"grounded" poems
Be kind to yourself,
as you are with others
You have these
grand expectations
of yourself
and at times,
those around you
It's good to have goals
and a hunger for
betterment,
but you must also be
vigilant
to keep them realistic
Because, while you are indeed
fierce & strong-willed,
you are also soft
& at times
fragile
You are human.
But that doesn't mean
you are without
superpowers
Your sensitivity is your greatest gift,
but without care,
can also be your greatest
downfall
You must learn to master your craft.
This means to be
patient with yourself
as you would with others,
to show compassion
as you would with others,
to show love,
grace,
& humility,
to yourself
This in practice,
is to truly understand,
& epitomise,
that self-care
is not
selfish
That it is okay to say no,
or to ask for help,
or to be truly
vulnerable
To acknowledge
that fear is
the root cause
of bitterness
& resentment
To embrace the lows,
for making the highs even
sweeter
To let the good wash
over you
the same as
the bad,
& embrace the micro changes,
as the meta
stays the same
To believe you are worthy,
of a great love,
the same as you believe
another's
worthy of
yours
To embody the idiom
that one can
only
truly love another,
after
they learn to love
themself,
& thus allowing
the hard-earned
victory
of grounded, stable
communion
To know the difference between
support
& advice,
love
& lust,
friendships
& partnerships
To have
faith
that you will find your way,
because you will;
because you live your life
with generosity
& authenticity
This is my vision for you,
that you will
make this your reality.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
A vessel for water
hardened soil
ceramic broken
forever spoiled.
But gather with care,
these grounded bits,
and paint upon them
as a soul canvas
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
Different Be vulnerable yet invincible
Individuals and at the same time
Valuing be strong yet weak and
Each other be drunk but sober,
Regardless of staying high but grounded
Skin and stable but chaotic.
Intellect
Talents or Love yourself first and
Years everything else falls
into line and know that
you cannot be comfortable
without your own approval.
It is not about taking that
first step but in making sure
that a first step can
be found.
Know that the pen that
writes your life's story
must be held in your
own hands. Jon York 2013
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
I saw you from across the gym and the second my eyes laid on you I knew I was never going to be the same.
Is it possible to fall in love with a stranger, because I think I just did.
Your posture resembled the self-confidence that filled your *****
Your hair a blonde hue that I have never been attracted to before.
How could it be, you already have a piece of me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, you see.
For you were already starting to seep into me.
Maybe it was the idea that I can feel love like this, for someone I don’t even know.
Or maybe it is that I looked into your blue eyes from across the room and felt like I knew you.
My emotions were wired, and my thoughts gambled.
I had to remind myself how to walk and remember that staring in awe isn’t generally socially acceptable.
I can’t believe I just fell in love with a stranger.
You tossed the basketball with such grace, it sliding off your fingers so effortless. Your shoulders broad and your stamina grounded.
The way you slid across the floor so smoothly chasing after the ball that went perfectly into the net.
When the smile grew on your face as your friend shot the ball, my soul felt warm as I looked into the happiness of yours.
Your teeth, strategically placed by God’s fingers. Resembling how perfect we will all soon be.
I can’t believe this is me.
Falling in love with a stranger, what else is new.
The second I saw you I knew
My confidence was back and I began to come to life again.
So maybe you were an angel sent from God.
Teaching me that I still do have hope.
Showing me that my heart is still in enough pieces to love.
What ever the case and outcome of this, I feel happy.
I feel at peace that maybe, just maybe, someday I will lay eyes on someone and know they will embrace me for the rest of eternity.
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
Its my body, my money, its up to me what I do with it.
But everyone else is wearing it.
I cant help the way I feel.
Blonde
Red
Orange
Brown
Purple
DMs purple with pink laces
school skirt altered in the textile lab 3" shorter
hormones racing, zipping, vibrating, fizzing till the top pops
stairs made for stomping and storming
cackling laughter crackling down the telephone wire
clothes left on the bedroom floor abandoned for a girl crisis.
You cant read my mind
read my lips
read my body
read my journal sandwiched between the midriff covering cottons gran bought for Christmas and the skimpy lace thong I'd be grounded for buying
Mother's mattress sanitary towels tossed aside
for shamefully purchased tampons
instructions included
and time has passed
and masks have fallen
and I find you there in the muck and the mire
and dust you off
until
I see your face - all mothers lipstick and glittering pink eye shadow
and the smile that stores secrets in a treasure chest.
