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“I Rise Into My Roles As Woman” (64 Positive Affirmations)
By: Cassandra Pereira
Tags: Positive Affirmations, Poetry Writing, Positive, Womanhood, Positive Thinking

I write Positive Affirmations each week on a different theme. You can also listen to a reading of these affirmations on my IGTV @ artingdarling.

Ph: Jessica Felicio via Unsplash

I Rise Into My Roles As Woman

I accept that life asks me to change roles,

Even to live several roles at once, often.

Some of these roles I choose freely,

And some roles are chosen for me.

I accept responsibility for what feels right.

and I resign from posts that don’t.

To honor my roles,

I’m proactive; I prepare.

I think through the needs of each role I wear,

and I intentionally decide how to fulfill them.

I use all the resources available to help me,

gratefully and respectfully.

I create and recreate my roles

As circumstances change.

I define, and redefine

What my roles need to succeed.

I define and redefine

Who I need to be

To navigate Life’s feisty, fickle flow.

Letting the expectations of everyone else go,

I surrender to the roles that need me.

When my world needs a mother,

I rise into my role as Mother.

With love always first,

I listen and guide.

I nurture.

I forgive.

I rise into my role as Mother.

When my world needs a sister,

I rise into my role as Sister.

I show up.

I support.

I share.

I rise into my role as Sister.

When my world needs a leader,

I rise into my role as Leader.

I empower.

I safeguard.

I persevere.

I rise into my role as Leader.

When my world needs an artist,

I rise into my role as Artist.

I express to connect.

I search for deeper meanings.

I try new things fearlessly.

I rise into my role as Artist.

When my world needs a wife,

I rise into my role as Wife.

I motivate the best in my husband,

By seeing and believing in him.

I tend to his strength

with the strength of my life.

I rise into my role as Wife.

And when my world needs a woman —

That sweet warmth like no other —

I rise into my role as Woman.

The eyes looking out beneath so many hats,

The last robe of a role to cover my soul:

Feminine force,

Sensitively tuned.

I am happy to be always a woman.

Building up myself and

Building up the people in my life,

I am here to nourish a flourishing.

I am soft and receptive,

Yet fiercely protective.

I look and listen for cues;

I intuit what I need to do

To honor all of my roles —

And I communicate those needs

With calm clarity.

Vital vessel, I am capable

And I am powerful.

I love and I love.

I cry, and I wipe away the tears of others.

I know this world asks too much of me;

I choose to believe it’s my honor.

I know that I will do it all,

One way or another.

And I choose the way of the warrior,

Wonder Woman, Super Heroine,

Pass me my cape.

I accept every shifting role

I’m destined to call mine.

I create and recreate.

I define and redefine.

I regenerate.

I communicate.

I rise into my roles as Woman.

Please share these affirmations with a woman in your life who you love.
Goals
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry, Poems On Medium

Goals are meant as a guide

A road map to show the way

With no guidance

There is no direction

Goals are like a pathway

Giving us something to achieve

With no goals

What have we to look forward to

Where is the direction

It like a roller coaster

Or a mountain

Full of peaks and valleys

Goals can change

Keep them within your sight

When you lose direction

Your goals can be lost
Leaving
By: Jeffrey Flesch
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Written Tales, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Photo by Andreas Dress on Unsplash

Sometimes

There is a leaving

A thing that happens,

Even when

We would rather

That things

Already in place

Would just

Stay the same

Where there is comfort

In knowing

What to expect,

Even when

What

We expect

Is not the best, and

Is flecked with

Anguish, and

Heartache

A natural occurrence

Yet, not the only way

That we can play

Within a life

Filled

With

A

Sense of mastery

And knowing

More

Sometimes, then

Leaving is necessary

My friend,

To

Learn more

About ourselves

And, our place on

This beautiful planet

So, when next

A leaving is needed,

Please remember,

That inside of a leaving

Already lives

Your returning
Not Worthy of Remembrance
By: Mayra Gomes
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Memories, Poetry, Poems On Medium

My mind plays tricks on me

Melting memories together

In the molds of my plots

Developed over the years,

These narratives of delusion

Mend my shattered recollections

My mind deemed most of my life

not worthy of remembrance

Except for some scars and tears

I remember the stories,

Told a million times,

But not the moments.

Those vanished forever.

Then, a scent fills the air

And a song plays on the radio

All that I felt comes back to me,

As if I’d never left that moment to begin with.
Write Like You Mean It
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

After writing, read to yourself :

Would it compel you to read more

The title is important

A subtitle next

The opening paragraph

Needs to be leading

Grab attention

An image that is captivating

Draw the reader in

Make your lines punchy

Right from the start

Think to yourself

Would I really read this
The One
By: Nameless Poetry
Tags: Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Love Poems, Poetry On Medium

Consistent love,

effortless affection,

you’re my day and night.

My rose blooming under sunshine,

my calming wave crashing under moonlight.

Loving you was my fate.
Wasted Wednesday
Tags: Poem, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Wasted Wednesday

Photo:beastfromeast for iStock

I woke up late,

after moving to and fro,

from dreams into reality,

like an auld pendulum.

I cursed the Monday,

for being too mundane.

yearned for a Sunday,

and opened the day.

_____________________

Read Anton Chekhov plays,

to allay Walt Whitman’s cliches.

dallied downstairs to feed a cat,

and dallied upstairs to mislead a bat,

that ventured into my abode.

