Acceptance Poems
Letting go of my dark past
by Nad Sof
Letting go of the past is excruciating,
the pain that once ravaged me.
Why is it so hard?
Because, within that anguish,
I found a fleeting comfort,
though it was but a façade—
hollow declarations of love
from those who never truly cared.
I yearned for someone to hold me,
to whisper, “I love you,”
......
A Desert Bloom
by Muhamad Parid
In arid lands, a rose so rare,
You bloomed, a wonder beyond compare.
Your beauty shines, a priceless treasure bright,
A jewel that illuminates my darkest night.
To love you's a fight I'm doomed to lose,
A hopeless quest, my heart forever bruised.
Your heart's a guiding light, shining afar,
In someone else's garden, where love's a shining star.
......
Flower
by Rhys O’Donnell
It is summer.
On my walks I have frequented the most beautiful flower you could conceive. It stands in a clearing across from the gravel path I stand on. I stood in awe of it every time I passed until I realized I could not live with myself if I did not approach this flower.
So I walked off my gravel path into the meadows; an experience that was unnatural to me. I approached the flower and was even more baffled by it up close. Its petals showed an assortment of different colours; each different and distinct from the other. I conversed with it telling it my deepest secrets, my dreams, my fears. It did not turn away from me or look at my soul with disgust. It stood tall despite its short stature and remained in bloom not coiling away from me.
I soon began talking with it every day never skipping my walk. Each day I’d notice a new petal I had not discovered. I wished to see them all, to be the only one who caressed them gently. One day a thorn pricked my hand, and I was left bleeding, but I wasn’t angry with the flower. I was merely excited to discover its every thorn and learn to navigate them. To show it I care for them just as much as Its petals.
A vase, I’ll put it in a vase and take it home, where I can spend the rest of my life with it. I approached it like I do every day I walk to the meadows and bend down to speak with it. Today however is different. This flower will be mine and mine alone until we wither away. I pull out my shears and press it to its neck, but just as I am about to cut. I look at it and I cry.
For I know that to bring it with me would only make them wither. What a grave crime it would be to rip it from its home where it bloomed into my life. I could change its water every day, give it the comfiest vase, put it on the windowsill where all the sunshine could reach. I could even preserve it so that its beauty would last forever, but I know this is a falsehood; it would be nothing but a husk. All these things I would do, yet I know the only truth is that this flower cannot remain happy or healthy if it were mine.
......
The Best Moment
by Somali Mukherjee
The moment we do
Perceive that we’re imperfect,
We try to succeed.
whitest door.
by Patrycja Czardybon
i've been looking for you
for such a long time,
for such a many shoulders looked over to
catch just the glimpse, revealing your act.
i got so lost in the process. scrutiny,
under every rock, to find
just the faintest of marks,
that I'm on your path.
......
A Desert Bloom
by Muhamad Parid
In arid lands, a rose so rare,
You bloomed, a wonder beyond compare.
Your beauty shines, a priceless treasure bright,
A jewel that illuminates my darkest night.
To love you's a fight I'm doomed to lose,
A hopeless quest, my heart forever bruised.
Your heart's a guiding light, shining afar,
In someone else's garden, where love's a shining star.
......
Letting go of my dark past
by Nad Sof
Letting go of the past is excruciating,
the pain that once ravaged me.
Why is it so hard?
Because, within that anguish,
I found a fleeting comfort,
though it was but a façade—
hollow declarations of love
from those who never truly cared.
I yearned for someone to hold me,
to whisper, “I love you,”
......
Inner Universe
by Doreen Lundie
A thousand whispers
Echo in my mind
The what ifs and the maybes
That have kept me here, confined.
An inner universe forgotten.
An undiscovered life
To find the courage of acceptance
To heal the child inside
Storm Chasing
by Taryn G
I always thought storm chasers
were a little crazy
these men with cameras
and beater cars
driving into the middle of nowhere
to chase an impending disaster.
Their faces would be split with a smile
almost drunk with pleasure
as they maneuvered their car across fields
and roads
......
Flower
by Rhys O’Donnell
It is summer.
On my walks I have frequented the most beautiful flower you could conceive. It stands in a clearing across from the gravel path I stand on. I stood in awe of it every time I passed until I realized I could not live with myself if I did not approach this flower.
So I walked off my gravel path into the meadows; an experience that was unnatural to me. I approached the flower and was even more baffled by it up close. Its petals showed an assortment of different colours; each different and distinct from the other. I conversed with it telling it my deepest secrets, my dreams, my fears. It did not turn away from me or look at my soul with disgust. It stood tall despite its short stature and remained in bloom not coiling away from me.
I soon began talking with it every day never skipping my walk. Each day I’d notice a new petal I had not discovered. I wished to see them all, to be the only one who caressed them gently. One day a thorn pricked my hand, and I was left bleeding, but I wasn’t angry with the flower. I was merely excited to discover its every thorn and learn to navigate them. To show it I care for them just as much as Its petals.
A vase, I’ll put it in a vase and take it home, where I can spend the rest of my life with it. I approached it like I do every day I walk to the meadows and bend down to speak with it. Today however is different. This flower will be mine and mine alone until we wither away. I pull out my shears and press it to its neck, but just as I am about to cut. I look at it and I cry.
For I know that to bring it with me would only make them wither. What a grave crime it would be to rip it from its home where it bloomed into my life. I could change its water every day, give it the comfiest vase, put it on the windowsill where all the sunshine could reach. I could even preserve it so that its beauty would last forever, but I know this is a falsehood; it would be nothing but a husk. All these things I would do, yet I know the only truth is that this flower cannot remain happy or healthy if it were mine.
......
