"unapologetically" poems
i always have
the urge to run.
but what is it like
to be a tree?
to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically
you?
i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
" That's just me "
You’ll hear her say
" I am lesser than beautiful "
I refuse to believe that
I am of worth
What exactly am I?
A courageous soul who is unapologetically herself
Well, the truth is
I look in the mirror to only see
My reflections disappoint
No longer can I say that
My beauty radiates from within
now read from bottom to top
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
*Intimate surprises
spun
from thin air.
Precious metals
forged
to last an eternity.
Unwavering.
Uncompromising.
Unapologetically bold.
Unlike anything else.
The incomparable thrill
of one-of-a-kind.*
/ Alexandra Mor
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
Though the first carried more miles, the second day of the hike was totally and unapologetically uphill.
When you ascend, hiking becomes the zen of endurance.
First, you are stripped of all the pleasures of hiking. Your excitement is boiled into lactic acid. Your love for the trail is baked, hardened and dehydrated into thoughts of laying down in the sun until the heat shrivels you into an unconscious raisin.
Try as you may to put on your “isn’t hiking just a slice of heaven?” face, strangers passing you on the downhill stride can only see your “PLEASE GOD, HELP ME OR ******* **** ME” face.
As much as hiking really is a small slice of heaven, there is no denying the living-death of taking 10 straight miles to the knees under the chaffing hell of a 50 pound sack in the relentless sun.
But when you’re back in an office, sitting on your cushy little ergonomic chair, you long for the sweat and the torture that forces your mind to the ankle deathtraps of mountain terrain. To the deep valley behind and below you, and the crystal basin at the foot of the granite Giants.
The worst thing you can do is ignore the pain—that makes it relentless. Instead you focus on the pain until you become it. The only thing left is the moment between each step, when you remember why you are here and what it is worth. Every time your foot touches dirt, it leaves twice the footprint. One on the mountain and another in your memory where you will safeguard the misery of your ascent and hold on for dear life. One day, when your knees are too weak and your body can no longer table your pack, all the pleasures and joys of the trail that you once thought dissipated in the steam of uphill toil will come rushing back with the magnified strength of every year between you and the present you once knew and respected enough to actually live.
And if you didn’t, if you let it only be pain to get through and not to focus or dwell on, then that is what it is and will always be. A dull memory of pain, dark and somber and incomplete.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
The anguish in this alienating aloneness is alarmingly enlightening
I am aware as the colors of my aura
fade from vibrant to mute
A spiraling sense of self grasps at false promises of hope or help
Each face that shows itself as an ally is simply mirage or ghost
Or wisps of nothingness I probably hallucinated to cope
I am an anchor in a rushing tide
Life floods by with no more than a glance over the shoulder
Some collide from behind urging me to move on, frustrated when I don’t align with their idea of time
I need to be unapologetically ‘not ok’
Imagine my electric shock when I find that’s not an option
The anguish in this alienating aloneness is alarmingly enlightening
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
Oozing charm and fluency, over exuberantly, without vanity or pride or an arrogance of mind
remaining humble and kind
looking just fine
Not with the fittest physic or perfect teeth, manicured hands drenched in gold leaf
Or a sharp suit and tie which underneath emptiness lies
But a beauty that shines bright like a beacon
signalling hardship, success, failure, determination
Strong and truthful
Unapologetically flawed
Lost youth and adult gains
Ageing memories and hunger pains
slight wrinkles, cheeks with dimples
passion,
it's quite simple
perfection is meaningless
It lacks personality and taste
Humility, humour and good grace
The hard times you stared point-blank in the face
However, on the other hand
It's like you're from another land
Im lost
In your perfect imperfections
Filters and airbrush aren't a true reflection
Of the life you've lived of the story you've told
When you've been weak when you've been bold
what made you happy or caused you stress
How you like to chill and rest
Or put your mind and body to the test
I want to see what makes you, you
I long to see it all
For its what makes you beautiful
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
First things first
I'd like to apologise
I'm sorry I'm not the good Indian girl I was bred to be
I'm sorry I don't make round rotis
