Best Self Assured Poems
POTW 1 Oct 2018
Gossip about her
swept the school yard through
“Hey if you’ve got what it takes
There’s this girl named Sue
For a pack of smokes
or a drink or two
She’ll kiss you ~ she’ll please you
like no other girl can do”
Her fuchsia glossed lips
Matched the colour of her hair
Her legs went on forever
She had a self-assured flair
He yearned for those baby blues
to stray his way
How did the cool guys snare girls
come what may?
Dreams on his pillow
a teenage fantasy
Were seconds away from becoming
a manly reality
She promised to meet him
in the park one night
Two packs of Marlboro’s
Under the pale moonlight
A brief kiss on the lips
then as she swiftly turned to go
He yanked her back hard
and as she fell to the floor
A fantasy was shattered
Hopes tossed away ~ abused
Feelings of rejection
Cast aside and confused
He lived in an era
Where double standards
were applauded
Girls were shamed
For going all the way
Boys rewarded
However integrity
doesn’t stoop to lows
no need to impress
Head high as he walked
it was not worth the stress
The journey was his ~ along this untrodden road
Tomorrow ~ todays rejection would be yesterday’s episode
Every step away from her was a gentle elixir
Then came her words on the wind ~ barely a whisper
‘Hey ~ I’m a virgin too ~ and a skank I’m not
They sully my name and my character they blot
The smokes are for my mum it eases her pain
And for my sick Ma I’ll do this again and again’
Continued in 'Tears on her pillow'...
I thought I would go backwards
Into my uncertain
My awkward
The days of my wondering
What will I be when I grow up?
Will I ever grow up?
Is everyone better than me?
Boy I wish I could be more like that
That guy
Yep him
The athletic confident one
Words come so easy to him
Jokes flow freely from his lips
And they laugh
They love being with him
What's it like to be that self assured?
He has so many friends
None of them would ever talk to me
What would it be like to hang out with the cool kids?
I try telling myself
It doesn't matter
I have a few friends
I want it to be enough
I think it's enough
With them
I imagine and pretend
To be funny
Interesting
Until
One smile
One chuckle at a time
I gradually become me
A better more confident self
Assured
Witty
A lover of words
Dialogue
Conversation
I talk my way towards my future
While listening for clues
Building myself two by twos
Real friends are the ones I choose
Their words
Teach me about them and myself
I don't hide on lonely street
There are more people to meet
So I jump up off my seat
Rewrite myself on many a sheet
Until I can follow and hear my internal beat
Do what needs doing
Repeat and repeat
Until I come to here and now
Breathless with WOW
Understanding HOW
That uncertain and awkward part
Changed everything
It still is
And
Always
Will be
An important part of me
Because it helped me see
There are many many
Incredible
Significant and individual
ways to be
So now I choose
Care Free!
You, who are so perfect in my eyes, so beautiful- adorable, and I, so flawed, ugly, damaged and crawling with defects; why do you enjoy my company?
You, who are so sleek and slender, humming with a quiet intellect and a serenity about you, and I, so grossly overweight and pretentiously boastful and nervous; how can you abide my company?
You, who are a paragon of patience, so understanding and self-assured, and I, so insanely impulsive, so myopic and brimming with self-doubt; how do you stand my company?
You, who are so sweet, so considerably kind, so thoughtful and generous, and I, so bitter, so selfish, so self-absorbed; why do you choose my company?
You, who are so self-composed, full of self-control, so sound and stable, and I, so very neurotic, so completely compulsive and verily volatile; how can you tolerate my company?
You, who are so diligent, so driven and ambitious, so achieving, and I, so lackadaisically lazy, so uninspired, so complacent; why do you settle for my company?
You, who are ethical, so moral, so very virtuous, and I, so corrupt, so unprincipled, so wholly wicked; how can you endure my company?
You, who are so normal, so well-adjusted, so conventional, and I, so maniacal, so unbalanced and irrational; why do you condone my company?
You, who are bubbling with charm, who loves unconditionally and is absolutely accepting, and I, boiling with rage, fueled by misanthropy and incredibly intolerant; how can you welcome my company?
