Best My Story Poems
my life the canvas of my dreams
bound only by limits self imposed
i offer this mosaic to the world
hoping to reach the souls of some
and give a smile to many
AP: 1st place 2025
Submitted on December 19, 2018 for contest YOU ARE NOT DEFINED BY POETRY sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 5TH
there's not too much to tell of this story
no hero, no clown,
disaster nor frown
no gallows, no rope
just living of life
with sunshine, with hope
barefoot walks on storm drenched beaches
where worries up and wash away
I watch with real attention
noticing
each flicker, each moment
kissing a thousand waves
caressing the fatal flux
of visceral phenomena
it's beautiful
enamored in the iridescent
the blue
falling off the horizon
the world is flat
shells open
then float
alone in the depths of her sea
My feelings use to be bottled in
so I didn't know where to begin.
I picked up a pen and let my story begin.
Do I write because I'm right
or for others delight .
Do I write out of fright
or do I write because there is enough light.
If my beats aren't tight
Lord let my words still take flight.
I'm not a fighter I'm a writer.
That's why I will only fight you on paper
where it's much safer.
I will always fight for what I believe in.
So to all my haters,complainers,
intimidators,and all debaters.
This will never stop me
because God's spirit is within me.
May the words I now utter
melt hearts like butter.
I don't know where this might go,
but I'll keep writing
and watch it grow.
I told my story to the moon this morning
and he was excited at my new honey words
that breaks the ear of it beauty,
I think the sun was angry because I saw
her walked away with a battered black face.
What do u think the air would do?
Honestly, the stars were my witness and
They were the supporting narrators,
But I didn't know why the sun walked away on
Hearing what was in my golden mouth.
The story was not too sexy or that bad
But, it was as interesting as the Nollywood movies.
I told the moon about my love whose smile
Glows and makes the earth a paradise,
She was from the moon planet, a virgin,
That nurtures me like Moremi of Oyo kingdom.
We were happily married before the sun; before
The stars, before the clouded cloud.
The night was an old night when we wedded,
The stars was watching from its abode
When the pastor put Ring on her fingers.
After the night wedding I thank the stars for watching
Then, I praised the moon for listening
and for Giving me light that tells of my tomorrow.
Who will listen to my story?
It's not a tale of great defeat
nor one of fame, nor one of glory --
and I won't pretend that it's complete.
I've time to spend, still, on this earth
and things to say until I go.
I won't begin before my birth
or dwell too long on friend and foe.
I won't recount the passing years
or bore with lists of groundless fears.
As I review what I've just said,
I doubt that any who have read
up to this point my minor rhyme
will want to waste too much more time
while I expose my life's excess,
when all they need is to address
the short list of the poems I write
to post upon this useful site:
visit poetrysoup.com for you to see
much of what you'd wish
to learn of me.
"To love is nothing. To be loved is something.
But to love and be loved, that’s everything."
When you are in warm handshake with love
All you ever imagine is to fly up high like the dove
You never cease soaring in aptitude to dissolute
Your thirst to drink more from love’s well is absolute
By devotion of countless emotions
The extent you hope to sail is beyond oceans
Nothing seems impossible
And by counts, every dream achievable
My story to tell is like most few ever told
It began on one late night, a walk alone in the cold
From afar beneath the cloak of total darkness
From henceforth arose my redemption from coyness
A portrait work of God’s intellect and perfection
Her appearance flaunts in blissful ignition
Nature’s gift hardly to reject
And by acceptance, patiently unwrap and inspect
Elizabeth by name, in her prime of life
Swore I to champion her test, master in all strife
Failing is an option potion to auction for glory
In such stature of her nature, I offer my best act honorary
Seasons washed ashore, the bonding mightier
The relationship happier and healthier
My queen no longer was one but two
By an act profound, her being two only takes two
A charming prince forth joins the family
Merrily and happily, the family chants joy so lively
Having my queen trust and love
Seeing my prince smile out of love
My greatest joy definable by no records
Descriptive by means of no words
I sense that there are stories
Bigger and more grand
than I can comprehend
That I'm a part of somehow
But I only see this
Cooking my lunch
Clipping my nails
Thinking of unpaid bills
And unwashed dishes
Feeling smaller still
With no heroic deeds
Just living my life
Utterly normal indeed
Is this my story?
They packed us in ships and boats.
Sardines have more space in their cans as compared to us,
Low ventilation, no water, little food,
Out of our land of abundance, land of riches, land of gold,
We sailed off to the land unknown,
‘Door of No Return’, that was the last door I saw in my homeland.
With shackles on our necks, ankles and wrists, we were led sheepishly to the ship,
When we complained, they lashed us, when we rebelled, they killed us,
And the weak amongst us; they were maltreated.
My sister was force raped yesterday; it’s my fiancée’s turn today,
We were supposed to get married last Sunday,
“I’ve been shot in one knee”, an Old Norse slang,
I’m married; I was going to tell my friends,
But the sun sure didn’t smile on me on Sunday,
Now in a new land, new soil, we’re auctioned like some merchandise,
I thought they only wanted our gold, or was it not enough; the additional cocoa,
Now we work on their plantations, from dawn until dusk,
We’re forced to speak the Whiteman’s language,
We’re forced to eat their food and dress like them,
And the very thing that make us Africans; our pride, It’s been taken from us,
So I wonder the kind of future that lies ahead for our unborn generations,
I wonder if our rich values, our norms, our traditions,
I wonder if they would be passed down to them,
Africa, my story.
