"discourage" poems
Take care of me,
Be there for me.
Never discourage me,
Love me unconditionally.
You're supposed to be my mother.
But you treat me like I'm nothing.
I'm sick of your constant disrespect,
The loss of love in your eyes that makes me want to cry,
It's itching inside of the back of my mind.
And someday I'll say goodbye to you,
You won't want me to,
But you can't make me stay.
You're not my mom.
But until then,
I'll be walking in the rain.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
Hey there,
I am me. Me am I.
A black beauty am I.
The sun smiled at my body and turned my skin into its own little chocolate factory.
Several shades of a dazzling dark complexion.
A black beauty am me.
As I walk, the view of my curves captivates the attention of all those looking on.
Wow they say, **** isn't she fine.
A black beauty am I.
People often underestimate my potential but they don't know that there's more to me than meets the eye.
My intelligence allows my voice to be heard because I excel at everything I do.
A black beauty am me.
A warrior, a fighter, a lover and a friend. I am a black beauty who believes in the power of sisterhood
to uplift rather than tear down;
to encourage rather than discourage;
to dream rather than to fight.
Not only am I beautifully black but I am me and me am I...Black beauty....
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 10:13 AM UTC
My mind isn't big enough for an escape
My mind, I am trapped in a disadvantage
Usually my mind is as big as the universe
But my mind, is discourage
My mind, my mind, holding on to courage
Making my way to uncover
Another path of undiscovered
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
As Stong as the An African Elephant
Yet were are supple and elegant.
We are persuasive talkers so our words are very Eloquent.
Crafted From man's rib and An earthly element is How God made the first Wombman in the old testiment.
During the worlds development
We somehow begun to be irrelevant
Forgetting that we were designed as a help mate who is heaven sent.
We shed Bloods for days sometimes a months without dying.
Raising our children to Be Ladies and gentlemen whom are edifying.
In our wombs a human life we are able carry.
We are informational like a human dictionary.
We store resoureful pieces of data like a library.
Created with brown sugar, warm honey, cocoa and Gold.
Out spirits are Radiently Bold.
Our bodies are temples that can't be bought or sold.
We have a Story that must be hear and told.
We are the beautiful flowers in the month of May That Springs up and blooms in middle of noons day.
We flourish just as the fluorescent blue jay, Whose mood is Joyful and gay.
Our Skin absorbs the sun's Incandescent. Ray.
Some may say, Our hair is ***** but Actually, Our hair just happens to defy gravity
So we wear it upon our head proudly like a Crown
because Living in socitey's prospective of what you should look like will weigh you down.
You will stay stuck on being lost when you already have been found.
Be about your fathers business and know you are Heaven bound.
We are run life's race with meaning and purpose in our pace
Even our walk is embedded with grace
Nature's beauty smiles upon our face
As We Wear God's love like a Pure Gold necklace that's trimmed with lace.
The Strength we've gain
Turned us into warriors from living the through the most Excruciating pain
Thats the Reason we humbly pray as we sing and dance in the middle of the storm's rain.
Our humility will continue to remain.
We are women of Virtue
I wrote this to encourage you
Never let no one break, hurt or discourage you know who you belong to.
And who deserves a Woman of your statue.
For Being black Is Exhilarating
And being a woman is Breathtaking but Being a Black Woman is an Honorary Identity that is Legendary.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
It's called the land of equal opportunity
For who?
If you're hair isn't processed, you're already eliminated
You already failed the test
They think their texture is the best
But don't let that discourage you
Because they don't know how beautiful it is to be...
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 8:13 PM UTC
The darkness of secrets had kept me in shadows
The pain of the past had caused my family to weep
For they experienced life full of unjust woes!
Yet the Heavenly Lord has awakened me from sleep.
I hear the echoes of my forefathers’ voices,
They tell me to rise like the Mighty Sun,
It is time for me to wake and rejoice
On their legacy of what they have done.
The wise wind of fate pushes me to my destiny,
My blood burns with a new determination
As I am resurrected with a new identity
For my forefathers have impacted the entire nation
For many years I thought I was ordinary
Yet the cries of my ancestors beat like a drum-
Telling me to soar like a golden dragon.
In love and hate we have all endured and succumb
I give thanks to the heavenly divine sky
As he has given me a gift of armor made of courage.
“Awake my dear daughter”, the mighty Lord cry,
“Do not let the army of fear make you feel discourage.”
So the wind of destiny has revealed its plan
That I am to inherit their legacy,
Reclaim the throne and be the Princess of Han
For this is my destiny!
(c) 2018 Joanne Chang
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
This is a song to celebrate banks,
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all
you hear is clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills.