That you love and accept me for who and what I am, is a treasure beyond measure. I cherish your company, but why you cherish mine is something I cannot fathom. All I know is that I love you, my dear, beloved friend.
**This was written for two very dear friends: Karen and Tommy :)
***I also love palindromes ;)
*****FREE VERSE OLD AND NEW ENTRY
Pantheress on the Prowl
She stalks her prey like a pantheress
on the prowl, confident and self-assured as
she glides into the room. She’s squeezed
into a low cut, body hugging, ruby
red satin wiggle dress, wearing silky black
stockings and patent leather stilettos, exuding unbridled
sensuality, the epitome of sexuality and desirability…
she stalks her prey like a pantheress.
Note: This poem was inspired by the Rock N’ Roll song, “"Maneater” by Hall and Oates released in 1982.
(Form – Enjambment posted as Verse – 8 lines with 7 words in each line.
The 1st line and the 8th line are the same)
12-04-2014
It is a fact that before I wrote True Colours,
I was stuck in a world of black and white bipolar,
encaged in my seat on a non stop rollercoaster,
eating one meal a day cooking bread in a toaster.
Do you know if from here I should.....
Nope wait, if it was you then would....
No I hesitate, before I wasn't sure I could
write so shall I carry on with doubt I'm good.
Should I continue to write?
Stick at it and improve I could?
Would I get better each night?
It's tricky to know if I'm good.
I wish for a talent but it's not apparent,
it's something I want but maybe I haven't.
I'm a thoughtful fighter
with a physical dominance,
who puts pen to paper
with a mental confidence.
The anxiety causes stress
and that makes me a messy mess too,
nonetheless I guess all I can do,
is pursue hopelessness whilst I continue
to harness this writing skill and improve,
while I remain myself and stay true,
or I could give up what do I choose?
It's amazing how the praise can make me lazy,
and all because the bar was raised.
To think that that's where it remains is crazy,
without the application my skill decayed.
Living off past glories and falsely self assured,
hides the fact the present leaves them bored.
The reward is forgotten without consistency
and the reputation plummets into history.
You need to bounce from test to test like a ball,
contest with the very best and prove you're no fool,
then you must not allow the standards to fall,
you must allow a new hunger to be installed.
I continuously doubt what I am all about,
I'm a drought that sprouts limited amounts,
it's the same bounce of the ball in all my bouts,
my mouth shouts in repetition and I've lost count.
I continuously doubt what I'm all about,
I'm constantly worried and living in doubt,
I'm in a black hole will I ever get out,
I continuously doubt so that's what I'm about.
Why would I refuse to continue after I didn't refuse to begin.
I am patently smitten
With utmost contempt ,they treat any mention of its reality
The realm of the illusory is its permanent abode
Its at best transient , an ephemeral indulgence ,
A violet on a morbid pathway
The ill-fated roadside plant whose demise is lurking in the shadows.
A facade ,an imaginary concept birthed out of delusion and denial
Disapproval and detest permiate the dense air
whenever the subject comes up
The thickness ,stifling the atmosphere of any remaining residues of hope
Intense apprehension carved from a litany of painful experiences
But what's the essence of life if not the defiance of history? -
The obliteration of barriers thought impervious?,
The ******** of walls long believed
to be figments of overambitious imaginations ?,
The charting of venturesome trails in the perilous jungle?
Don't you just love it when you see tables turn ?
Isn't it a sight to cherish when the applecart gets upset?
I am utterly smitten ,
by that penetrating ,self assured gaze -Impeccable as ever
Cascading through my being like African okra in an enamel plate
Fluid and engrossing
The ravishing smile , aggressively addictive ,
which almost always succeeds in changing the climate in my spine
The lips which drip unfettered mellifluousness,
A song without want of both depth and sweetness
Something that only such a golden soul can exude
The archetype of perfection ..
Like a gazelle in the Savanna plains ,
grace and elegance attends her gait always
This is where even the most intransigent hearts ,
are rendered malleable and ductile
And utter patency becomes the heart's portion
“I’m Still Here”
When you see me now,
I’m the same person inside
That I was when I gave birth to you
Oh, so many years ago.
I don’t hear what you say sometime.
I don’t understand your meanings sometime.
I don’t see the same things that you see sometime.
I don’t articulate as well as I once did,
But I’m still here.
My legs are not as steady as they once were
When I chased after you on a sunny day in the park.
My hands are not as strong,
As when they bandaged and kissed your adolescent scrapes.
My resolve is not as great as when I clutched you to my breast
When you were crying and afraid.
Whether you recognize it or not,
I’m still here – the same Me inside,
Not as vibrant, not as self-assured, not as sure of herself,
But the same person…inside,
The same person who would be first at your door
If you needed me for as long as I could.
Yes, I’m still here,
The same woman who still clutches to those far-away memories
That renew my joy when I see you now.
You are, and always will be, a severed part of me
That is moving now in a different direction.
I forget some things that are important to you now,
But I remember trivial little things that we shared years and years ago.
I reside now mostly in our past preparing for that time when you
Will no longer be within my reach, nor I in yours.
I shelter the memories now of when you were a child,
And you were the light of my life, and I was yours.
Yes, I am still the same person inside –
A little less vibrant,
A little slower, perhaps,
A little more distant,
A little more far removed.
But I’m still here…
with the same depth of love still beating inside,
And I will always be with you.
05-29-17
j. b. pearce
I can see us kicking around in our old hometown
Where the pylons buzzed crackling with dampness
Into the open cast crust of the iron ground;
And as I recall there was never a time that felt as cool
Or as real and full of youth and life as when I
Would meet you walking home from school;
You were a smile and ponytail vision even then,
The laughing, almond eyes that teased and mock admonished,
Until, on parting, I could hardly wait to see you again;
Even though you barely tip-toed on the erotic verge of womanhood
Even though you had only just turned sixteen,
You shone with the self-assured presence of a life-long beauty queen.
I can still see us hanging around in our old hometown
Where days were as spun gold threads, the weave of months,
When the sun in the endless summer sky shone down;
And as I recall there was never a time that felt quite so fine
As when I kissed your lips and tasted their pinkish dew
And you kissed the fading tobacco of mine;
We seemed to have forever and a day way back when,
And those days and nights seemed so full of meaning,
Immortalised in our minds as if they could never end;
Now, even though it was so long ago and so long past
I see you fresh and clear, and your looks that could almost kill,
For you burned with eternal beauty that fires and haunts me still.
In the depths of the soul, a precious treasure lies,
A beacon of light that never truly dies.
It's the essence of strength, a flame burning bright,
A testament to one's worth, an unwavering might.
Self-respect, a virtue held dear,
A cornerstone of life, crystal clear.
With every step taken, head held high,
The heart whispers a resolute sigh.
No longer defined by others' cruel gaze,
No longer entrapped in society's maze,
For within, a knowing, a sacred flame,
A self-assured spirit, forever untamed.
In the face of adversity, a resilient stance,
A dignified bearing, a confident dance.
Boundaries set, firmly etched in stone,
No compromise on values, one's truest tone.
For self-respect demands a gentle care,
Nurturing the soul, tending with love and flair.
Embracing flaws, accepting imperfection,
Forging a path to authentic reflection.
It's finding solace in one's own embrace,
Celebrating uniqueness, no need to chase
The approval of others, for deep inside,
Lies a treasure trove, a wellspring of pride.
Self-respect is the armor, a shield in strife,
Empowering the spirit to embrace life.
With reverence for self, we learn to believe,
That we're deserving of love, and yes, we can achieve.
So let self-respect be our guiding light,
A beacon that shines through darkest night.
In its gentle embrace, we find our way,
To a life of purpose, each and every day.
The poison parrot is repulsed by me, hates my art, laughs at my poems.
sneers when I enter my imaginary world, pokes fun at it.
She throws roadblocks into my mood zone,
destroys my great ideas as fast as they enter my dendrite alley.
You think you are something! Ha! She laughs. You are less than nothing.
No one will like that. It is too sassy, too bright, too snotty, too tall, too snarly.
She snips away at me, chopping little pieces off, as I try not to cry.
You are an idiot! She yells at me, her favorite pastime.