Your legs shake like Bambi's but you get to your feet
and nestle yourself into me warmly, strongly until you fall right into me
and you run and you run and you run and you run and you run
right through my veins
giggles throbbing through my pulse
pajama parties and homemade perfume radiating in my eyes
and there you are
and there I am.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
Why would it be bad
To have cake and also eat it?
Why is that a metaphor of greed?
What else should I do with cake?
It could be a piece of art
Something beautiful to behold
But it’s purpose is to be eaten
It’s cake
Yes, I would like my cake
And to eat it as well
I want to enjoy
The things I enjoy
Not simply to hold them in my hands
Stare at them upon a platter
Wonder what they taste like
I want to eat the cake
It was made for someone to eat
Why not me?
Too much cake
Will make me fat
The sugar and flour
Conspire together to build a gut
It is not healthy to eat cake daily
I cannot keep cake in the house
The temptation is too great
But everything in moderation
A piece of cake here and there
To be had and to be eaten
Is a nice treat
The daily grind of salads and chicken
Nuts and fish
Avocado and eggs and water
Will keep me healthy
Grounded
So when I feel like cake
I can have it
Order cake for dessert
Or to celebrate a birthday
An accomplishment
Or anniversary
No one bats an eye
But order cake for breakfast?
Might just incite a riot
There is a time and place for cake
Society has deemed it so
We are not the rulers of our own lives
(Though we could be)
Instead our culture dictates
The rules of life
Steak for breakfast or for dinner
But not lunch
Bread goes with every meal
Eggs and bacon are for the morning
But at night is a nice treat - on occasion
Beer after five
But it’s five o’clock somewhere
And somewhere
Someone is ready for dessert
So **** it
Let’s eat this cake
That I have procured
You and me, together
Let’s have our cake
And eat it too
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 6:19 AM UTC
From my window,
in corner of an eye,
see a pink flamingo.
Broad curves,
into familiar shape,
grounded legs,
Iron weighted.
Been there
for years,
quietly sitting,
amongst roses.
Pushed by storms,
changing winds,
yet surprising,
inner strength.
Retains balance,
keeps small piece,
staked out,
of much larger plot.
Slowly losing,
it's distinctive hues.
Dissolving,
fuchsia to palest pink.
Every family
has their own,
pale pink flamingo
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
I’m often asked why I don’t like to wear shoes.
My usual reply is that when I am barefoot I feel more grounded.
Now when I say that people take it one of two ways; they either think it is a joke, or they think it has some really profound meaning.
Maybe I don’t like shoes because maybe I never learned my lesson when I would cut the bottoms of my feet on sharp rocks. Maybe I should have realized that shoes are a good idea when I burned my feet on hot pavement not once, but twice.
Maybe it’s because I like the feeling of cold mud in the spring and hot sand in the summer.
Or I just don’t like wearing any god **** shoes.
Maybe the it is way that stepping grass reminds me of home, and stepping in snow also reminds me of home because I grew up in Maine, where 2 ft of snow is just your average wednesday.
Or possibly it’s how I can tell which room of my house I am in by the way the floor feels.
Maybe it’s how when I climb tree’s barefoot I end up with scratches all over me, but being so high reminds me of how hard the climb is but how beautiful the view is once you get there.
Shoe may just be too mainstream for me...
Maybe I want to feel more connected to my ancestors who didn’t wear shoes.
It may be that wish to a tree, that I wish that my bare feet would become roots tying me to the one place where I belong.
It may be that I wish I was a dog because they don’t have to wear shoes.
I might not like feeling confined. Maybe it’s a symbol for how I wish to be free, when I don’t wear shoes it’s a call for help.
Maybe I am brave, putting my feet in danger. Or maybe I am just really frickin stupid, and I am starting to think it’s the latter. Especially when I end up breaking my toes, or cutting my feet, or burning them on the roads because I was too lazy or too dumb to put any shoes on.
Or maybe I am just cracking a joke about bare feet and the ground (and people over analyze the smallest things)...