Most bankers dwell in marble halls,
Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits
and discourage withdrawals,
And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe
betides the banker who fails to heed it,
Which is you must never lend any money to anybody unless
they don't need it.
I know you, you cautious conservative banks!
If people are worried about their rent it is your duty to deny
them the loan of one nickel, yes, even one copper engraving
of the martyred son of the late Nancy Hanks;
Yes, if they request fifty dollars to pay for a baby you must
look at them like Tarzan looking at an uppity ape in the
jungle,
And tell them what do they think a bank is, anyhow, they had
better go get the money from their wife's aunt or ungle.
But suppose people come in and they have a million and they
want another million to pile on top of it,
Why, you brim with the milk of human kindness and you
urge them to accept every drop of it,
And you lend them the million so then they have two million
and this gives them the idea that they would be better off
with four,
So they already have two million as security so you have no
hesitation in lending them two more,
And all the vice-presidents nod their heads in rhythm,
And the only question asked is do the borrowers want the
money sent or do they want to take it withm.
Because I think they deserve our appreciation and thanks,
the ********* who go around saying that health and happi-
ness are everything and money isn't essential,
Because as soon as they have to borrow some unimportant
money to maintain their health and happiness they starve
to death so they can't go around any more sneering at good
old money, which is nothing short of providential.
4.5k
Another night in Paris,
but different than the ones before.
Left with love to conquer,
the terror knocking on the door.
I hope this won't discourage,
Liberty, where it was born.
For hatred is an energy
not within,
when we are born.
It's harnessed by a twisted way.
A path, that lost souls
sometimes take.
Lambs brought to the slaughter.
Brainwashed, to the point of hate.
Where every single drop of blood,
is washed away
with so called faith.
Yet I pray for all the victims,
not to a God that will dictate
I pray to what's within us all,
The love that is the only way.
A prayer to **** the hatred.
A guiding light
to show the way.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
Do not discourage or discard something
because it hasn't been carried out
in the "traditional" way or sense.
For if it weren't for Prometheus' gift
of the Fire of innovation,
where would we be?
Not as "race"
but as a species?
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
One day someone will be taking care of me
When I'm sick and when I'm hurt
Someday I'll come home to a person
Who washed and folded all my shirts
Maybe in the future he'll make dinner for me too
And know how I'm feeling even if what I say isn't true
I'll work all day and get home so tired and worn
And maybe he will do, and feel, the same
We could just lay on the ground and order a pizza
Eat half of it and pass out where we lay
Wake up at four in the morning, only seeing silhouettes in the night
And hold each others hands as we find our bed without our sight
I'd make him surprise meals, maybe way too soon
And discourage myself as he's out so late that day
He'd come home and I'd tell him what I'd created
Although now its cold/ soggy/ not the same, he'd still kiss me and say,
"Thank you, baby. I'm sorry I was late, did I make you cry?"
And I'd nod and look nonchalant... or at least I'd try.
When we're apart, I'll think of him all throughout my time
Thinking of future gifts and laughing too hard at his past puns
Maybe looking like a lovestruck idiot in public
But he would know, that's just how my mind runs
And seeing each other again, I'd make sure to feel his face too much
He'd let me, since he would love my touch
He'd watch me sleeping ugly, with drool and farts and noise
He'd probably record it to blackmail me later,
Threatening with laughter to show it to all his friends
But little would he know that I could do one greater:
Revealing the albums of candid photos and videos in my phone
And I wouldn't be able to help it, he would just be so cute-prone
We may argue over something silly, something stupid, and I'd refuse to see him at all
Looking away when he walks by and ignoring him when he talks to me
He'd be hurt, and he would tell me that, my icy heart would melt away
And I'd hug him so tight and apologize for being a meanie
He wouldn't say anything, what if he doesn't hug me back?
...what if he never again placed his hands on my back?
What if I ruin everything? If my personality is immature and strong
He'll have had enough of it and he'll gently tell me he's letting me go
I know I'll cry, asking if he still wants to keep the gifts I gave
And my heart will be trembling as I fear he may say no...
Because each moment was a whirlwind of him
I'm afraid I'll ruin my future before it begins...