_____________________

Neighbour rang the bell,

baying for something,

What is it billy? I asked,

Uh….Ah…OOO….Phewww..,

Rocky is missing(his dog),

said the fucker, in,

as-if-i-care voice.

_____________________

We began to gun down,

stony lands, hilly grasses,

and we-never-knew-they-existed places,

used the lousy logics,

un-settled philosophies,

till I had a mini cardiac arrest.

______________________

After holding his tongue for a long time,

and polishing patience,

Kneeling down in khakis,

on a mountain of remorse,

billy burst —

breaking my quietude,

“I think, I locked it

in the basement.”

Wwwhatttt???,

was my response, before I drew a pocket knife,

on this only-existing-to-suck-my-soul asshole.

“yeah —

My little cousin is visiting us,

so, I thought to save the trouble,

to the young fellow by locking it in,

sorry, johnny.”

said the blue-eyed fucker,

and ran into whatever shit-hole it was.

________________________

Next time,

I would rather pretend or,

actually die, or,

go to prison after butchering billy.

________________________
Broken little things
By: Baye Amina
Tags: Creative Writing, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

When the heat

Makes our skin creep,

And cold makes our

Tongues stick to the roof,

Remember that as the weather,

Nothing lasts forever.

We are here today



And tomorrow, the other way.



Whole this moment,



Morphing into brokenness



In the next breath.

Embrace the uncertainty,



Love the cold and heat,



And discover the beauty



In being broken.

We are all broken little things.



Our broken parts



Let the light in.

The light that pieces



Us together, filling



The void within.
the beast awakened
By: Mya Gibson
Tags: Poem, Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

the beast awakened

ebony fur with cacao eyes

he examined me

eyes piercing me as if they were daggers

he kept me prisoner for years

behind walls with veins and arteries

and i enjoyed it

years went on

and soon i found myself enjoying the feeling

the exhilaration the beast gave to me

soon i found that it felt so good it left an excruciating burning in my chest

all i could think of was the beast

and soon i realized

he destroyed me

he delightfully

deliciously

destroyed me
A Love Unwritten
By: Nameless Poetry
Tags: Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Love Poems, Poetry On Medium

Your love is a poem

that could never be written down.

The words of any language aren’t worthy enough.
Anxiety is Safe
By: Abi K
Tags: Ametuer Writer, Poem, Poetry Writing, Anxiety, Practice Tips

Sometimes my whole being becomes a massive knot. My world seems to zoom in on this one spot, the one right below my abdomen.

My nerves standing at attention, my whole body writhes with tension, and in that singular moment, I am caught. My vision hyper-focused — I’m forced to wait for it to pass. A feeling not so easily forgot.

You see love is taught but anxiety is not — it is a warning built into our bones.

A heart can turn to stone, shrivel when shown, but bones stand all on their own, no matter what.

Just like that day you walked into my life.

I didn’t even know you yet but my body lunged towards you in a warm embrace of familiarity.

As if my future was staring back at me.

I knew we would be more than hello and I cried at the thought of goodbye.

Fate is truly trifling — misleading our beliefs.

Because maybe when we all find the afterlife and we live with our sorrows and regrets eternally it all hits us with astonishing agony.

Our lives were not what they seemed, and that gives us immense grief.

Every good decision we thought we ever made will be waved shamefully in our faces.

Because happiness and love and comfort are all a trick, feelings fabricated and made to make us feel less sick when in fact we are the disease.

Life wouldn’t be worth living if we knew the secret to living carelessly — the ultimate key.

And that’s to not care about anybody or anything because the sick cannot cure the sick.

Yet with the disease, we stick.

One person’s harmless symptom is another person’s deadly trigger.

It’s only in the afterlife that we finally realize that it is us who are responsible for the pain and suffering of everyone we thought we loved selflessly.

We were in control of everything.

Yet because we were too selfish to live alone in solitude to safeguard others from our suffocating illnesses — we became recklessly intoxicating.

We held the gun and shuttered at the squeeze of the trigger- fate, back for its reckoning.

So this is why I cannot trust love or the beautiful skin that it claims to wear.

Love is death’s joke on the living so that death may become our despair.
Atomic Poetry(33)
Tags: Poem, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Poet and sharing a few other things
A sonnet for those who tend to daydream
By: Maria Rattray
Tags: Procrastination, Poetry Writing, Sonnet, Productivity Tips, Poetry On Medium

A sonnet for those who tend to daydream

It’s morning, and my plans are all in place.

My writing, in my mind is etched, but now,

For just a sec, my emails I will trace,

And then a Facebook view, just short, I trow!
O Venerable, O Ancient!
By: Mahesh Cr
Tags: Sri Aurobindo, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Yoga, Poetry On Medium

Once in a grey hour of despair

I huddled within in an ego shell

Caught in grip of a futility’s spell,

A gloom was upon my stare.

O why must I be most unvisited

By Thee I thought; unfriended, alone

Bereft of Thee and most forlorn

In this empty house of Night.

And then I heard in a million cells

Thy voice, a flower-soft resonant thunder,

Drowning my being in utmost wonder

Saying, ‘O who in despair calls

To Me in all things ever present?

Deaf mute to all apparent glory

That I invested in thy little story?

In what speck am I now absent

I who uphold thee on this globe?

The sentinel stars I have appointed

From empty space to thee guard.

I shield thy soul with a living robe,

Crowned thee with a mind to muse.

The daily victory of the champion sun

Over all that the Night has done,

Its daily distortions, its wily ruse.

