Self Poems
Philosophy of Me
by Ujjal Mandal
By Ujjal Mandal, India
Thoughts have a continual succession
of complacency or anxiety,
black thoughts paint me a fire fly
that emits light mere in the darkness.
I am like the flowing air
neither I have head to think
nor the arm to catch,
......
The Heart’s Shadow
by Kim L
The chosen stone plays a healing part
A talisman for a broken heart
The weight of which they could not wear
For it whispers truths, too much to bear
They chase themselves where power thrives
Through gilded halls where mirrors lie
They seek their strength in loud acclaim
But will come to find it’s all in vain
......
Lost
by Author Reinvented
I am lost.
I was broken long ago.
Tried to fix myself but I don't know
How much is me
And how much is the seeds
Planted in my memories,
A darkness hidden deep.
So push me down
To the ground,
......
Duality
by Malory Henry
I am everything I say I am,
and everything I'm not.
My peaks grow high into the sky
while my valleys fill with rot.
My dark eclipses my light
as my inner world expands.
I am everything I don't want to be,
and everything I am.
Amalgamation Curation
by Jessica Leininger
I desire violently and I wait.
I know how to be the inert object.
The sound of heavy boots
Which haven't been worn in a season.
Am I a stupid girl?
No, he says, you're a beautiful fish.
Every song is worship
......
The Heart’s Shadow
by Kim L
The chosen stone plays a healing part
A talisman for a broken heart
The weight of which they could not wear
For it whispers truths, too much to bear
They chase themselves where power thrives
Through gilded halls where mirrors lie
They seek their strength in loud acclaim
But will come to find it’s all in vain
......
Letter to Self
by Adelana Victor
Dear Adelana Victor Blaqhárt,
I need to make this crystal clear: stay out of my way. The path I’m on is one I’ve carefully crafted, and the vision I have for myself demands no interference—not even from me. I’ve spent enough time second-guessing, doubting, and overthinking. I can no longer afford the luxury of hesitation or the noise of self-imposed limits. So hear this—if you, I, ever attempt to sabotage what we’ve built, if you hesitate when you should leap, or if you take one step back instead of moving forward, I will not forgive you.
You’ve fought too hard to let yourself remain stagnant, to let fear or insecurity hold you back. Do not test me. I’ve been patient, I’ve been understanding, but I’ve had enough of this struggle. I have set goals, I’ve placed myself on a trajectory that demands all of my focus and strength. If you ever even think about derailing that, I will shut you down. There’s no room for doubt, no room for weakness, no space for hesitation. You either rise to meet the person you’ve promised yourself to be, or you get out of your own way. This is no longer a negotiation.
I know you, your brilliance, your creativity, your drive. But I also know your tendencies to question, to overthink, and to stall. The world won’t wait for you to find the courage; it won’t wait for your permission to move forward. So here’s the deal: stay out of your own way, or face the consequences of wasted potential. I won’t tolerate it. We’ve come too far.
From Adelana Victor,
You.
......
The Song of Spirit
by Julianne StanleyThere's something disturbing in the air. An eery, deep quiet; a boring hole of dark empty. There's nothing as loud as silence. Grey matter makes holy shapes before swallowing us whole. The moon pulls tides inward to the secret world of ocean like the soul pulls the body. I drool into my cup of dreams and pour it into a flowing river of desire. You count the rings of my fingerprints like the rings of a tree stump, and you find I am a thousand years old. An endless spiral, an endless song. We kiss poison and call it praise, we call it worship. We deny our powers in humanness and call it sin. Trees die, still calling your name. Yet you cannot hear for you will not listen.
Continue readingLuminal Whispers
by Julianne Stanley
The moth takes
its powdery soft breathes with
the strokes of its wings
and
the sycamore's leaves
murmur in their celestial tongue,
telling stories to the dark.
I take my breaths too,
but they come out coppery
......
Amalgamation Curation
by Jessica Leininger
I desire violently and I wait.
I know how to be the inert object.
The sound of heavy boots
Which haven't been worn in a season.
Am I a stupid girl?
No, he says, you're a beautiful fish.
Every song is worship
......