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
My poems idealize your tongue on my tongue
your breath in mine,
these verses will romanticize how we skipped from street to street
our arms swinging between your left hip and my right
like I did not think about how my parents
never doubled their strength to pull me up above ground as
we walked through parking lots. I
needed to fly and no adult could let me but you.
The sudden hurt, I have not yet dramatized that morning
you returned my voicemail unsuspecting
unknowing my intention to whisper I hate you I hate you I hate you.
Every bone in my body had broken because we could not
levitate any longer: you were not even strong
enough to keep yourself grounded. I make you sound beautiful
I make you sound ugly, but neither is real, just as
how there are no words for the New Year ball dropping.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
You are the practicality that keeps me grounded;
I am the spontaneity that drags you along.
You are the reason to my irrationality;
I am the tumult to your calm.
You are the answer to my questions;
I am the words to your quiet deeds.
You are the engineer I cherish;
I am the bookworm you esteem.
You are the chef I rate as top;
I am the baker you adore.
You are the handyman I can count on;
I am the seamstress you prefer.
They say opposites attract, and it seems that might be true.
Like two pieces from the puzzles we both love,
We fit together seamlessly.
To be cliche, you complete me,
But in ways I never knew weren't whole.
Apr 3, 2011
Apr 3, 2011 at 8:34 PM UTC
i have never been kissed
but my friend told me about hers
she's grounded
because he left a hickey
and i don't even know his name but i know what he tastes like
because she's just so **** happy that she's finally had her first kiss
and another friend was talking about kissing her other friend
she's my friend too, i guess
but they're girls, and i have no problem with that
honestly
but they're not even gay
and they're kissing just for fun
on a dare
and i know that i could never even pay someone to kiss me
because i know what i am
and that is not romantic
i know that i am a monster with a crooked back
and a sad smile
who laughs like a kraken at terrible jokes
and rude towards people
and tries to fit in just a little bit more
and i know that i could never even pay someone to kiss me
because i don't even know the first thing about it
and i don't even know what's happening around me
but i only care about a kiss
and that's really not the best thing for the world
but to me it matters
is it supposed to matter so much?
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
Mother, the Word timeless Hymnals devote
Bore her Best Ribbon in Prayer and Gift
With the Earth her Nature's Theatre denote
Four Years Beyond; She would make her own Lift
I speak of the Fruit all may come to Love,
Branched with Four Maidens and a Knight do Sponsor
And the King, whose Black Gold sprouts well-above,
Branded Pride onto her; And gave her Honour
Well that their Woolen Rope I can't compete
Plus the Ring advised by the Prince of the North
Still, a Grounded Vow I plan to complete
For an Aunt called TRUST; And all that she's Worth.
Grateful much, M'am, for your Good Decision
Despite me Un-Known; The Owl you Rendition.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
i see the words floating on
message boards or perched
upon the lips of jocular hypocrites
double-standards that demand
sensual chastity and virginal sexuality
in endless iterations of irony
the concussive
monosyllabic words
slung like stones
cast like arrows
****
*****
*****
all labels for
women possessed of
the courage to pursue
their own passion
once upon a time a
Nazarene insisted a ********** had
more integrity than a rich
statesman throwing self-serving parties
so tell me why so
many Christian politicians
propagate patriarchal notions of depravity
in blanket attempts to regulate
the bodies of women
if being anti-choice was really
about preventing abortions
why do rich right-wing conservative
Republicans spend all their time
and money picketing free clinics
when the solution lies in comprehensive
****** education universal healthcare
complimentary birth control
and comprehensive child support
don't dare use the reprehensible
rhetoric of pro-life unless you're
at once anti-war
and anti-death penalty
riddle me this
what pray tell is the
difference between a jealous
religious misogynist
and a secular sexist
it's rather simple actually
while the former bases his
slut-shaming on the edicts of
a two thousand year old letter to
the Corinthians inconspicuously
sandwiched between a celebration of
love and a section on speaking in tongues
the latter’s learned behavior is
birthed by a hyper-masculine culture
grounded in dominance
either way we await the day
when wild women raze
these ideologies
with torches before
rising like phoenixes
from the ashes of
decimated passages
dismissed by intellectuals
as archaic and outmoded
deaf blind and dumb to
the vestiges of modernity
that sap unscientific
philosophies of their potency
and render them utterly obsolete
in their wake
these proud women
erase the hate
from words like
****
*****
*****
and reclaim equality
with a far more
comprehensive term
feminist
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
The rat smells the air, squeaks in alarm and runs off.