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 8:59 PM UTC
I know that some of us, well many of else have noticed the tiny hemorrhoid who has been festering around HP for a while now. He pops in, leaves his unkind marks on our skin, causing us to scratch and irritate the area. What I am wondering is how many have noticed his poems (for lack of a better term and in an attempt to be somewhat nice) trending with only 1 like? My friends, they trend because so many people view them…not like them. That is how it works here at times. Views vs. people following you. He has only a few following him (proof drugs are still running rampant) and it only takes a few views to cause his used toilet paper offerings to trend. This, in my opinion is his goal. He spends his time trying to discourage anyone he comes in contact with so that it will cause us to view his vomited works. (Ok, getting a little uglier). He slaps and then runs, waiting to see what we will do to feed his regurgitated ego, and we follow, accepting his bait.
My suggestion is to completely ignore this hemorrhoid, block him, no reading, no leaving ugly remarks on his work…just make him invisible to you and every one else. Let him write his little crayon projects and post them on his own fridge (because I’m sure his mom won’t even put them on hers). Will he eventually go away? Probably not, he is so full of himself; he could not live without himself. But, we can go away…not from the site, but from him.
There are people like this everywhere…people who get joy from hurting others, people who sit there with a pen in one hand and something else in the other. (use you imagination) Ignore this pain; don’t let it get you down. If we all do this then maybe, just maybe he will get the hint…probably not. But maybe the swelling will go down a little.
This is just my opinion and my suggestions.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
The road is long and the days are short.
Life consists of only so many miles.
Enjoy the ride while you still can.
Someday, you’ll run out of gasoline.
Life consists of only so many miles.
Take heed not to speed.
Someday, you’ll run out of gasoline.
Don’t let the rigorous journey discourage you.
Take heed not to speed.
Savor the curiosities that you behold.
Don’t let the rigorous journey discourage you.
Find the beauty in the bumps and turns.
Savor the curiosities that you behold.
Enjoy the ride while you still can.
Find the beauty in the bumps and turns.
The road is long and the days are short.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
1004
There is no Silence in the Earth—so silent
As that endured
Which uttered, would discourage Nature
And haunt the World.
3k
The days have blended into a poetic haze
of mismatched syllables, hanging participles
accented with a hint of discourage.
My purpose use to be therapeutic.
Each rhyme I wrote was a comma in my run-on sentences.
And for awhile, I could breathe. Each breath became less wheezy, uneven and strained.
After I gathered enough air, I dared to speak.
Me? How could I even have the audacity to think!?
To my disbelief, my words didn't fall on deaf ears.
The anxiety, shame, depression and fear woven
into every poem made me familiar in the minds of strangers.
These strangers made me feel human.
With quickness that's comparable to the slickness of a parable
I was ****** from a catapult into the essence of prose.
However, the latency between the beginning of my literary journey
and the discovery of my gift for poetry was afflicting my sensibility.
I succumbed to the bullying from hyperboles
and the taunting of iambic pentameter.
At times I was afraid to talk to neighbors
for fear of narrative structure overhearing.
Now, I am wandering in a fog
though the hills of unpublished work,
echoed only by the crunch of "not good enough" beneath my feet.
This was therapeutic. Now I use it to influence my movements.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
I have a little secret
It’s about the place I work
I’m supposed to be a teacher
But a school’s not where I lurk
I spend my weekdays cooking
Serving people tea
I’m not a chef though, in a classroom’s
Where I’m meant to be.
I think if I fry one more egg
Fill one more sugar ***
Spend one more minute worrying
If the ****** teapot’s hot
I might just lose the will to serve
At least the will to fry
I’m so tired of the ‘thanks so much’
The ‘have a good day’ lie
But please do not misunderstand
I’m not ungrateful for my job
It’s just not what I trained for
Being tied up to a hob
I expected to be in a class
Full of eager faces
Whose imaginations I could take
To so many different places
Instead I’m filling stomachs
Watching people eat and drink
I cook and serve, a faceless drone
So they don’t have to think
I know it’s not forever
This job I’ve grown to hate
One day I’ll take this apron off
Leave the café to its fate
The café will survive I’m sure
In fact I have no doubt
That’s why I don’t feel guilty
That I can’t wait to get out
The café will go on and on
Still serving up its tea
But next time that I see the place
What stranger will serve me?
Will I feel that they are in my place?
That their eggs are not quite right
That their service could be quicker
Their smile a bit more bright
Will I feel that I should tell them
How I once stood in their shoes?
How I thought if I fried one more egg
My sanity I’d lose
I think I’ll save those comments
Until she brings my tea
I won’t want to discourage her
While she’s still serving me
Besides she may enjoy her job
Who am I to wreck it?
Just because I missed the world
Of Austen, Keats and Beckett
She knows just where her future lays
I thought I knew the same
So why do I still keep a secret
Like it’s a source of shame?
I shouldn’t moan about my job
The wolf’s not at the door
It’s only bad days when I think
Just what did I train for?
