.
And yet, I was blamed for all the repercussions I had to deal with.
And while the monster lurks around freely, I still walk on the path courageously, with fear but I'll keep walking on, even if it means to be alone.
Freedom is a lonely road.
👣
May 11, 2022
May 11, 2022 at 1:08 PM UTC
Push and pull forevermore as you bend to the moon's will,
Enter effortlessly into life's oasis as you heed the universe and its call,
You are a reservoir of potential and abundance,
Flow courageously at your own stride,
For this too shall pass.
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 10:29 PM UTC
My soul has been sad for far too long.
I want to be joyful again.
I want the still, small, quiet moments to not be filled with anyones memory.
My soul aches and my body is tired.
I wish I never learned the truth about you, at least then I could go to sleep with the perfect image I had of you in my head.
But you distorted it.
My eyes were opened.
I was forced to see the truth.
It wasn't because of what you thought was best for me.
It wasn't romantic, selfless, valiant, or brave.
It was selfish, narcissistic, egotistical, lustful and painful.
Nothing will change that.
But I'm a lover.
I don't love many,
but the ones I do,
I always will.
I love deeply, courageously, boldly, widely, and freely.
I just need to let go of your memory,
so that my soul can be happy again.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 1:24 AM UTC
Courage is grace
Grace under pressure
I saw it written
In a florist's book
As I walk down the street
I see my old friend
He greets me cheerfully
And somehow he laughs
He's going to be fired
After thirty odd years
Grace under pressure
Grace under pressure
Each day I rotate
And I spin and I turn
How can I create?
Can I create?
I need to give more
Be more, learn more
Turn my old heart
Inside out
Get what's within me
Onto the outside
I can’t hold it in
I have to release
No matter how ugly
Life's not always pretty
Sometimes it's sick
Unhappy, unholy
But that’s what it is
That's just what it is
I will wonder aloud
How to use my power
In which direction
To focus my strength
To be as I am
Just as I am
And pass days with dignity
One then another.
The Dragon Blood tree
On the isle of Socotra
Stands tall and quiet
Uncomplainingly
The Dragon Blood tree
Shows grace under pressure
It lives as it should
Courageously
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC
You articulate in swift flight, confidence soaring,
plenitude of words, justly convincing.
Floating on breathless wind between here and there.
Fumbling with sense, coherence of purpose
between twisted bed sheets, whispering pillows;
In the freeze frame static of moonless nights.
I feel the yearning burn towards hoping truth
in a splintering fire against which I warm;
crackling up all your feathers, and concord.
In the daylight you scatter ordinance together,
recklessly aspiring to repair undoing damage:
Wings stunted irrevocably through flailing flighted dreams.
Unknown weighted obstacles glide courageously in hurtled silence,
sideways across the cool air of this post-nested room;
Waiting for gold and diamonds to appear, glorified.
The slightest movement uttered punctures you,
a soggy blown balloon squirting off these walls-
dexterity lays useless on this love-laden floor.
I stare at you spewed inanimately,
like splattered spaghetti in a fitting rage,
across the boards of our echoing abode.
Depths of sightlessness reveal tentatively:
There exists no place for a soul
on the unstable face of the dead.
Oct 25, 2009
Oct 25, 2009 at 2:29 PM UTC