Black boots come into view. With the sharp tip of a sword.
I crouch in the dark, behind the bins of *******
The boots walk on by. The sword, poking into corners.
All the while, eyes of glowing red, within deep sockets
of a musty old skull, scan for signs.
I look at my hands. The festered and rotting flesh.
My bones showing through. The stench unbearable.
Glad my nose fell off last night.
The timing was off. It was just a little sneeze.
PLOP! Right in my gruel.
Every one at school laughed.
Skeleton Puberty *****
And now, Dad is mad. Just cause I waxed the hearse
and didn't use "Ear Wax". You could hear him rattle
all day. What's wrong with the "Toe Jam Wax"?
Wait till I catch sis. She went and showed mom my
mags. "Raw! Boo To The Bones". I'll bet dad had
mags like these when he was a teenager.
They have good stories. The pics are just a bone-us.
I think it's safe now. I'll just sneak into the house.
Just sit and look innocent.
How did you find me?
A whole trail of pieces? Sheesh!
I know. I'm grounded. Not for the wax job?
The Mags!?.
Skeleton puberty *****
My Halloween offering for Oct. 12th
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
Start slow...
warming... up...and...below
forty five degrees
to the left...right...others go nineties...
some freeze...from locked knees
they don't mind...they'll recover
before the hour is over...
Detach self
from what
surrounds
but...still aware
connected...
agitation
soon to be lessened
eventually....calmed
Focus...
exercise
stabilize
synchronize
visualize
internalize
energize!
Endure!
An ant bites at the back of your ear
something's crawling on your tummy
beads of sweat, drop across your eyes,
or inside your ear...you feel the cold touch within
A bee, a wasp...sometimes, a fly
circles very near your face
makes your wall of
concentration, crumble
tempting you to lose count
of the movements
testing you...
if you might still stray...even
a step away...
if, to your weaknesses
you would still succumb
will you be distracted?
or stay focused?
Let eyes, and mind blink
One...two...three...quickly!
be grounded!
stay on the right track.....
Exercise!
...visualize....
... internalize.....
...never give up!
Sally
Copyright September 21, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
Without grounded words,
Senses have so much to say,
. . . Tongues, fingers flying.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
“We could be gods amongst mortals"
“Why be a god when the earth gave me you?”
His slight whisper
Another’s warmth on my hand
Body sculpted like those of gods
Engraved into my own
He is very humane; -
He is gravity;
Retain me against ascending
Pummel my sins
He is water;
Take away my thirst
Drown me when greed takes over
And I am grounded,
I am thirsty,
Lain earthbound onto the ground at his side
Heart aflame far away from Mount Olympus
I am still only ** human.**
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 8:09 AM UTC
Our world has many distractions,
Many of which I've known.
But here am I in the midst of it all,
writing a poem to whom I don't know.
Most of all I love you,
More than you could know.
And someone out there, near or far,
To you my love does flow.
I cannot help but think of holding hands,
Crazy dancing and smiling glances,
Movie nights and games with friends,
Writing notes of silly romances.
I'll sing you songs,
Some sincere, others silly but true,
Cause I'm just that kind of person,
You'd best be crazy with me too!
I'll try and love your sports,
and support your teams with cheering,
I'll bring you snacks, and cuddle up,
Though on the inside I may be leering!!
I'll make you cookies and huge cakes,
whipped beautifully with cream,
Even with this I'll be so happy,
I may believe myself to dream.
Oh darling, the future feels so far,
Maybe I should embrace today,
but what good is that to me,
When half this heart is out at bay?
They think me strange, and very different,
Just waiting for my prince,
Forever thinking to my tomorrow,
Based on parent's experience.
I'm sorry mother, father,
It does hardly seem fair,
But for you I will continue on this journey,
A life lived with special care.