I'm sorry that the tongue I use to speak punjabi is broken and hides in my mouth unused until desperately needed
I'm sorry that I don't cook and clean efficiently enough to be wifey material
Sorry that I love who I love and don't hate who I was told to
Sorry that I can't follow gods blindly and not try to sneak back stage to see their shining gold adornments and blue body paints and multiple arms in full and bare glory and scandal
I'm sorry that I'm actually not sorry for any of this
I'm sorry that these are false and empty apologies
I am unapologetically whole
A human not just a race
A female not a trust fund or business transaction
I filter out the good parts of the culture I'm from and the ones I identify with
I'll wear docs under my saari no apologies
I'll grind on dancefloors and do the best Bhangra dance you'll ever see unashamedly
Hareems and hoodies
Bindies and pin up eyeliner
Hedonism and head in the clouds
My ambition is Ambedkar untouchable
My drive is a salt march surging silently non violently through cities
My hometown pride is built in concrete and rickshaw dust,
Prejudice and Bollywood lust
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
I have always been weary
of putting names in my poems
in fear that I will never be able to take
my confessions back
but when is a good day to tell you
that I have loved you in every lifetime
In the past we were entangled in each other
One life we were shooting stars
another we laid lazily in fields of wildflowers
a love too strong to explain through words
so we didn’t speak
instead you embodied the beauty of spring
a way to remind us of those April days
when nothing existed outside of each other
We hid our love behind buttercups and daisies
maybe that’s why I love to bring you flowers
to feel the flicker of a spark we shared
in a lifetime so long ago
In another lifetime we read quietly together
over coffee in smoky French cafe’s
we underlined passages
that we would read each other in secret
our love withstanding a time
when it was criminal to look at one another
with the type of love we shared
I don’t know if I have ever loved you loudly
there are no muscle memories
of me shouting your name from rooftops
or unapologetically holding your hand
without fear of repercussions
—even now I don’t know how to form the words
“I love you”
without looking around to see who’s listening
even after all this time I love you in secret
I still can’t put your name in my poems
but i promise in one of our lifetimes
I’ll write your name in every poem
and tell you that I’m in love with you out loud
someday the words
won’t feel stuck in my throat
but I hope that’s in a lifetime sooner than later
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 10:02 AM UTC
Take the pain away
Wash it from your face
Erase the days of questioning your own self worth
Unbutton your shirt
Lower your skirt
Grace the earth with your body
And bare your soul to the world
Be anything but unforgiving of yourself
You are more than your scars for
They are merely affirmations
Of a path well traveled on
And you wear them well
Don't let anyone tell you different
Just be the difference between then and now
Be unapologetically thankful that you are never alone when you're at home with yourself
Shower yourself with love,
Beyond limit,
Because you deserve it
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 3:50 PM UTC
#9 | 31 Poems for August 2016
She unapologetically loves each and every crevice of her canvas.
Each part regally resonates to the woman who birthed her.
Each part elegantly exudes the exuberance of its own beauty.
The curves on her body are more than just her dress or jean size.
More than the heads of men which turn as she walks down the street.
Her curves are her heritage – a beautiful sign of where home is.
Through pain she found love and through love she found herself.
We meet in the pages of our story where the ink intimately holds us together.
These words I write become intertwined in the veins of our loving hearts.
In the rain of her presence, my words will always form a rainbow.
I can never get enough of her love; I’m always left yearning for more.
In a world ravaged by cold wars, we both know what we’re fighting for.
She has never spent a day letting the world turn her starry sky into a ceiling.
She wears her crown proudly and embraces the queen that she is.
The curves on her body are more than just her dress or jean size.
More than the whistles which dissipate the silence as she enters the room.
Her curves are her heritage – a beautiful sign of where home is.
The world is my canvas and I hope this African queen will always be my muse.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 8:52 AM UTC
We lived briefly outside and at once
all of our one lives one innocuous evening.
I think it must’ve been a round ten.
We’d gone, really and already, in every sense,
a-stoop-smoking to clear the air of Murakami
and his personal identity. I guess we knew
we’d end up breathing significantly
before time came to shepherd us back in.
On the stoop, aglow in rosewood smoke,
in the streaked light of our chosen nostalgia
and strawberry hope, we pointed to things
we really saw—everything—pressing their
dimensions sharp through the buttery plaster
of our personal identities, like certain words
I happened to glimpse, in and out of Murakami.
I was startled when a car cut through the viscous
street in front of me like a hand underneath a piece
of cloth. It bent still shadows around a perfect
globule of movement and returned each to rest
only after each of its past moments had passed.
That’s when I saw my smoke trail slowly leave me,
unapologetically, heading across the invisible prairie
on its horses to drink by the bending river in the street.
It asked me if I knew, now, why I should come along.
I pointed and asked: What was that I just saw?
Where?
There by the street. What was that?
Oh, that was just
antlers on a fire truck this past Wednesday.
I don’t understand.
Of course you don’t. You won’t remember I said it.
Then why’d you say it?
To remind you you’ll forget.
Oh, I see. Thank you, then. I was about to
forget I’d forget. Now I know
I never will.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC
A huge kinda toothy smile...
A smile that fills her eyes with light
-a light that shines through everyone around her.
A smile that says,
*"I live my life shamelessly
-unapologetically."*
A smile that says,
*"You can throw anything in my way, but you'll never beat down my
optimistic flare."*
A smile that says,
*"I appreciate all that I have
& do not dwell on what I don't."*
It's that real, honest
kinda genuine smile
that does not conceal her problems...
It conquers them.
A smile that blames no one for its frowns.
A smile that makes us all smile
just thinking about it.
A smile that always stays with me
even now that its gone to a better place...
A more deserving home.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
It takes a certain kind of person
With a certain kind of sickness
To be able to break others
So unapologetically
Congratulations.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:14 AM UTC
i'm humbled being here
and i'm not sure why
i'm visiting
so i'm allowed
right?
so many
the stones seem to go on forever
and i dare not step on one
no
that would be disrespectful
inconsiderate
so i walk around
sometimes hop
if it's last minute
and i find him
here
alone
a grey stone
a military stone
a proud army man
but how proud can you be
after the fact
i clean it up
the stone
brush off the dirt, dried leaves
so i can look
and i look
reading his name
my heart skips a beat
my throat constricts
my stomach hurts
i miss him
my dad
i surely, truly
unapologetically
miss him
but it doesn't really matter, does it
he's not coming back
he's gone
and i'm left here
to figure things out by myself
and it hurts.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
*I'm unapologetically a bit too sensitive
highly attuned to inanimate feelings
the lone Cheerio circling the drain is given
a kindred companion for its journey
considerate thought is given to the preferences
of animal crackers...heads or legs bitten first
many items are thanked before discarded
others parted with reluctantly if ever
a twinge of conscience is felt while pruning
perfectly healthy leaves from house plants
objects are arranged in pairs and groups
in a compassionate effort for inclusion
The Velveteen Rabbit makes perfect sense to me*
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
Magazines, girlfriends, my mother
They always talk about closure
I have found that closure does not exist
Anywhere outside the labyrinth of mind
I have found that the only way
To get over my manipulative ex-boyfriend
Was to walk away without looking back
Was to learn to love myself unapologetically
And not long for anyone to do it for me
I never wanted closure after disclosing my assault
Never wanted an apology to flow
From his water-colored mouth
He was a family member
And I was a child
Cat and mouse
He made me forget that I am worth more
Than where his hands went eleven years back
And where he forced mine to go.
Closure can look like taking your clothes off
In front of a full length, 360 degree mirror
And saying
****
It can be thanking God for the bend in my knee
The curve of my hips
The bulge of my stomach
To thank Him for letting me live this long
After a suicide attempt
After an eating disorder
I should not be alive
But I am
Is that not closure enough?
See, closure is misleading
It is not the end of a stage in your life
But the moment you realize
You don't need anything else
To continue to live.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 5:38 PM UTC
Unapologetically Human
I am **** on the mezzanine
facing the darkened wet road
illuminated with acrid yellow tube light
better reds and blues surround towering palm trees
wooden fingers of ancient giant hands buried below
growing leafy green nails stretching skyward
little things, orange ribbons, endless cricks and dollops
bobbles and winches
Spirits
Play among the windmills
climb to the top of trees and sing into the warm wind songs of *** and heartache
as the universe ruffles along
Dive head first into the opponents forehead
grind the sand into his flesh with ram like resolve until the skin is red,
determine to die
This life is worth proving,
the stars are worth gazing,
and this body is worth bathing in the Maui air with naked delight
The ocean calls to my heart
water is a true lover whispering, kissing
inescapably feminine
I submerge my soul in joyful waves
always the tides follow the moon
like my silly heart, eclipsing
both light both night both day
simultaneously cycling
fully the light shines and our eyes perceive shadow faces in the dark blanketed clouds
the mountain gargoyles stand as titans, forgotten creatures
shoulders and heads, waiting for the moon ball
the ocean moon, tranquil bays
the air is sweeter with you near, a distant thought
cast about the horizon, the sun melting easy golden into my dreamy eye,
bless my drunken lips
dripping doltish songs into the friendly night
Wrestling with bulls of men
we kept our shirts on this time, yet blood was drawn in the sand
we madly danced in the moonlight to clapping hands,
kicking feet and knees
the ceremonial struggle toasting the stars
bottles were shared, some puffed on cigars
Come surf with me in the morning
or anytime the sun shines
even under moonlight would I meet you and we could paddle
come fill your heart with life and lust and romantic passions idyllic as freshly fallen snow undisturbed by worldly concerns
be not abashed for this embrace is a natural wonder of the soul,
join me,
forget what words of yesterday the prophets of doom chant,
we make our own tomorrow
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
When I was younger
I would lie awake
Crying
Praying
The other side of the bed wouldn't be empty
One day
Maybe someday
I never imagined
I had no clue
I only dreamt
Of someone like you
I don't think you know
Despite your joking ego
That you're beautiful
Inside and out
Not a single doubt
You're welcoming and true
You're hardworking and unapologetically you
You're the sweet warm brew
That brightens up my blue
I love the kindness you have
I love the way you laugh
I love being with you in a bath
And the way you make me laugh
I never for a second thought
That such a gift would be brought
Into this sad cold world
But here you our
With every single flaw
You own it
You flaunt it
I love you to pieces and bits!
You're like the snow
I waited so long for you to show
you came along
My heart started to grow
The crystals and cold
The icy white snow
You are a breath of cold wind
Blowing on my face
Making me feel this is my place
My home
My joy
My happiness
Maybe others don't understand
But I know you are one hell of a man!
I love you
Duh!
Dec 8, 2022
Dec 8, 2022 at 6:03 PM UTC
"love is a losing game", but for so long
i never understood that song, until,
i became a piece that you discarded,
left scorned and broken-hearted. it was
unbeknownst to me, but you knew exactly
how to maneuver your poison into my veins
and you made your home in my bones
without requesting my permission, having no intentions
of remaining any longer than your affections,
or your hands, could stand to stay in one place.
i've heard that love, is a losing hand,
and i imagine its partner, dry & cracked -
aching, reaching, grasping, empty -
desperately seeking to be filled with any kind
of warmth or wholeness, only to be met,
instead, by astounding disappointment
that reverberates and permeates unapologetically
beneath the surface of weathered skin,
similar to that which covered your back, as we laid
in the trunk of your station wagon in the mid-december darkness.
love is designed as a fate resigned,
but i knew not what my future held.
i did not know that it was possible, for
such a tangible pain to exist inside my ribcage,
but i swear you pretended not to hear my heart shatter
from all those miles and miles and miles away.
so i envisioned the oceans inside of your irises fading to gray,
and i forced myself to ignore the lack of air in my lungs,
as i spat out, "it's fine." promising myself i'd never call you again.
unbeknownst to you, you'd just taught me how to play the game.
- m.f
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 5:23 PM UTC
I am an overthinker
and overfeeler, over lover, over needer.
I would flood you, or drown your respectable standoffishness.
I don’t get over things, but I get under them well like the weather, I’d love you and you’d soak me through, you couldn’t handle me even if you wanted to.
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 1:14 PM UTC
i radiate light
most of my hours
but that's not to say
i am always okay
day after day
everything changes
you, me, the trees
my mood + their leaves
the sky never hurries
the mountains don't try
the bees and the moss
without judgement
_s u r v i v e_
unapologetically
spinning, the earth
moves along
qualities i hope
we all can
take on
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
#9 | 31 Poems for August
I can never visualise God without the pulchritude that is you.
Nothing compares to the love that you give out to the world.
No matter the train of thought, it all leads to you.
We meet in the pages of our story where the ink holds us together.
As I write, these words become intertwined in the veins of loving hearts.
In the rain of your presence, my words always form a rainbow.
Forever overflowing, God’s love will never run out on you.
Confidence, happiness and love look absolutely good on you.
With such pulchritude, who wouldn’t believe in God?
This is for the women who taught me how to embrace God’s love.
Ever since that day, my demons questioned the value of their existence.
This is for the women who don’t seek the world’s acceptance and validation.
This is for the women of a different status, 31 to be exact.
This is for the women who know the true value of trust, the ones that always have each other’s backs.
To the women who are phenomenal in every single way.
To the women who eat, live, breed, give and sweat love; this is dedicated to you.
This is written for you, and to all the women who are still trying to find themselves this is for you too.
Every woman is phenomenal in every single way.
Every woman should have poetry written about her.
Every woman with a soul like a library deserves a chance to fall in love with a world that loves reading books.
Every woman is God’s resplendent work of art.
Every woman is beautiful.
“There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty.” - Steve Maraboli
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
Forgetting about that uptight blight.
Emanate apathy
Unapologetically.
Cheers to you Baby Jesus,
I'm all jacked up on pink Moscato; by noon.
Without a clue of what to do
Retreat to a beach
For a gala beset by an erubescent sunset.
What marry monarchs,
All clinquant, in gold light
All turn to heathens, in the night.
Perpetually transfixed
By a curious mix of
Rhythmic eruptions & fevered delight
Like fairies & nymphs
Amidst the moon of misbehaving.
Wondering eyes are tantalized
You are luxurious, feral, **** boy personified.
I was mystified by the wild & eroticized by the style.
A Huckleberry Finn identical twin, ohhh but of course
— You had a Porsche.
But we were far from bonafide.
All is well,
Who really gives a **** about a relationship cuff…
I was inherently drawn to the effervescence, of your soul.
Together in disconnected bubbles
Like a glass of champagne,
Sparkling to the surface effortlessly.
Daytime friends and nighttime lovers;
Nympholepts in retrospect,
Carefully tip-toeing around
Blossoming curiously & compromising cantor.
Over winsome side-long looks
The burgundy hardtop drops down
Into my body & out of my mind
Tipsy daze were just foreplay
For the passionate midnight sexcapades.
A midsummer’s night moonlit dream
Manifested midst the trysts of Spring.
Every Sunday
Drinking champagne,
Not practicing self-restraint
Sneaking into private estates
Dive into the grotto pool.
Worshiping the Sun, not the saint.
My late night lover show me your wicked pagan birthright.
Two lonely hearts bonded over confessions in the dark.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
*I used to be so hesitant about expressing
the extent of my feelings towards people.
There have been too many instances where
I value and appreciate and love someone
much more than they ever would reciprocate,
and to them I would seem overwhelming,
reckless, and desperate with the way I felt.
I’ve learned it’s too risky to pretend not to care.
What comes next is too uncertain, too capricious.
In the next 24 hours, I could get hit by a bus,
move to another country, I could disappear.
I am young and we are fragile and mundane
and we never know when the bus is coming.
We don’t know who won’t be here tomorrow
or in two weeks or in two years from now.
All we know is the unadulterated here and now
of our infinitesimal existence on this planet.
I love being straightforward and honest, I love
telling people how much they mean to me,
I say things like “you are one of my favorite
human beings to ever walk this earth of ours”
and “you are a strong, resilient, beautiful sunflower.”
I love hands in hands and heads in laps and
kisses and hugs and cuddles and caresses.
I love saying "I love you and I appreciate you."
I need you to know now, in this moment
that I care for you to the ends of the earth, and
I cannot believe that I have the privilege
of knowing you and your story and simply
having someone like you in my life.
I love being unapologetically Harsh.*
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 1:17 PM UTC