I send thee messenger birds

On airy roads through space afar,

In melodious beaks My words of care

To shore thee from sullen moods.

O lone pilgrim in eternal Time,

Thy roads are never empty

Of My unerring will and beauty,

Circle boldly My manifest shrine.’

The words then sunk to my soul,

It awoke then from Time’s stupor,

In radiance the gloom did disappear

Outshining this matter’s dim rule.

I then prayed, ‘O Venerable, O Ancient,

Obeisance to Thee most beneficent!’
Thunderstorm
By: Kimberly Melvin
Tags: Thunderstorm, Poetry Writing, Dear Diary, Poetry

I always loved thunderstorms because your coldness hit harder

You were louder than a thunderstorm, but a sound did not leave this house, it was trapped like a bullet trying to leave a gun but the ‘safety’ was on.

To us the ‘safety’ meant “be quiet” or “don’t you dare tell anyone”

And we would listen; why? Because we were told to listen to those above us in age, we were told to respect them — not because they earned it, but because they ‘deserved’ it.

‘Fair’ is a word beyond reason. An uncontrollable, relentless fatigue that filled my eyes with regret. Was it fair?

Define ‘fair'

‘No one could say he played fair'

I was unaware, darkened to the habit that you grew. The pilot was an episode of uncertainty, but I certainly remained afraid, yet seemingly stuck in this script that had ‘unfair' written all over it.
What if, what if…
By: Millie Hernandez
Tags: Creative Writing, Writers On Medium, Dreams, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium

What if, what if…

Tonight I tell you everything

Because these drinks have gotten me

Gotten me to a state of speaking everything

What if, i tell you how it hards

To lose something so beautiful & delicate.

What makes you sooo different

I lost pieces of you, pieces that i wish to hold

Tell me, tell me did you grow? Did you change?

Are you telling me what i wish to hear

Four gears, manual shift.

Spent my summers learning gear

Yet, I never needed learning.

Gears, shift those gears for me.

Let me rest in those words, say those words

I wonder why, you’re the most loved person

Yet, i know.

I know deep down

Beneath all this, beneath this all

I’ll never be that much for you…

Hush hush.

They await me.

25.11.

-m.j.h.

Medium Medium Staff
Shining Star
By: Denise Kollock
Tags: Poetry Writing, Stars, Poetry, Adventure, Love

A poem

Photo by Benjamin Davies on Unsplash

Do you look up at the heavens,

finding the perfect light to

shine at you, dazzling across

the glorious night.

There are many of them all over,

all around… it’s hard to choose-

all the constellations but one

from afar stands out,

so precious and mysterious,

in need of discovering,

learning who you are-

shining star, I see you up there.

Let us gaze at the galaxy together,

getting to know about your tales and specialties

let this beautiful night

flourish upon us.
Sunrise
By: Kimberly Thomas
Tags: Poem, Lovestory, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Love

Sunrise

Photo by Emily Karakis on Unsplash

I need to rest, to close my eyes

And pull away from life’s surprise

The necessary allure of knowing

that I’m alive.



My love’s not lost, but it’s not new.

Within my being, a bond that’s true.

Something I’ll wait for and know is in view —

The sunrise which comes to show me you.



You’re not icy, but far away

Pulling in amidst the fray

Wondering what I want and need to say

But I only feel to see my way.



No fighting, no hurt or pain,

Just long to be in our space again.

Surrounded by the love of a friend

Who cares for me and will take me within

His heart.
Choses Que Je Ne Savais Pas Aimé
By: Tyler A. Donohue
Tags: Poem, Creative Writing, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Paris

I didn’t know that I loved the smell of lilac in April air. The way

cobblestones feel underfoot, sounds of spoons against cups.

I didn’t know how I loved the sound of Edith Piaf

while walking along the Seine. The way I would drag my

index finger along the ragged edge of Pont Neuf until a drop of blood

seeped from freshly broken skin.

I didn’t know that I love the way French men kiss

my thighs. The way his lips felt against my Monday

morning skin.

I didn’t know how good he would taste

after eating croissants, espresso-stained tongue. The way

he sauntered away on the platform, boarding a train to Bretagne,

as I took a drag from my slender cigarette.

I didn’t know I loved the sound of the accordion

playing, as the sun paints itself across Sacré Coeur.

I didn’t know I could ever love my own company so fully.

I didn’t know I loved alone, like

lilac alone in the atmosphere.
1947, India —
By: Tanvi Solapurkar
Tags: Opinion Piece, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium, India

Midway,

Hair that was once braided

Has been parted into two

Midway, bridal vermillion spews.

Meandering in memory of:

Scathed roots

Tresses forced to bid farewell

Homeless, bald lands

Overnight refugees

The unremembered fallen strands.

A solitary brown smeared, scattered into hues

Unveils an abscess called no man’s land

Tired of brimming with stale hatred

It is only time before it ruptures

Into a cataract of fresh sanguine, metallic vermillion.
Escape is easy
By: Amy Shea
Tags: Escape, Poetry Writing, Letting Go, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

If so, then line up all those sins

and count them off like baby toes.
A Story a Tale
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

It is something that is not real

When I hear a story, it sounds

Like make believe

Something made up

Definitely not real

Yet that is a tale

It as far as we know

Is not real we make it up

When I started to write

I realised a story can be real

Not just make believe
A Writer’s Lament
By: Sarah Cupitt
Tags: Creative Writing, Writing, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

you are the only temptation

that I would pray and live for,

fall for words soft as the shade

carrying a meaning that hides

chaotic dried remnants

of a summertime gone

plucked from the same branches

in the fall when I first met you

along a cement sidewalk

where waves crashed against

the brick wall and brushed it

with a gentle kiss

Photo by Valik Chernetskyi on Unsplash
Onward O Soul
By: Mahesh Cr
Tags: Sri Aurobindo, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Yoga, Poetry On Medium

What shall daunt thee O soul,

What strong ills or soiling vice

Speckle thy marless shining visage

Shaped in blazing fields immortal?