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 11:06 AM UTC
What breedeth this thy high rage,
My foxy fraulein?
Why not instead bruit me my sin?
And I shall to thee truly apologize
Right here, now, yea tonight!
For morrow's holy light
Must not upon thine hot anger rise.
Discord should we always discourage.
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 2:52 AM UTC
In the chaos of the city, City!
Where the wolven on the prowl,
Hot legs and looking pretty, leather skirt and upturned scowl,
You know it won’t discourage ditty, it only raises lustful howls,
In the chaos of the city, (pause)…a hunter’s stalking you now-ow-ow! (nowel)
In the chaos of the city, City!
Out at night you wanna dance, (day-ance)
To the animals you’re pretty, in those heels with that prance, (pray-ance)
In the chaos of the city, wolves are out to bed you down, (day-oun)
In the chaos of the city, tonight it’s *** out on the town, (tay-oun)
In the chaos of the city! City!
While trailing scent all a-round, (a-ray-ound)
Curvy-body, lookin’ at-cha (pause)… my teeth glistening, open mouth, (may-outh)
They’re not asking for much yeah, won’t be saying baby please,
Wolves you know they’re gonna hunt-cha, strutting past Ole’ factories,
Drivin’ n’ dancing yah, till you’re exhausted on your knees,
In the chaos of the city, City!
Out at night you wanna dance, (day-ance)
To the animals you’re pretty, Pretty!
In your heels they watch you prance, (pray-ance)
In the chaos of the city, City!
Wolves are out to bed you down, (day-oun)
In the chaos of the city, City!
Tonight it’s *** out in the town, (tay-oun)
In the chaos of the city, City!
In the chaos of the city,
In the chaos of the city, City!
Feel his claws up on you now…
Ooh-Ooh, …In the chaos of the city,
In the chaos of the city,
In the chaos of the city,
In the chaos of the city…
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
The sun misses her west when she rises
Thinks about her east when she lays down
on her mountains of pillows
She misses her night time talks with the moon
Her skies long for his full being
He miss being a rounded person
"Sorry Darling,
I'm in my crescent phase"
Stars stir in her sleep
Orbit around her when she can't get out of bed
Indigo glow show reflections of the sky
Blue Valentine
Blue waves become discourage
Question where lovers stand
Wavering on the surface
Dancing when the wind blows
Listen to her stir
The sun
She is tired.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 6:13 AM UTC
There’s always a bustle here
In my ritual place of ribs and beer
The sharp scent of ginger and coriander
The acrid burr in my nose of seared flesh
Fusion food served around me
But I go for Hirata.. again.
Can’t argue with taste, and it tastes
Korean bbq and Buddha beer
A brief nod to the moments of clarity
As said by drunks
The beer bottle cool in my hand as I reflect
Beads of condensation forming on Buddhas belly
And I’m here hoping for Constant
It’s now my third attempt
In as many months to catch a glimpse
And tonight apparently the stars align
Jupiter and Mercury on the rise
As I walk in
There is a way about him
So much bluff and bravado...
reminds me of someone I once loved
There is a mischief in his smile
Something warm in his eyes
Even beyond his jokes of his ego
Too big for the Room, apparently
I don’t discourage..
He’s honest in a way that piques
So here I am
Third time lucky finding Constant
To my delight he recognises me instantly
“Lucky Buddha for the lady?”
His eyes dance..
I interpret, maybe to much
But believe he’s pleased to see me
So we joke..
We laugh
I watch him get an earful
For not concentrating on the flow
The manager in tow..
and he side-eyes me and winks
Inwardly I hi-five myself for
Timing this so perfectly
So here I am
Trying not to watch Constant flow
Trying not to blush as he looks my way
“I’m too old for this **** I think
Then feel like a kid
When he throws a grin my way
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
We would never work. I need stability and security. I need safety. But you, you're inherently unsafe. You seek out chaos and conflict intentionally because you think it's interesting. If you were on the Titanic,you'd be pouring champagne and singing while the ship went down. Everyone would be screaming, getting into lifeboats, and you'd be standing there on deck, with your glass of champagne, laughing, and you'd still find your way off the **** boat without even trying.
Are you familiar with the story , "The Monkey's Paw?" There's this magic monkey's paw, like a rabbit's foot kind of, and it grants any three wishes you want . The problem is, for every wish that comes true , there is a terrible, huge cost. Being with you would be my wish. You're everything I want, and everything I'm not, and you would ruin me. You don't consider consequences, and if we were to end, you would move on to the next experience that seems interesting. But I would never recover. Being with you and losing you would devastate me so much that I can't even consider taking that risk.