What makes us beautiful is not color,
But just a handsome heart and an effulgent cerebrum,
So as much as we dwell in this world,
We are one blood each with only a soul,
So folks let’s stroll away from our domains,
To the palatial planet we dwell in,
Which has different races; Caucasian, Mongolian, Negroid among others,
With different ambient, languages and ethos!
But that doesn’t halt us from drinking from the same river,
Because we are all Jehovah’s semblance!
And we are all children of the earth,
Who didn’t choose our own races,
Neither did our parents nor great grandparents!
So let’s just fuse as kin and kith,
No matter where we are, or come from,
We are all coherent!
We are one blood.
We are all human beings,
Who have souls and shadows!
And we all pass on,
When it’s our time to rest in peace!
Africa, America, Antarctica, Asia, Australia and Europe
We are one,
And we wear the same uniform.
Colors are just layers
Tumbled into this world head first.
Knowing not what was in store.
Along the way some bubbles burst.
Yet on this journey I found my core.
First years were filled with pain and grief.
Lost child was I with no direction.
Seemed I'd never be granted relief.
I was so hungry for love and affection.
As I grew up the colder I got.
Took myself down a rocky road.
Still there were many visions sought.
Yet couldn't shake off this heavy load.
Time spent in shadows then turned to dawn.
As life rolled on so much was learned.
Soon a lot of the pain was gone.
Calm set in ,the right bridges were burned.
Now love surrounds me as does laughter.
I've found peace and also strength.
Finally know what I'm dancing after.
A road like this takes lots of length.
written 4/16/2015
for Bio of a Poet contest
My story
Began with sorry
Its chapters
Were written of worry
I am not in hurry
Because the end still is query
My hearts been chopped, sliced and grated
By everybody who has hated
The way my life has been going
True feelings never showing
Hiding all the pain down deep
A happy smile tryna keep
Up the illusion it don't hurt
How I get treated like dirt
I can't help the way I am
Why can't others understand
I'm not a geek, loser or nerd
But my whole life I have heard
Remarks so derogatory
Take the time to know my story
Why I don't drink or do drugs
Then you'd change your words to hugs
Opening your heart and eyes
Finally you would realize
This little girl who raised herself
Without any kind of help
Is gonna stay drug free and clean
Alcohol will not be seen
In her body, I refuse
To be put through the abuse
Like other people from my past
Respecting myself and this task
An Immigrant Hymn (my story against Trump)
Must be difficult, to unlearn,
Everything you once knew,
New ways quickly learn,
A different way accept as true.
Must be difficult, to get used,
To faces white and black,
To internalize new skills and,
Master the foreign with an easy knack.
Must be difficult, more than the ways,
To tragically leave behind,
The feel of rainy tropical days,
Family and friends kind.
Must be difficult, to restart,
From the bottom of the ladder,
With your unusual accent part,
Keep memories from making you sadder.
But, yet you do it,
With great joy and pain,
To keep a promise to yourself,
Pursue happiness, hopefully NOT in vain!
By Ritu Saheb, AIA
(I first published this poem on Poemhunter in 2009)
My life has been a series of misfortunate events,
My string of bad luck gladly continues to persist,
Now above all I’m more than convinced,
Convinced that my transition into the adult life has commenced,
The girl you use to know should now be used in past pretense,
For I’ve given into things that I’m against,
And I’m almost positive that in the process I’ve lost a little bit of common sense,
So from that point on I’ve remained perplexed and tense.
I lost my dad at the age of 15,
And from that point on I understood what forgiveness means.
Forgiveness isn’t for the other person, it’s for you,
It’s an opportunity for you to start fresh and new,
And believe it or not, they can too.
I got sick after that and by the age of 18 the cause was known,
I wasn’t shocked nor was my mind blown.
It’s because I already knew,
Coincidently my battle scars define what I’ve gone through.
I’ve lived with anxiety my entire life and was finally diagnosed at the age of 21,
I tried every way to cheat death except by the use a gun,
I felt like I lost my definition of any and all types of fun.
Now I’m 21 going on 22,
And in my corner I keep a select trusted few,
With my life I’m still figuring out what I want to do,
Lights, camera, action on cue.
My story is not one of overnight sensation
It isn't even one that would get a standing ovation
No crowd cheering for another encore
No limos or screaming fans outside the door
My story is not one of great success achieved
If I told you it was so you would truly be deceived
No mountains of cash storing up in the bank
Sometimes not even enough fuel in my gas tank
My story is truly one of faith and trust in God
This journey I travel to some may seem quite odd
But it is through my faith that I find strength on a daily bases
And am able to ignore the penetrating looks on people's faces
My story is trust that God is with me wherever I may go
And He tells me I'm special to Him and this I'll always know
Don't need to be a star on earth cause I am in His eyes
No need for ego boosters cause God keeps me on the rise
My story is simple and plane to be told
I'll always choose Jesus over silver and gold
I'd rather have something that's truly guaranteed
Instead of something achieved purely through greed