What shall pause thee O soul,

What Titan hand impede thy journey

How many chasms of impossibility

Hast thou traversed of the Whole!

What heavy hand of weakness

Can oppress with its incapacity

The inevitable freedom thy destiny

Conferred at birth by divine waters?

Despair not of thy body’s shroud

The recalcitrant sheath slow to learn,

For by repeated dawns shall burn

Thy cell and bone by God inflammed.

If in abyss be appointed the hour

Or in sylvan heights thy stage,

Always the ascending war to wage

On the steep climb of Spirit’s stair.

Onwards O soul, who shall tarry thee,

Thy Master awaits on the cusp of infinity!
Scars
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Scars Struggles, Poetry On Medium

Your scars are not your Shame

They are your story

Show me your scars

Let me know your story

Let me know you

Let me love you wholly
Oh, GODDESS!
Tags: Poetry Writing, Romance, Poetry, Winter, Love

Oh, GODDESS!

The lonliest season

For love

Is winter

A million reasons

I have

To love you

I can not leave you

My Pearl

For a trillion bucks

I am the angel

Of love, and you

The Goddess

Come bless my winter

Oh, Goddess!

The safest heaven

For me

Is your heart
i was an observer that day.
By: Brittany Solem
Tags: Journalism, Thoughts, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Journey

i was an observer that day. i often feel this way. much less of a participant, more often a distracted observant. i watch lovers kiss in parks, holding hands for all to see. i watch children skipping and laughing with pure naivety. it’s a beauty to see. i watch time move too fast as people wave farewell. off to different coasts. the only tangible truth is the feeling of separate, a stranger in this place i’ll always be. connections fascinate me in the ways we search and long for something more than ourselves. in the ways we anticipate actions with reactions. the power plays in place of love. the fear in place of security. guards will stand all day to protect that which we attribute value. an interesting dissonance. were we meant to meet? or are meetings of pure coincidence and consequence? i wonder a mighty deal of things, i’d never speak least i bore your mind with all the complexity and intricacies that fill mine. i suppose that’s where disconnect lives. in the space in-between. yet life is a constant series of in-between. in-between birth and death. in-between strangers and lovers. in-between waking and sleeping. always waiting on a verdict or diagnosis. nostalgic with the past, uncertain for the future. in-between relationships, undefined intentionally. in-between summer and winter, winter and fall. the rise of a wave between the still of the ocean. the fall of leaves between the growth of new. hold a lover to let them go. love lands somewhere between magic and a myth. conceived only by those willing to touch it. interchangeable goodbyes and hellos. patterned endlessly on repeat. the music plays between beginning and end. a dance shared in spaces alone or with friends. a step connected with the last, continuous repetition from day to day.
Go home
By: Millie Hernandez
Tags: Creative Writing, Writing On Medium, Poetry Writing, Home, Poetry On Medium

My lovely mind

I’m sorry to disappoint on days

That are too hard

I know, i know you have shown me

But, I’m a little clouded

Those voice torment me today

I’m slowly losing grip

Grip of what’s real

Tell me, tell me.

Are my dreams the only reality I need?

Why are those the ones that make me feel

Feel more alive more in love with this place

I wanna go home, i wanna go home

Could this continue that conversation

With those eyes that seem to save me

Am I scared? Am i terrified?

Have you made me this way?

Just for today, just for today

This pain, this isn’t mine to carry

This isn’t ours to carry…

This guilt? Isn’t mine

Isn’t mine…

I need to home, i need to go —

M.j.h.

Medium Staff Medium
The Loveliest Garden
By: Nameless Poetry
Tags: Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poems On Medium, Poetry Sunday

The soil of your environment

bloomed the loveliest garden.

But, there always come the days

where you can’t stand tall and kiss the sun.

The tears you let flow watered your very existence,

that was when you felt truth in your power,

of how you can always feed yourself,

to still bloom under the darkest hour.
Chaotically awake, catastrophic but not fake…
By: Ashlei Cox
Tags: Creative Writing, Poetry Writing, Sonnet, Fiction, Poetry

…

“I can’t find you.” That’s all I really wanted to say, I can’t find you, where are you? Just ask me to stay, play, olay, hooray, and okay.

And all these sentences: I’m all out of glory for that shrill effect of understanding Lori. All the cars that keep passing are white. There’s a fright; fearing of not being clear of repetition; of being tired and fictitious. Of you at home with the Misses. Boy clothes on Wednesday girl clothes on Thursday.

Sitting here in winter. Trees blowing around, not a sound, save for me blowing all the smoke towards the ground. Sentences and poetry coexist chaotically. Metaphorically I couldn’t see, even if it was dashed out-written right in front of me. The rhythm.

Just one true line and I’ll get out of crime. Just one true line and I’ll be hooked like that crook selling shit for dimes. Who am I? I.

It’s still nighttime…well like four…and I put on the kettle once more. Get a muse. Be amused. Don’t abuse, your authority. As I drink the tea I know with certainty this was definitely the time of day I was born. The mind pleased with no sound but the soul at ease. Was kind of hungry so when I got to the fridge I ate all the cheese. I mean…

“I can’t find you. That’s all I really wanted to say, I can’t find you where are you? Just me stay, okay?”
8 Tips to Jumpstart into Poetry Writing
By: E J
Tags: Creative Writing, Poem, Poetry Writing, Blog Posts, Tips

Poetry is regarded to be the freest form of creative writing. It can talk about almost anything, no rules attached; it’s like freedom caged in words. A piece can end in four lines with four words, in an infinite number or anything in between. Your imagination is the only limitation.

These attributes appeal so strongly to writers that writing a poem seems to be the easiest outlet for creative bursts. However, if you could only use a compass to lead you in writing poetry, it can get overwhelming as it’ll be all over the place.

If you are considering challenging yourself to write, here are some tips to help you go further:

1. Choose a topic that interests you

As said earlier, there can be a broad choice of subjects. Determining and fully understanding your subject would help you focus on tackling the most important parts and leaving everything that’s unnecessary.

2. Be precise in your aim

Like any other form of writing, what do you plan to achieve in writing this topic? Try to answer this question, you’ll see how it gets less confusing and easy to write. In this, your ideas could include your opinion on the matter.

3. Pick a pattern

You can use free verse or a rhyme and meter, a short one using haikus, etc. With that said, don’t force your poems into a pattern that you just prefer because most of the time it will just be awkward to read. Use a different one whenever you write so you could grasp the entirety of poem writing and settle with the one you are most comfortable with.

4. Stay away from cliches

These are overused expressions or sayings. If you tried using one, chances are people already used to hearing such and could even lead to them being uninterested for the rest of what you wrote.

5. Spice it up with metaphor and similes

These are the best alternatives for cliché phrases. You can always make up comparisons to better relay what you want to say. Give the readers something to think about.

6. Concrete and imagery words instead of abstract ones

For poems to be effective, you need to use words that will incite all our senses. In contrast with the vague feelings like joy and love, it’ll be better to use instances where you can describe how and why you felt that way. Don’t force your readers what to feel instead provoke it by your words.

7. Challenge the ordinary

Always try looking beyond and with a different perspective, you’ll be surprised how a normal day leaves the usual untouched. Trying out weird ideas can do wonders for your writing.

8. Reread on top of revise, revise, revise

Poetry is an endless cycle of rewriting everything you already wrote. It is advisable to leave your poem for a day to be able to read it with a fresh mind and be objective in your judgment. Also, seeking criticisms will help you improve faster.

Poetry is a magical process that needs you, a journey in seeking arts with words alone.

Feeling inspired? Now, grab that pen and paper and start with your first word.
Artificial Love
By: Melissa Sheppard
Tags: Poetry Writing, Hurt, Poetry, Poetry On Medium, Love

Your presence makes me feel warm on the coldest nights; on the nights where my soul feels frozen until you walk in through the door

where you’d pin me down and draw me open like a map, lifting each bit of anger out of my heart

where this lust built into us finally conquers the anger that has been engraved into my heart time after time again

and my common sense decides to take a run while every naive piece of me falls back into you, to the hurt and the lies

thinking maybe if I stay long enough, maybe if I love you hard enough

you’ll finally reciprocate the love I’ve laid out on the table each day for you, that maybe every ounce of pain you’ve brought me will be multiplied by devotion

and in the end, the past won’t matter because things will be fixed

because you’ll finally mean it when you apologize, you’ll finally listen to my words; you’ll finally feel more than just this intoxication that fills each room we step into

you’ll learn to crave for my smile rather than the moan you’ve been pining to pull out of me; you’ll finally grip ahold of this infatuation that was built into what is us and exchange it with pure love
My Visit to a Fortune Teller
Tags: Poem, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

My Visit to a Fortune Teller

Photo:CSA Images for iStock

Grief struck like a classy arrow hitting the bullseye,

it warranted a visit to the Arab girl,

yes, I was hoping to hack the hap.

it was a sultry Sunday,

Apollo, in his casual cruelties,

embracing the ecstasy of the earth.

anyway,

oh — it’s you again,

said the seer,

in her stained eyes.

did the stars shine right?

was the question,

only to show the pain brightly,

was the response.

_____________________________________________

Johnny, only pain’s pilgrimage is pure,

try, not treading it with tears.

said the seer.

In a husky voice,

I spoke —

I crossed the sun, the moon,

summer, and the winter,

day and the night,

ebb and the flows,

mountains and the valleys,

in rectitude.

regardless,

the clocks did not move,

the stars never aligned to pacify,

the dreams are half-eaten and half-rusted,

the roads not taken, too ended in dead-ends,

the heart was never stretched,

the lungs never loosened,

and the breath still heavy and hectic.

____________________________________________

Look,

said the seer,

all stories die in the end,

even the sad ones,

especially, them, said the old kitten around her.

your clouds are heavy,

yes,

but, soon they shall wet the marshes.

ha,

the roads,

every highway shall meet a crossroad,

you are supposed to enjoy the drive,

not count the miles along the path.

now,

put that god damn smile,

and take a breath.

____________________________________________

well, that sanitized my soul,

I thought —

and took the up-road,

cycling across the un-lit streets,

whistling and eating the emptiness of winds.

____________________________________________
On The Rebound
By: Josh Fernandes
Tags: Poesia, Poetry Writing, On The Rebound, Poetry, Poetry Sunday

The darkness is near and closing fast,

A fleeting sense of hope leaving too fast,

The heart loosing a significant one,

The earth loosing the light of the sun,

Loneliness so quick to fill my pores,

The light is trapped behind closed doors,

Why does this emotion enter my being,

Only sound no use to rely on seeing,

My heart compromised by the other,

Is this the reason light has gone so sudden,

The reason we push away the truth,

To keep us from finding the loot,

For where are the days filled with light,

When she was here how it all seemed right,

But it was a hoax played off well,

And I was lost just escaping from hell,
(IJCH) Handprints on the window…(A Poem of Perseverance)
Tags: Life, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

image by pixabay

Snippet: “I’m that poor small kid on the sludge-filled street — peering through the baker’s shop window.”

IJCH — Inside JaiChai’s Head (Meaning: My Warped, Personal Opinions and Musings)

image by giphy

From the Author:

Salutations.

I am JaiChai.

And if I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you before, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance now.

image by giphy

For my returning online friends, “It’s always great to see you again!”

image by Jessica Drossin flickr.com

I’m that poor small kid on the sludge-filled street -

peering through the baker’s shop window.

Just the sight of those wondrous treats makes me -

oblivious to the sleet and snow.

Delicious things of my world out of reach,

beyond my means,

just inches away.

I can’t touch them, can’t taste them, can’t smell them -

a foggy window keeps me at bay.

I look around, my heart instantly sinks — “Barriers for entry everywhere!”

Just like sentinels guarding a princess -ready to act: “Trespassers Beware!”

Soon, workers will wipe all muddy traces -

of my meager existence away.

My hopes and dreams that will never see light -

on a miserable snowy day.

I leave muddy handprints on that window -

I walk home, thinking, “My life’s a mess.”

No time for self-pity, I tell myself, “What can set you apart from the rest?”

I keep trying ’cause I know no better,

true to my inner self — come what may.

Through all the disappointments, sneers and jeers -

delivering my best — no delay.

Years of hard work and still nothing to reap.

Stubborn, I charge on — no matter what.

Because it’s my integrity at stake -

otherwise it will be all for naught.

Suddenly, opportunities appear -

shiny sparks in my mind like lightning.

Life’s hidden landscape, now visibly clear -

reveals the meaning for everything.

I sailed life’s ocean on the makeshift boat -

I’d built through years of harsh weather -

Weather that causes all flowers to wilt -

and cruelties you can not measure.

PEERING OUT, pondering the sludge-

filled street, comfortably warm BEHIND the window.

Tasting things I yearned for early in life,

but couldn’t reach — many years ago.

Persistence rewarded for everything -

done precisely — down to the letter.

Because I kept trying, no matter what -

for in my heart I knew no better.

By JaiChai

May you and yours be well and love life today. In lak’ech.

“Really Appreciate You Stopping By. Truly hope to see you again!”

And if you liked my post, kindly Upvote, Comment, Follow and Repost.

About the Author:

Believing that school was too boring, he dropped out of High School early; only to earn an AA, BS and MBA in less than 4 years much later in life — while working full-time as a Navy/Marine Corps Medic.

After 24 years of active duty, he retired in Asia.

He lives on an island paradise with his girlfriend, teenage daughter and two dogs.

This article contains excerpts from: (IJCH) Seriously? Poetry? Alright, I’ll Bite. Here’s My First Poem Ever! Revised 12–14–2020. All rights reserved.
Born to Write
By: Lubov L
Tags: Poem, Writing, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Born to Write

Image by Bruno /Germany from Pixabay

Holding pens, we walk side by side,

Wrapped in a fog of uncertainty,

Trying to understand the humanity,

Finding the secrets of life.

Our light is killing the dark

When we look in the eyes of eternity.

We belong to the same community

Of people who were born to write.
A Chance with you Heart
By: Nameless Poetry
Tags: Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poems On Medium, Poetry Sunday

Every day you take a chance with your heart.

Will it feed you love you accept

or put you through the motions

as you unpack

the harshest parts of torment

hard to neglect,

riding those waves

’til you fall into a trench.
Cupid’s Favorite
By: Nameless Poetry
Tags: Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry Sunday

Cupid licked the arrows with a poisoned tongue.

Aimed for me with such poise,

let go, and in the air it sung.

Hit me in the back all the while it never stung.

Thought I was finally with the one

until the left side of me went numb.

You closed me off as we were opening up.

We were forcing trust,

knowing we weren’t important enough

to make the efforts

to have each other in our lives of love.

Our intentions were rooted in deception,

we demanded a love we once knew.

I ripped the arrow out

to still be left with the wound.

To heal from it,

I’m like an addict needing his fix to function.

So on to the next one, Cupid aim for me again.

Rehab for me will be once love is no longer destructive.
The Fool
By: Tina Altman
Tags: Poem, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Open heart and open mind

A cassim leaping into the unknown

Childlike expectations increase as you go

They think you foolish

Trusting in your fresh start

Pure newness on the increase

Things are on the upswing
Kiss the Sky
By: Nameless Poetry
Tags: Poet, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry Sunday

Because of your heart,

nothing is impossible.

All of the strength inside you

pushes you past the obstacles.

Even when you feel broken,

hurting you so bad,

leaving your mind

with thoughts so hopeless,

remember the blessings

behind the agony

waiting to come.

Because what’s lasting peace

without suffering first?

It’s the motivation that sparks

back the love with yourself,

in order to build yourself,

so you can kiss the sky

knowing you’ve healed yourself.
I found comfort in ink
By: Mya Gibson
Tags: Poem, Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

I found comfort in ink

trickling down onto the paper

like steady rain onto river rocks

i create those who look as i do

talk as i do

and walk as i do

though we can’t coexist

you were always real to me.
the banter around me is an endless cycle of back and forth
By: Mya Gibson
Tags: Poem, Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

the banter around me is an endless cycle of back and forth

and i find my being to be unamused

i strike up some creative spirit to go outside

just to be met with a blue sky with off white clouds

i don’t need it

i thrive more when the sky is in a love making sequence of onyx and ivory

then i know that i’ll be joyous again
Hospitals
By: Peter Andrew Edwards
Tags: Poem, Poet, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poems On Medium

Without them where would we be

Hospitals are needed

Some have emergency departments

Others have none

Some specialize on a field or two

Others specialize a lot

Depending on size

Some are for children

Some are adult only

They do not generalize

On age, gender or even wealth

People take them for granted

Abusing their trust

Summing it up

It is in them we put our trust
Musings over Closure
Tags: Poetry Writing, Musings, Poetry, Closure, Poetry On Medium

Image credit : https://www.behance.net/gallery/70048085/Random-Art

Closure

As this year draws to a close

I can truly say, I’m better off than worse

For this year too does end

In the sadness and clarity that 2019 lent.

Glimmers of hope and better things

That my life will take off on wings

And it certainly did, not the way I hoped

The groom hunt peaked and then sloped.

Four months and two guys later

It was clear I’d rather bed with gators.

Days and weeks and months rolled by

Fear of a virus put my life on stand by.

We watched with bated breath

Rising numbers of sickness and death

Praying for health and strength

Afraid we can’t hold much longer if this went on at length.

Yet we found happiness and gratitude

In this unexpected interlude

Appreciate the little things in life

Like salute the efforts of the housewife.

For our means to afford a roof and food

With the savings we accrued

Even when income ran dry

We played games, read books with occasional fries

A rare opportunity to bond

With the people of whom we’re fond.

Three months passed hence

Before a semblance of normalcy commenced

We picked up the pieces

Praying against another lockdown brought about by diseases.

Ever hopeful, ever positive

Finding new ways to make money — we got creative

Before long we got busy

Pandemic helped me realise my life, that was easy.

Complaints and worries disappeared

Thank my lot in life for I was luckier

Family friends and love, I had it all

People who would catch me if I fall.

I’m alive, I laugh plenty and have all the room for love

All it took was a virus to bring me out of the alcove

Of self debilitating thoughts and doubts

And reach for those dreams that I have in bouts.

Here I am, at the end of another year

Older, wiser and full of cheer

For all things good and bad

Were only lessons in life I had.

I am mindful of my blessings

And often indulge in philosophical musings

Bettering this version of me

Straighten the kinks I see.

If anything 2020 was eventful

Life altering and restful

One door closed and another one opened

Amazing how swiftly it all happened.

With a heavy but hopeful heart

2020, I’m ready to depart

Thank you for the wisdom and sage

2021, please set a better stage.
POETRY & POEMS NEWSLETTER
Tags: Emotional Intelligence, Poetry Newsletter, Poetry Writing, Emotional Poetry, Newsletter

✒✒POETRY & POEMS🖋🖋

UNDERSTAND IF YOU CAN

Hi! I am Bismala Zahid. I have been writing Poetry for the last 5 years. Just a few days, I have made my first publication. It’s name is Poetry & Poems. In it, you can not only read my own poetry, but you can also post your poetry there. And you can tell me my mistakes there too, in the comment box

I have created a Poetry publication, in which not only Poetry, but also Poems and Quotes will be added to your reading. Poetry became my own, neither a copy nor anyone else’s. I invite every branch to read your poetry, who has interest in Poetry.

Hidden under the shadows,

Soothed by the palms of the devil

Burnt by light

Lost my insight

When I was hurt in a fight

With whom should I side ?

The devil that protects me ,

Or the angel that hurts me .

.

Whom should I side with …..

Whom should I side with …….

A few more of this same style are also present in that publication. Some of those who have read your heart repeatedly and some who have become dear to you.

I welcome you all in my publication. Come and join me and move on to the world of Poetry. With the help of beautiful world Poetry.

XO,

~BISMALA ZAHID
broken mirrors light enters smoke cracked shadows faded there naked we sit gazing the void as life captured our last time together we are but illusions of burning colours our murky reflection…
By: Midnight Blue
Tags: Creative Writing, Poems On Medium, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

broken mirrors light enters

smoke cracked shadows faded

there naked we sit gazing the void

as life captured

our last time together

we are but illusions

of burning colours

our murky reflection

charred by dreams

these blurry remembrance

we tried to forget

a shaded mirage of what was

and what could be

could i have remember it

differently

-polaroid,

m. blue
Brutalism
By: Peter Tracy
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

ordering,

ordering at the still point

white noise ordering the

drone of synthetic,

horizontal,

structure;

light towers humming in the city center

hyperreal

geometric squares of

lives spent

ordering

digitized nightlight and

drumbeat of

wire cable power pylon

grid sparking

order barking

orders

black light revealing of the

order;

flying of a

dark flag sideways,

citybound;

phosphorescent stairways,

black armor shielding automatic yield

of smoke green canister:

currents,

voltage

graven maze of street covers

ordering of midair blooms

still silent flight into curved lines

slow now

set it down gently into

braille of steel sheet screws:

farewell

never seen again

never shout again

arc perfect glide behind of

bright white grenade

made a law

flash cartography for

bringing into

order dealing

order

piercing ringing sin wave

crouching in all ears for

control of power generator

giving to us

order
7 Christmas Carols Rewritten By Google’s AI Poetry Tool
By: Matt Paolelli
Tags: Poetry Writing, Music, Christmas, AI, Poetry

7 Christmas Carols Rewritten By Google’s AI Poetry Tool

One of Google’s newest AI research experiments is Verse By Verse, a tool that gives you the power to collaborate with AI versions of history’s greatest poets to produce a work of staggering genius consisting of parts both original and artificially fabricated by data and algorithms. To seed its suggestions, Google fed its AI bard all the classic poetry you pretended to have read in high school and college.

After choosing the poet(s) with whom you wish to jam and the style of the poem you will create (form, syllables, rhyme scheme), it’s time to kick things off with a winning opening line so that AI Edgar Allan Poe can earn his keep.

While I have no particular interest in writing new poems with bots, I was a little curious about how these robo-poets might reimagine some of our favorite Christmas songs. So I chose a poet to go to town on one of seven different beloved Yuletide carols. I put in a couple of the real lines and then I chose from the AI-provided suggestions to do the rest. Below are my results.

Pour yourself a cup of hot cocoa and sing along to these new holiday hits!

“As For Me And Grandpa” by Emily Dickinson

Inspired by “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer”
Hopeless Disaster
By: Alina Happy Hansen
Tags: Writing, Poetry Writing, Writer, Poetry, Poetry On Medium

Alina Happy Hansen is a Freelance Writer, Poet, and Blogger in Salt Lake City, Utah. She loves coffee, stoner metal, and watching the cheesy original Dark Shadows TV series. Find Alina elsewhere: https://linktr.ee/alinahappyhansen

Wanna join my email list? You will receive one of my poems in your inbox and other great stuff every Monday. Sign up here.
Nezha
By: Peter Tracy
Tags: Poetry Writing, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

globalized blur,

aerosol to concrete,

poison in the bloodstream,

fine mist of clouds;

spray-can signage,

soundless steps for the

sleepless seething of the

anxious crowds,

real and hyperreal

gutter now running,

license plate,

camera,

costume change in nightlights,

prayers to a neon god;

dice thrown and

luck coming:

chaos dance with makings

of a ritual,

sacrifice

incense burning hands

grid of space

window-panes of shining glass,

not half full or empty now but

shattered,

in pieces;

blue shards of

cold riot,

rebar to a

scattered sand of motion on a

sidewalk full to

bursting from a

dirge of bodies shapeless

dissipate down alleyways

new beings:

we are,

nameless as a

digitized wind blowing

through a hollow diaphragm;

traffic lights and

open mouth of

all-consuming cityhood

seat of glowing worlds:

ask and he will tell.

trickster god,

let him see your true face:

maskless,

he will show you things under the

halogen fluorescent swirl;

show you signs of spirits riding

power cables,

street cars,

find you in the night and in the crowd,

where you stalk.

light,

the everywhere of city-being

smiling through the fog,

the bright neon fixture as the

crown of all his acolytes:

credit card animator,

soft screen illuminator,

voltage,

blurring

beings
Study number 1
By: Alyssa Ferguson
Tags: Research, Meter, Poetry Writing, Alliterations, Poetry

Photo by Rūta Celma on Unsplash

All the long-short day,

sunlight moves across my lawn,

turning sharp shadows

of the limp leaves of fallen autumn

from west to east.

(So shadow is the slave of dying.)

So Shakti is deployed by leavings

of the violent seasons! —and yet! —

and yet they do so not alone.

The leaves of dying

lie upon a bed of grass —

grass that shows new tender growth,

thus elegantly shadowing

the mystery of fulgent Dao,

as daintiness of new-formed blades

belies the violence of drought and cold.

The grass, the light, the leaves—

all these are elements of shadow,

all required for

the lurid, limpid, languor

of my musings.

My lust for them is fantasy:

illusion without discipline.

The blades of new grass are a solace,

emollient to melancholy,

not useless, but desired.

So burn the embers of the fading fall;

so spring the hopes that will belie them all.
Oh Small One
By: Beth Nintzel
Tags: Poem, Poetry Writing, Poetry, Poetry On Medium, Childhood

Oh Small One

I had a dream we were running hand in hand

along the ocean’s edge, you and I,

Small One.

You were laughing with a smile that could steal the shine from the sun;

light and free with your brown bob of hair lain as a crown upon your

cherub face.

You trusted me to run with you.

To gallop side by side and never leave you unattended because that is when the monsters came.

Oh Little Me, I promise to comfort you in your moments of

distress and anguish,

in these memories that wash up on the tide like drowned vessels of

tangled seaweed.

I promise to scoop you up from the sand should you fall and to

kiss the scrape upon your knees as you watch

me with a curious gaze.

You know I won’t hurt you. Not anymore.

I just want to make it better for you, oh Small One inside of me.

This I promise,

and I never make a promise I don’t intend to keep.

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