Poison Parrot managed to hold me down, away from myself, for years.
She held me hostage in a prison I helped her build; I cowered in a scared way.
Until I met Savior Boy. Savior Boy did not know about Poison Parrot, for when
I was around him, I was confident, witty, sassy, fun,
out-going and memorably lovely.
He let me do his homework, and he received good grades,
praising me to high heaven.
The closer we became. the more self-assured I became,
assertive genius oozed out of me.
Poison Parrot was fearful now, she saw she was losing her grip.
She began yelling louder than ever.
“You are an idiot! You are worthless! You are a loser!”
I stopped hearing her. Savior Boy’s love and respect helped me
to clip her wings, and tape her beak.
By the time our children arrived, I had re-invented my self-talk.
I was now being talked to by Sophie,
a dynamic, self-assured, marvelous pixie queen who
believed in herself, and everyone else.
I released Poison Parrot and let her limp away,
saving no face at all, after Sophie arrived.
Plucking the Poison Parrot Number 156
Written: 1-6-2019 Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy
Now she's here
and now she's there,
flittering and flying
through the hours in a day,
laughing now, then crying.
Her moods are fleeting,
they grasp her in a flash
then just as fast they fizzle
like a firework in the rain.
Would that she were constant
like the moon!
self-directed, self-assured,
without a care,
but she is wayward,
ever flickering,
fluttering,
floundering,
more there than anywhere.
A stranger
Odd
Sad
Quirky
Unwelcome
Ignored
Once extended a courtesy
Cannot do enough
For her new friend
Stranger no more
Odd means unique
Sad is empathetic
Quirky translates to self-assured.
Unwelcome is ignored.
Best friends are born!
Written 9-11-2018 Mid September 2018 Any Form Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
When I looked up at you the other night
I saw you coming through the door
Framing it with your amazing smile
steadfast, self assured, a happy man
A happy Dutch life with Irish sea-kissed roots
Not just a European but a world class man
As you stood before me, I felt such pride.
When I think of you, I see my little boy blue
Forever young, blond mop, those winsome sky eyes
my spry child, intelligent, forever questioning
hyperactive, mischievous, a little dare devil
your smile, a mile wide in times of trouble
I see you holding your teddies Ruby and Rupert
Tractors, diggers, broken engines brrrrrrrmm.
Your love of engines, paid off after all
as you shifted gear to driving instruction
For a guy who showed no interest in being a scholar
Now you are the teacher, with a flurry of pupils
I think it works better, this way around.
Your greatest gift is your love for people
Your greatest asset, your winning smile
Keep on living and loving as you do
You view life through a positive lens
Becoming a mother hit me with a new perspective
An appreciation of life, when I gave you yours
Together we grew, and continue to grow
In love and respect, now and forever.
My Sarah
When I looked at you last week trying on your new boots
Those almond eyes sparkling at something new, a gift
I saw my little pink girl, a princess, playing dress up again
Your long hair draped your high cheekbones
Life still a game, tinged with drama and theatre
As you look for fun in all your pursuits!
A player in life with a passion for cooking and music
You have become a kind, loyal, vivacious young woman
Self assured, grounded with a love of tradition
I looked at you and felt an overwhelming pride.
Sunday’s child is ' bonny, blithe, good and gay' they say
Befitting my Sabbath girl, a model child of few demands
Your bedroom a vast sea of Barbie and friends
A Passion for story-time and books
Your Dutch life with Irish sea-touched roots,
You are a real continental
A great scholar with degrees in Law and Psychoanalysis
You have found your true love with Luis, a Spaniard
As you both prepare to leave the Emerald Isle
I wonder at the achievement of you!
Please, do not cry for me when I am dead
No promise is given when we are born
This world always confused my eyes, my head
and I entered it blind, angry and torn
My judgments where based on my own design
Twisted paths chosen, my body ventured
Something searched for with direction to align
Allowed my thoughts to become self assured
To have seen this world of beauty and death
and struggled with insanity of mankind
Rather I seek peace in the quietest breath
As the flames rise daily from the hate I find
When last breath of death comes no tears will fall
As I failed to change the world after all