And they are out there, living today's life,
And while they're grounded there I twirl,
Waiting for you to find in me:
A precious, beautiful pearl
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 7:59 AM UTC
found
grounded bird closed in
ribboned-box and buried
underneath a willow snapped back
to finally relax
to decompose and nourish
by the lake in drooping shade
the felled leaves pile
candy wrappers gray snow in
parking lot corners
with pumpkin spice scented candles
with charred letters skirling up
the arm dropped to sizzle and puff out
white beanies
flannels
leather boots and jangly bronze-leafed wind chimes
I sit on the patio and listen to you speak
the chill of your words
perched like a squirrel barking on a fence top
hibernation preparation and breeze
the gospel of your autumn
it’s lovely.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
Smoke tokes out of the monkey's head, embers embellish empathic light enlightening gypsy nymphs from miles around, a glowing lighthouse haven heaven in nirvana massages lavender bubbles upon pores restoring strength to warriors of the rainbow tribe."
Wind rustles with us...
Stay grounded, you're found before you're even lost. Some get tossed and turned by the sea, but a smooth one never created a skilled pirate with third-eye versatile switch-blade heartbeat ink scribed on blood-vessel maps, following the soul tattoos and taboo time scars along with the azurite lightning stars shooting in our brain.
Time stops sometimes...
*Seasons change DNA re-arranges as we grow goin' with our own flow down the subconscious ocean, sometimes watchin' sunsets into a haze of sweet *** sweat and green cigarette peacetime sufi twirling our conscious to the north star crown chakra.*
Love is. Always.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
she described it as ice
in her chest
like
a lance that tightroped from
her chest to mine
fought over at the breakfast table
because her end was bigger than mine
or mine had more blood than hers
or she always got to look at my good side
and why couldn’t I look at her without laughing
mother always said it was a blessing
that two people were so close to each other
not through birth
but by journey
and life
and happenstance
two people that tasted grilled cheese the same way
that heard the same voices of joy
loss
despair
but always stuck to the roof of the mouth like peanut butter
and not the generic brand
no
the 10 dollar organic stuff
two people that couldn’t help but
crack jokes at the dinner table
when everyone else was talking about
death because
what is death without life?
she would ask
and everyone would go silent
and float up through the
limitless sky
while we stayed grounded in
the life that whiskey brings
sister
if you ever hear me calling
know that I’d give you the bigger half
every time and that
you may borrow my three-hole puncher
without asking
because
I love you
and love stitches time without holes
and moments without the train station goodbye
and the rocks
well
they will always be rippling the stream so you
can go whitewater rafting and I can write poems
about how you fell in and found
a fleck of gold
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 3:56 PM UTC
My eyes fight to shield me from the dark
With my last waking nerve I think of wrong and right
How much I want to be a good person
Why the devil is so fond of using me as a pawn when clearly I am a queen
Or at least I'm trying to be
I can go anywhere I want but not like a knight
For I am not chivalrous enough
The tides of disease will rush in to take you
But I will not move a muscle for I am grounded from moving in the way of an L...
As in Love
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
Don't judge me by my looks
And don't read me by the books
I am brash and I am kind
I am hard to define
I am bold. I am shy
I am grounded, but I fly
I love, and I give
I cradle, I forgive
Though soft I may feel
I am thunder, I am steel
I am smiles and I am laughter
I am happily ever after
I am tears and I am ache
I am a mess when I break
I hold tightly, but I know
When it's time to let go
I am dove, I am hawk
I am the rose and the rock
I am rain. I am sun
I am I. I am woman
Thank you all so much **
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 10:40 AM UTC
They float these pink balloons
Strings hanging down, they
Sway back and forth like
Leaves in the wind.
Weighted down never to reach
Beyond their moment, never to
Fly free, these pink balloons,
Swaying in the wind.
Scuffing across the floor, neither
gravity keeps them grounded, or
These pink balloons never to
Let this hanging moment soar.
I have many pretty balloons, my
Favorate is pink, pink is the colour
Of flesh, a beautiful tone. One
I like to cut and bleed, as they hang
There slowly strangled floating on air.
What will take them, floating along
Scuffing feet plead for the ground,
But I like to pierce the flesh, like a
Balloon life does deflate slowly
Then gone as if never there.
I have many balloons suspended, some
Stagnant still, while others twitch.
Floating just above life, gliding
Closer to death as they hang upon
String neither here or there.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC