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Lost Girl Nov 2018
I am a warrior.
Stronger than her demons.
Braver than the darkness.
Joie Yin Aug 2018
Be not afraid
Of what makes
You quiver.

Stand brave
Fight back makes
You a warrior.
Joie Yin
Winter Child Aug 20
In case no one gets it,
i collect my excerpts
than i spell my prayer.
Spills my personal feelings
and trouble,
longer than i bow
on my knees.

i memorize every shame
and quote it
in a piece of paper,
the same stroke
they did to break
my bones.
Marks down
every of their tone
when i got yelled at,
being degraded.

In case no one gets it,
i use my fingertips to fight.
Being sure of my words,
but never myself.

They can take off my guts,
break down my sanity
into pieces of insecurity.
Yet i’m here to remain bold
until the last spill of ink,
and my pen
can no longer stand.
the battle is in my head
ELK Jul 2018
I stand alone, the ghosts of my parents lingering
in my heart
Remembering the death
the change
the upheaval of life how it was
The remains of my soul splinter
and crack
As I remember the terrible deeds that a
desperate girl committed.
I, that girl, remember humanity as
it was;
But the fear and pain overcome and all reason
Forged into iron and steel that
bleeds tears
"It hurts so much," I whispered
"I just want to be whole and normal."
I'd do anything to fix myself
Even if it meant destroying my
I found I was afraid to leave this
For in all of its horror and evil
Beauty still existed amidst the pain
And I wanted to live
and laugh
and feel
I wanted to experience
and love
and dream
But it was all ripped away that
fateful night
Lost and destroyed, out of
But then a gentle woman appeared
And smiled at me with kind eyes
With the touch of a hand I
was set free
Finally able to just be me
I started to cry from the absence
of pain
And I knew the world for me
would change
A chance to live a life once more
No thought to what came
I was able to touch
and dance
and fly
and sing
and touch the sky
I'll start again and my story I'll tell
And proudly wear the scars I earned

-Esther L. Krenzin-
(For Ghost, the misunderstood "villain" in Antman and Wasp)
RBWhite Aug 2018
Will I make you see?
Will you belong to me?
Rest in my embrace,
Feel my need for change,
And I'll be your only place...
Where you'll rest in sleep,
When you come to me,
I'll be whatever you need,
I'll be the fall, catching you from the depths of despair,It won't matter, for whatever it takes,
I'll be there,
I'll be the sadness,the kiss in your tears, mending every fear,
Is my promise to make,
I'll be there,
In the light and the dark,
The warrior of your love, creating truth with my sword,
And I swear, you'll be okay,
Because I'll be there.
Originally written to be a song...
Erin Suurkoivu Oct 2016

Pink doesn’t play into it, that delicate
petal of perfume & flower stuff.
She abhors it.

Red suits her better.
Red for Fridays & red for Aries.
Red for the blood her dagger could draw.

Her seal of wax is no
rosebud adhered to
fine paper.

Warrior, she escaped its letter.
With Roman candles & Roman sandals,
sword, wand & chariot,

defender of her Eden.
Seashells are her votive gifts, the
stars of her Atlantic.

It is within her reign of Camelot.
At the edge of the Earth,
her kingdom dreams.


Blue maid
a curious ***** in her armour.
But she wouldn’t flinch

if an army of soldiers came crashing in.
They are hunting the witch.
A woman can never have such power.

It is reserved for the patriarchy
to wield at will.
Up it goes.

They can ***** steeples with it.
They are stoking the fires & sharpening
the axe with it.

But threats of torture
don’t make her beg, plead or recant.
She is guilty of nothing.

Even broken on the Catherine Wheel,
Athena still keeps her
bow & quiver intact.
A poem inspired by my friend, Hayley J. Available in my poetry collection, "Witch", available on Amazon and Lulu.
While I run on bare-footed
With the open sky of stars above me
And the heart of a warrior rising
The roar of a woman who defies the shadow of a man
Allah knows.
Allah knows and I trust
That the man who will complement my dreams
Who will let my fire rage higher
And my dreams' thrashing loneliness
Diminish along the breeze like it was never there.
Who will let my fractured identity bleed into his
As if hearth and fire were
Ice on mountains
Who will bind me to the earth
While my soul ravages its void-filled cries
And long for the heavens above to
Release me of the prisons of this temporary being
Allah knows
That man will come
And will do nothing but bring me
Closer to Him.
We wake the earth with our souls that will not be contained.
Idk man just watched a movie where a woman in a saree kills an advancing murderer with a knife in one hand (self-defense), and shields a baby with the other. Now THAT is a warrior.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 25
“I am a warrior, so that my son may be a merchant, so that his son may be a poet.”

John Quincy Adams, 6th President of the United States
a bad weakness, mine, mess with the perfect of others,
unsure what to add that will addictive illuminate further,
but as homage, a tribute, a salute
got to
got too,
no middle class delayed gratification for me, none, whatsoever,
read the words and my own hands choke me
as if to pull out, to free
the upsurging words in my chest-forming,
to uplift me up, from the floor where I am roiling in
wonderful wonderment at a prophecy come true

my recent family history,
about 400 years worth, got it written down someplace,
escapees from a Spanish Inquisition,
a Roman one before that,
meandering Jews who found a respite, a small welcome
in a small village in Germany

(the irony does not go unnoticed)

from villager to merchant, from tiny town to big city folk,
we went, warriors if any, kept secret, best unheard,
attract no attention, but do what survival doesn’t
always politely request

here I am child of the proverbial wandering jew,
fancy me a poet with, at best, a very small p,
one of three children, historians, book writers, scholars and even
and so a President’s words, hammer my cells
upon an anvil for human skins,
the future shape of me foreseen
and I think to myself,
alone and out loud:

This, This!

is what makes America great, 
welcoming the stranger,
even predicting their
possible pathway to a peaceful existence,
giving their descendant’s generations liberty,
liberty to become poets,
free, who can stand upright
s y k Mar 2014
Just when I thought I had it all
perfectly encased,
clutter free,
the loose string of my life came undone
leaving a dome of rubble at my feet.
Nevermore saw it coming,
nevertheless expected it.
Never asking why,
I accepted it.

I won't yield in self-pity
nor wither in pain.
Dusting the ashes,
getting back in the game.
I won't let your fire catch me.
I won't be burned alive.

I am a warrior
and I will survive.
Dear cancer, I won't let you **** me.
RBWhite Aug 2018
We could let that sail ship,
Away from present and future,
To the ends of doom,
And into every beginning my life would end,
Yours will always remain,
My lovely soul, search for me,
As I will for you,
It's just one forever of many,
Become a temple where my mind sleeps,
As you know,the knowledge of you I value greatly,
No goodbyes, but it still hurts,
Let me miss you,let me cry,
My lovely soul, I'll die forever,for the memory of you is a blessing,
The wounds in my flesh and bones are fatal,
A feather could worsen my state,
Don't you care about them,
An angered warrior is what I am,
Violence is a law, impossible not to accomplish,
And when I get what I give,is natural,
As the heavy breathing leaving my weak lungs,
Don't you ever mind about someone that takes souls for freedom,
But have present that I will protect you,
Lying,deceiving and bleeding is a pleasure,
When it comes to you, my lovely soul,
I hear your cries and tears blend with blood,
I said what you have to do,
But you don't listen,
**** me then,with tears and mourning words,
All those arrows and sword wounds are useless,
For the power of your love under me,will end my life,
The power of your faith for me,
How many times have I asked you why you feel for me?
And why you say "A saviour is what I am
Peace is the law, to take and give life is what I do,
Love, Passion and Faith is all I know
My lovely warrior, leave your soul with me,for I'll forever take care of who you are"
A hero of many is not what you are,
I've arrived to my home,to the end,
End I wanted for so many suns and moons,
We could let us be together,
Over lifetimes,
Over seas and sands,
Over storms and tranquil clouds,
Over war and love,
In your name,I rest.
Noah Oct 2018
He was the warrior king.
He was known for being strong.
He was Mogar.

Shallow breaths passed through his lips.
Hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

Arms wrapped tightly around him.
Knees pulled close to his chest.

He tried to hold himself together.

How did he get here?

Unable to laugh or smile.
Unmotivated and unfocused.
Unable to sleep or eat.

An empty shell.

Devoid of all emotion but one:


He was ashamed.
Ashamed he couldn't push through.
Ashamed he wasn’t strong enough.
Ashamed that he was broken

He was the warrior king.
Ivan Brooks Sr Jan 2018
I'm a black man , I'm the essence of toughness
My roots are deep like the mighty baobab tree
Once a chained slave, today I stand in greatness
I'm a black man , I'm a proud man and I'm free .

I'm a black man , once the master's possession
I have scars stamped to my soul but I'm free
Once a cotton picker , I now have a profession
I'm a black man , a very proud man and I'm here.

I m a black man , the first born of mama Ebone
The black Goddess , the true mother of humanity
Once upon a time in jubaru, I sat upon a throne
Where my queens and warriors all lived in unity.

I'm a black man, I will always be the best runner
Shoot me if you will but my black soul fears no guns
Once like Garvey, today like Usine and Obama , I'm a winner
I'm a free black man and my soul hosts a thousand suns .
If Heaven is pure and white , just like Obama added some Blackness to the White House , me and my black soul will be in Heaven too !
Medusa Jan 19
She’s a Super Hero in a pink cape
But her rages are real and I must
Take her tiny form quivering
In fury

As righteous as any giant
Striding the planet, feelings
Often more enormous
Shaped as children
Astraea Mar 7
the blood that has been shed
is confirmation
the battle was fought

as the blood leaves my body
I am reminded of
your presence

of when you were once a vital
part of me

the very extension of my heart,
the same that keeps me alive
and you

a pinnacle,
an abundance
of growing love

now empty

yet filled with
Luna Jun 3
You feel these old feelings and memories crawling back at you again, scratching your skin, touching your consciousness with its burning fingers.
You put your walls up higher than ever before, you fight them with all your strength, but no matter how hard you try you keep hearing them scream.
They beat against the walls, slowly breaking them down while you constantly keep building new ones. But you're so tired of fighting, you're so tired of holding on.
Sometimes all you want is to close your eyes and let them wash everything you reached and survived away. Forgiveness is a stranger to you, and so are you too.
Hidden from everyone else behind this huge walls you barely know yourself. And you keep wondering: is it all worth it? Am i worth it?
What if i get too tired, what if they'll become stronger than me? Slowly you close your eyes. All you do now is listening to their screaming voices. All you feel is them ripping down the skin of your body.
You take a look at yourself. You see your organs. You see your blood moving. You see bones, thousands of bones, and there in the middle of all this, protected by a cage of ribs you can see your small heart, beating for its life.
You take a closer look at it, and see everything you did and still want to do. And you see all the people you love, and the people who love you.
And again you're asking yourself: if there are so many people who are able to love you: why arent you able to love yourself? Why can't you forgive yourself?
You know that this is the only way to fight the screaming memories forever.
You look at the walls again, noticing: you're not ready to give up yet.
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