You're like a high -risk investment. You could make me extremely wealthy, or I'll end up on the street.
I've never known someone with so much anxiety and so little fear.
Face it, the reason you're into feminism isn't because you want to raise up other women-- it's because you want to be held to the same standard as men. You know you're not just better than most women you meet, but that you are smarter, fiercer and more ambitious than most men, too. You want to be recognized as the best PERSON in the room, not just the best woman.
Do you really want me to try and stop you? You don't , because no matter what I say, you're going to do it. If anything the best way to discourage you is to encourage you, but you'll still do what you want anyway.And if you choose not to do it, it won't be on moral grounds, but just because you want to deny yourself a passion to prove that you can say no to yourself, that you have control, and that's not much better than doing it anyway, isn't it?
You are the strongest woman I've ever met. You hardly ever know what you want, but when you think you want something, you go out and get it. You never hesitate, you ignore your fear, and you don't care about morality. Sometimes though, you feel ashamed of yourself , and hide in your charms. You do it for so long and try so hard that you forget yourself. Don't forget yourself. You seek out people who have the passion and motivation you think you lack, but you have these things more than anyone. And most of all, you are powerful. I can't explain the power that emanates from you, but it's like a force of nature. You can't hide it and you shouldn't. You need chaos and conflict and madness to keep going, because you ARE chaotic, conflicted and mad.You need to stop feeling guilty and afraid of yourself, and be the person you are, not the person you think you should be.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:14 AM UTC
Rachel cuts the strings,
and it's bombs away.
A lost weekend for the books,
with enough fallout
to discourage three generations
of new youth.
Rachel sleeps,
and it's extraordinary toxicity.
A haze of isolation
to balance the height
of her supernal company.
Rachel goes back to prison,
and I continue my journey into the woods.
No light to guide,
no cold hands touching my face,
just yellow eyes and paranoia.
Wilt go the flowers,
cancer grabs the coherence.
Do you love me forever?
Do you love me forever?
Down goes the next bottle,
crawl into the body.
Will your old book make you better?
Will your old book make you better?
I won't be novel long.
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 12:38 AM UTC
The Time For Humanity To Mature Has Not & Would Never Come. Read on - be intrigued.
Now that I believe for a long time after I attained the age of 22 years on 23rd December, 2012.
Many of the spiritual literature pieces are just contradictory to themselves, why would HE let the occurence of any trouble then and hold only the other end of a jittery life helping us cross to the other end safe & fine?
If you would excuse this question saying "HE can never be questioned and HE alone is the destructor & the creator," then it's just a desperate excuse which you hold to considering theism as flawless & unquestionable, me & any similar people as psychos, or perhaps losers.
I don't discourage theism nor do I encourage anybody to share similar thoughts as mine, but I myself don't encourage idling over the concept of the special spiritual unseen power. I agree that some phenomena like love, kindness, greed, lust & hatred can't ever just be scientifically explained in total completeness by just citing some natural laws of nature or physics. But then again why do we often indispensably need that imaginary hand above our heads for protection or more than often have to spend money in praise of the imaginary hand above our heads?
Any mention about theists' escapist nature would be countered by their many statements of the following kind:
o Us theists, we don't escape problems, we just gather courage when we have identified a problem in our lives by remembering the imaginary hand above our heads sheltering us from all troubles and then tackle the problem with enough strength.
o Theism does neither lack anything divinity nor does it lack even anything evil, both of them are manmade concepts, the world was created as a perfect place for the existence of human race.
o Instead of just leaving us all alone in this troublesome world, He has sent few of His men and we can blindly follow them to resolve our own specific troubles with solutions ideated around age-old books written by great men and we don't need anybody to question our faith wherever it is.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
In my black forest I was passing through
To get to where the mountains grew
I came upon a pitiful sight
In the early morning just after night
Dew was still glistening on the ground
When I heard that crashing, growling sound
I knew a great bear was on a rampage
It was a pure white hot outrage
About to turn and go the other way
Blood curdling screams rebounded off the forest decay
And I knew I must go try to save the day
An occupied man had heen writing in his script
And over the baby cub he had tripped
Mother bear heard her baby's cry
And with red molten furry in her eyes
She was ripping that poor man apart
His blood was spraying with every claw mark
In order to get the furious bear away
I knew an incantation that I could say
I didn't want to hurt her it wasn't her fault
The careless man had triggered this assault
“Mother bear of the forest
This attack I can not warrant
Vanish all your angry claws
And your teeth from jaws
But do not discourage, and take heart
For as soon as you depart
You will regain your missing parts”
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC