"persevered" poems
When I found my voice
suddenly everything had meaning
I found my purpose
thoughts were no longer random
but a systemized way of motioning
dreams into reality
My voice had been lost somewhere
in the dungeon of self-doubt,
had to free myself, had to escape in
pursuit of happiness
along the way,there were battles
encountered and obstacles to
overcome
But my focus was centered on success
not on will-power it wouldn't be enough to face the rough
terrain of disappointment and words that break
I had to master courage from within
while feeling confident fighting off
conflicted ideas of those that looked down
on me with lowered eyes as if i didn't matter
I couldn't settle, I didn't,kept going and growing
I acquired knowledge with each new level
and wisdom wasn't too far,
disapproval from others fueled my persistence
I persevered even when it looked hopeless
It was necessary to forge ahead,
it was mandatory to believe when those close lost faith,
failure was not and still is ,not an option.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:34 AM UTC
I take pride in my roots
I take pride in my melanin
And my ancestors
All those who have persevered
To get me to where I am today.
I take pride en mi pelo rizo
Gracias a Dios..
I carry my culture in my curls to
The poetry that runs through my
Veins
rushing
pulsing
sweat on the furrow of thy lip
beading
ache of the toil in their fieldwork
sweet
azucar negra
my ancestors blood was sweeter
they still don’t want us here
but some things never change
but we are able
and no beautiful ignorant person
Will ever take that away.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
Depersonalization
Derealization
Dissociation
Delusional
Hallucinations
Confabulation
Perseveration
persevered.
Clanging
Rhyming
Echolalia
echolalia.
Paranoia
Ideas of reference
Thought blocking
Internal stimuli
Thought broadcasting
heard
every way
every day.
Mental disorders
or
poets extraordinary
The Paiute anthropologist
locked up on the
inpatient unit
with visions of the ancestors
dancing in his eyes
said
"See these folks
you have locked up,
In ancient days
from the desert hills
they came our way
delivered truths
in their special way.
"Once they had their say
On desert winds
they blew back
up to their hills
away
straight away. "
"Can you please
give me the keys.
I've said what
I had to say. "
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
I buried him somewhere…
When I go to bed at night,
I checked the closet and he’s not there,
I tried under my bed and he’s not there.
Surely he’s dead for I buried him somewhere,
I am a woman now and not a frantic child,
It’s been a long while since I have not visited his grave,
Pray then, why must he appear now?
I tried hard to move on with life,
I persevered to love and accept myself,
I opened my heart to forgive my own,
My being is as wide as the skies.
I found solace in the plateau of my existence,
Why must he visit now?
Truly, I buried him somewhere,
And I swore he’ll never see me again.
He’s there trying to taunt and torture me,
He’s the one who mocks me,
He scoffs me when I search for happiness,
He laughs when I try beating myself.
Nightmares haunt me even at day,
He was the devil himself,
He, a vile and a disgusting man,
Who touched and fondled me in my innocent years.
He violated my freshness to rotten,
And it took me years to pick up the pieces,
Now that I’m almost whole I couldn’t understand,
Why must he resurrect in my dreams?
I am a woman and I still live,
Yet fear still envelopes my being,
I can never forgive and I will never forget,
But surely, I buried him somewhere…
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
all of my exes
like closed pages from a book
emanate some lesson
if that's all i really took
relationships are time well-served
don't regret a single one
but i must insist
i got used to this
and i'm glad that they are all done
all done, but one
but that's how it works
no more turning another page
and in marriage we're stuck
until one of us dies from old age
if love is a test
then we've artfully persevered
so no going back to an ex
or moving onto the next
since my exes were really all kind of weird
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
Dostoyevsky said, “your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”
I've felt rage seething in my chest for as long as I can remember. I've felt as his talons ripped open my sternum, digging for a place to call home. this rage has nestled deep into my ribcage, devouring my will to survive while carelessly residing within my nightmares.
I've surrendered to this forsaken depression fury has vacated deep in the confines of my irises - despite witnessing myself across grey-tinted glasses; a smoldering storm rippling miasma throughout my body, manipulating my hands into a devout pyromaniac; suffocating every chance to heal.
I've known nothing but bitterness congesting my heart. My dreams were burdened dreadfully with the stench of wrath. it mutilated my arms; burrowing into capillaries, and asphyxiating my habit to vanish.
This incessant sin I've endured has brought me to my knees, existing only to ***** out my ability to be a mortal in an unforgiving universe. I am not a cosmic metaphor, the iron residing underneath my skin has become impenetrable.
I am adorned with stillness while this betrayal has bloomed into a supernova. the things in which I lack have ignited into an endlessly violent explosion -
Atomizing my bones, swirling stardust into a forlorn emptiness.
A world that was held by the unfaltering resistance I persevered against, it has ravaged my memories, my moribund existence trembled; shivering from the growl of the recoil - the remnants of creation kissed abysmal lips within the faraway distance of a boundless abyss, raining tears for the last time as the destruction leaves a life void of meaning.
The last words ever heard in this universe spoke softly as if to lull the existential bereft into a long hiatus -
"This was all for nothing, just as destitute as this vacant nothingness, human life is ill-fated to be star-crossed and powerless."
Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 6:51 PM UTC
God, if you only knew the things these eyes have seen. I feel as if I’m the only one to have felt this heaviness in my soul. It breaks me down. I’m scavenging for survival. For hope, for humanity. I wait patiently in the dark hoping to watch as the light breaks through this darkness I live in. Will the sun rise? Will the moon give in to its brutal blows? Or will I be left again, left wondering where I’m meant to travel to next. I watched my family torn from the places once called sacred. The treasures they held once before meant nothing, their lives were the only treasure they had left. The only treasure I had left. Some tore their way out of that hell. The mental affliction that caused them to drown in their own murderous screams. They moved on with their quest for a purpose, ripping away the flaws and scars left by the pain experienced. Becoming something new, remade. Still beautiful, they didn’t break. They persevered. I watched as others tied the fear and pain to their ankles, always dragging it with them. Others would notice the chains they pulled, but never say a word. Never reach out a hand to search for the key to these aches. Just watching them survive, I watch them survive. I survive. But the worst of all to watch was The Interpreter. The ones who fell for the lies that got them with me in this black hole. The ones who never coped, never wanted a purpose, they wanted revenge. Revenge on the ones who tore their soul apart, piece by piece. The ones who took every bit of sanity they had and laughed as it fell unreachable by any man. I watched as something once so beautiful, miraculous, pure and true turn into something that made me want to cringe. So hungry. Always remembering the starvation they suffered from and using it as a crutch and weapon to fill the hole that cannot be filled by things as such. I try to help but they snarl in defense, forgetting that once I was their friend. Only thinking of the world as an enemy, and everyone in it an enemy as well. I try to stop them, plead for them to stay, just to here a few words. Just to know that they aren’t alone, I’m here in the darkness too.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
Phone calls were made, meetings were held and the new group was set to get started
There was lots to be learned and so little time for the lessons to all be imparted
The plan was immense, it was larger this time and the time was going by fast
They would all act as one, getting everything done and their goal was to not finish last
It was done every year, in the schools through the town, it was something the kids all enjoyed
But this year was tough, with all the closings and stuff and the fact there was more unemployed
Each school was set up to blitz through the town and to collect all the food that they can
But with more on the list and those who would surely be missed were the ones who set last years plan
Team leaders were picked in each group at the school, and their job was to get this all done
And to beat last years tote by at least one more pound and to make sure that it was all fun
Pep rally's were held to get the students involved and help motivate those involved
But with more needing help and less firms out to help, they had problems they had to get solved
On December the first, the kids all set out ringing bells in the malls and the stores
From there they would go with buses and trucks and collect food by knocking on doors
The school who did best bringing in the most pounds would be win a cup and awards
But to all those concerned, they had to get out and blanket the town in great hoards
People backed out from tasks all assigned, It was cold and they had too much to do
There was homework as well, and jobs on the side and alot wouldn't see the task through
But they all persevered and the food all came in, cans and boxes and crates and in bags
There was food left at school from donators unknown, just good wishes all written on tags
The goal was to raise an amount more than last and to do it in twenty two days
The total to date was behind just a bit but there was still time to make this year pay
So with one last great push the students went out and they held one last drive at the mall
If they collect one more ton, then all would be done and they could all know they answered the call
On Christmas Eve morn the principals met and they said they had all reached their goals
They shook all their hands and they stuck out their chests for they knew that they'd fulfilled their roles
The students were told at assemblies too, and the food was dropped off through the town
They had beat last years numbers by about fifty pounds even though they all thought they'd be down
So for all those they helped for the one day that month, where they had Christmas dinner and laughter
Was brought back to earth by one voice in one school, who asked "What would these families eat the day after?"
.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
You guys have been together,
For 35 years,
So much has changed,
With lots of Laughter and tears.
You guys have struggled,
You guys have persevered,
As your children,
We had this growing fear.
That we could never satisfy,
That our goals were unclear,
But you guys guided us through,
As our role models through all these years.
And now another milestone,
35 years in the making,
Of love and happiness,
And we are here celebrating.
All apart,
But yet together in your hearts,
Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!
-Tj, Inday, Toto, Nene
—Thomas James Written on December 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 11:17 PM UTC
680
Each Life Converges to some Centre—
Expressed—or still—
Exists in every Human Nature
A Goal—
Embodied scarcely to itself—it may be—
Too fair
For Credibility’s presumption
To mar—
Adored with caution—as a Brittle Heaven—
To reach
Were hopeless, as the Rainbow’s Raiment
To touch—
Yet persevered toward—sure—for the Distance—
How high—
Unto the Saint’s slow diligence—
The Sky—
Ungained—it may be—by a Life’s low Venture—
But then—
Eternity enable the endeavoring
Again.
2.1k
Alexander K Opicho
(eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
in my state of being a deadly *** rapscallion
i knew not why there are ******* on a woman
i had often rushed down to the south
seeking for selfish sensation in wanton of her
a woman whose freedom i devoured
she persevered solemnly without my know
let me accede to my audience with all honesty
the ******* of a woman is a treasure of nature
a beacon of creation for peaceful humanity
touch them fondly with a pinch of compassion
be patient with them for they were your first food
****** them patiently they are amber of fire
sing to them a poem in sweet love of them
they will stand ***** pointing at the sun
breaking eyes of your beautiful love
as her heart unto you soft is gone
you must treasure the ******* of a woman
with your warm volley of kisses
more than you scamper for her fine thighs
for the power in the thighs comes from
the warmth in the glorified *******
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
He sat hunched in the chair,
A slightly shrunken version
Of the robust man I had known,
The Coach, the Teacher, the Mentor
Of my youth.
The man I came to Revere nearly as
much as my own father.
That hero of the war with the Axes Powers,
That mostly soft spoken man of tolerance
And patients that could command respect
And obedience with but a single look.
That leader I would have battered down
Walls with only my head if he had asked me to.
That man that gave me a sense of self-respect,
Taught me strong Life Lessons that I still
carry to this day. That I have passed on to my
own Son and Grandsons. This man that taught me
That I could do anything I sat my mind to do,
if only I persevered, if only I did not give up.
That just to try is to win.
That a Team is always stronger that a man alone.
That fellowship lights the darkness,
That pride is more than just a word.
That the axiom of “It’s not if you win or lose,
It’s how you play the game.” Is not merely
Some bit of rhetoric thought up to console
Losers, rather a phrase that is meant to convey
A message of a morally correct perception and
Human understanding of life itself.
He sat there frail, looking a little confused,
Yet the man, the Coach was still there in his eyes.
He weakly, yet firmly took my hand, not in just a
Greeting “Shake” but rather in an embrace of
Old Comrades and I told him in a few choked up
words what he had given me, of my affection for
him and we both fought back tears of the emotion
that comes from a knowledge older men understand
will be the last contact they will ever share.
I forced myself to be brief rather than fall apart,
To perhaps embarrass us both.
I wanted to embrace him, but did not, fearing,
No, knowing that I would certainly fall apart.
I shook his Grandsons hand and told that fine young
Man that he had a great man sitting next to him there,
But then I’m sure he already knew that.
My life is but one of thousands of young men
And women’s lives that were touched and inspired
By the “Coach”. That was his profession, his
“Calling” and he did it splendidly.
What I owe that man, I can never repay.
Thank you Don Brown, my dear friend just thank you.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
Why
Would they become separate?
Almost 17 years
Was supposedly enough
They persevered
And fought
For their love
And gave up
They say there is stuff I do not know
They must be right
Because I do not understand
And I am left here wondering.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
How can I
Mere mortal man
Write verse and rhyme of Venus?
For She is Herself
Poetry
These black days
These barren days
That turn my soul to ash
And char the fibers of my soul
And all because I must be away from Her
I am drained
In the absence of my Venus
I am pained
By the space now forced between us
But I will overcome the fractures
Not bested by this distance
For always has She been
Just beyond
The morning
The horizon
The road
The hallway
Yet through these barriers
I have persevered
I have roared at the enemies that keep me from Her
I will not rest
No
I will not be satisfied
No
I will wager my everything on Her
Yes
For Venus
My all
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 4:35 PM UTC
I want to tell you about love. What it does to you. How it feels when you’re “in” it. What it’s like to lose it, and what it’s like to have it and not be able to show it, or have it but not be able to share it, because it’s not reciprocated.
Love is a strange thing. It’s probably the only thing that’s very obviously real that we have to question the existence of. It’s the only thing that is answered with “I was, but maybe I wasn’t” when asked “have you been in it?”. It’s compiled of essentially every emotion, it’s horrible, but, somehow beautiful. Anger, jealousy, grief, loss, loneliness are to name a few of the negatives of it. But when it’s returned, happiness, joy, ecstasy, and positivity are what is felt.
Love turns you into a ball of unorganized unexplainable emotions, characterized by a feeling of uncertainty and great need. Love yearns to be reciprocated, that’s all it asks for. Do we all ask for it? Probably not considering some of us throw it away like it doesn’t even exist. But we need it to be reciprocated, maybe not the first time, maybe not the second time, who knows you might feel the truest love you’ve ever felt in your life and you won’t get it back at the twentieth time. Love is cruel like that, kind of a joker of some sorts, and yeah, maybe it’s a ***** for that like our old friend karma, but at least karma is always sent back, what comes around doesn’t always go around in love, and when it doesn’t come back around, it can eat away at your heart like an infection that refuses to go away.
Sometimes, we lose love, we had it and it was amazing, but we lose it, and it’s terrible. It makes you wish you could blow away with the wind, in fact it feels like you are. You feel like you’re hollow inside, as if even the gentle breeze will blow you away. Cold, like your heart has stopped pumping and your body has no choice but to share the temperature of the air around you – cold blooded. Nothing is worth it anymore, and honestly, you feel so dead inside that you choose that to do nothing is better than to do something – nihilistic almost.
But tis better to have loved and lost, than to have never have loved at all, right? To have a deep yearning inside of you that can never be returned by the one you love, that is true torture. You can beat me, you can hold me down, you can leave me to rot in the darkness, but leave me in love and alone, and that is true horror. A sadness that can’t be fixed, and hole that cannot be filled, to be in love and have no one to share it with is what true sadness is compiled of.
Why even love, it’s horrible, disheartening, depressing, saddening, and just plain bad. **** love it’s pretty much the bane of humanity and the end all of happiness. We should all just give up
But no, don’t give up, whatever you do don’t let go, love is beautiful. It’s bad when we lose it, of course it is; losing anything good is bad. Love is difficult, but it makes it special, and when you finally climb your mountain I promise you, you will be happy, you will feel fulfilled and you will never regret having persevered for your happy ending. Go out, don’t give up, find your love and get it, I believe in you, you deserve your happiness, now go get it.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
Everything is the same
I can't escape
No fighting will
Is going to save me
Tears may fall
Only my shirt
Is there to soak
They drown me
Filling my clothes
Living in my lungs
No sound comes
From my screaming mouth
Imprisoned in my own
Home isn't tangible
Six summers
Separate us
Still I'm longing
For your return
You were my fort
My unmoving rock
But she crumbled
And you moved
Against your power
She stole our promise
I hold your heart
I carry it in mine
But it gets heavy
Please, show me
Save me, return
Everything would be ok
I tell my self everyday
But is that what this is
A cry for you?
A plea for Anything
To release me from pain
Or a wish?
A desire to live
Not here, but there
With you
In the sky
The moments pass
But not with ease
A brawl of strength
I've persevered though
Maybe I haven't wanted to
I'm called to by
Undying love
For your daughter and sons
I've lived too long
For someone else
It's time I live
For me, but can't grasp how
To breathe air in
And not wish it gone
Unable to understand
My purpose
Be my guide
Shine your line
I need your direction
In order to survive.
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 10:14 PM UTC
I was born in California
and raised in Arizona
yet neither one of those places are home to me
Milwaukee, Wisconsin is my home
Milwaukee is where I took my first real breath
after coming to terms that I was now a person
living with a mental illness
Milwaukee is where I took my first steps as an adult
Milwaukee is where I found my love for writing
on the floor of my walk in closet
on South 28th street
Milwaukee is where I fell in love for the first time
lost my virginity and got my heart smashed to pieces
and even though I was hurting
I never gave up on the belief in love
Milwaukee is where I smoked my first cigarette
Milwaukee is where I bought my first Mayday Parade
album after cutting the **** out of my legs
in my father's basement
Milwaukee is where I met snow for the first time
at age two and 23 years later I swear
I can remember the feeling I had
when I touched it
Milwaukee is where I discovered my favorite coffee flavor
at the Starbucks on Howell Avenue
Milwaukee was where I dyed my hair black
and began my journey to finding out who I was
as a person
Milwaukee is my battlefield
in which I fought demons I never thought
I would have to fight
It's where I tasted betrayal, abuse, anger, depression
and anxiety for the first time
It's also where I contemplated suicide
and almost went through with it
I've endured hell in Milwaukee
but it's where I persevered
It's where I got tough
It's where my broken heart healed
It's where I looked my demons straight in the face
and yelled "TRY ME *****
Milwaukee is where I grew as a person
in ways I never thought I could
Milwaukee is more than a city most people pass through
on their journey to somewhere else
Milwaukee is a part of my soul
that I am far from ashamed of
My birth certificate may say I am from California
but Milwaukee, Wisconsin is where I'm really from
Its my home
and no one can tell me differently
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 1:02 PM UTC
Passed up many opportunities
Looking for the right thing
Found myself under the load
Trying to fight my way back up again
I stepped up on what was holding me down
One thousand steps I made
Discouragement was one step
After that
Each step got harder
Self doubt came into play
I thought I could was overshadowed
By you can't
Stop while your ahead
The closer I got to the top
My body began to weaken
I paused for a minute
Then continued
It seemed I had reached the top
It was hard
Because my legs were shot
What I saw amazed me
Just steps
And more steps in front of me
Believe it or not
I didn't give up
I persevered
Until I was no longer on the bottom
But rising like the sun
Hot and untouchable
Bright and overwhelming
Unstoppable
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
Like all others, I hated high school.
It was a scrawny waif that I remember seated at the front of the class.
I raised my hand at every question to endless ridicule,
and people whispered I was weak for trying to be "such a ********
Now people think I lack brains because I own a barbell and bench.
What they don't know is that it's all an extension of my first love: Science.
Every morning, I don my hooded polyester lab coat.
I write theorems in drops of sweat on a rubber padded mat.
I experiment with the practicality of the theorems I wrote;
I know my hypothesis is correct when veins bulge and muscles catch.
Breathing shallow, in ragged determined gasps of air,
I put my theory to the test. Veins bulge, muscles strain.
There is no joy like the joy I know when I find my theory correct. I call it
The Warrior Poet Principle: One can in fact have brawn as well as brain.
I've accomplished the task I set myself in high school's lonely halls,
I vowed that I'd never be that weak waif again.
Hiding bruises from pimple faced tyrants who had me by my *****
I persevered, and I grew my thews and thesis in twain.
Now by neither tyrant nor textbook will I ever be chained.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
He reminds me of a mandarin orange,
easy to hold and easy to peel
with a slightly rough yet firm exterior;
sensitive to the cold.
His character is that of the sweet flesh
like his gentle words and actions;
with sour tangs that emerge on rare occasions
like a nudge of loneliness from being homesick.
But his mind and soul are the little seeds buried
deep within the depths of his eyes and his heart:
he stays rooted despite in drought; persevered
and grown to enjoy the fruit of his labor.
There is something about the mandarin and its layers
which bring me much more than luck,
love, and even life.
All of it—he—brings me home.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 6:47 AM UTC
I stumbled into the train station, buzzed with integrity.
Apprehension strikes like a clock at midnight.
My math teacher never liked my hair. I never liked her husband.
I can still feel you in my presence, shining on me like the sun, even on my darkest days.
My childhood was a sad one, filled with corn harvests and bails of hay for food. Oh, cruel classmates.
Your smile burns me as if I were swimming in boiling water.
I never met my mother but I knew from experience that she hated pineapple and the scent of my hair.
We sit next to each other in class, but we know we want more. To feel as free as two birds in the sky.
My ex-boyfriend's husband told me I was too short to be a dancer but I persevered and became an employee at Subway.
Engulf me in your arms, like fire consumes a building.
My father's rabbit chewed a hole in my cardigan and I angrily cried daily for a day.
Take my hand tonight, we could run so far.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
even if these thoughts
are Compromised,
does it matter?
they feel real
just like they could
win the War
and change everything
as we know it
The Head of Radio
has died.
Video Queen
has taken over
the Transmissions
but our brainwaves
remain saved
for now
The Truth,
persevered in tar
far from the nearest star
dormant for centuries
until
it's revived with
the latest specific scientific
invention
intent
on saving the world
The Truth
it swirled and twirled inside
you hurled at the thought
the Compromised thought,
that you're alone
patrol the outskirts
of your mind
Not knowing what you'll find
but making sure all is checked
before you go for Checkmate
But it's too late
This game has gone on too long
and it has become a Stalemate
neither win nor lose
but Ego is bruise
causing the compromising
thoughts to be born
begot upon itself
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 4:39 AM UTC