FANNING THE FLAMES
I was heavy
Weighed down
And buried by Judgment
Unintentional but hurtful just the same
Expectations of who I should be
As a daughter
As a Catholic
As a wife
As a colleague
By men
Fearful, yet domineering
Oh, the irony
That your insecurity has fueled my power
Fed the tiny coals that the women in my life
Have protected
Fanned them into flames
Fed the fire in my belly
Ignited my strength and resolve
Given birth to my voice
I am woman.
I liberate myself.
Hear me thunder!
And growl, and rage, and shout
I will no longer be judged, dismissed, hidden—
or silenced.
Cuckoo's
Wild call at dawn,
Hiding in mango trees,
Stealing a nest that isn't hers,
Smart bird!
Copyright © 2026 by Crystal David John
confident people do not measure their worth
or their accomplishments or their ideas
by anyone else’s feats or standards
confident people live their lives pleasing themselves
excited to do things their way
they are bold and brazen, living their truth
doing what they want to do when they want to do it
confident people are a delight
Boy elf had no problems being proud of himself
He felt confident the day he popped off the shelf
Feeling enthusiastic, truthful, marvelous and fine.
He went to the kitchen to taste a bit of wine.
The cork was arguing, but he popped it and threw it away.
His confidence was oozing, he was not taking no that day.
Boy elf had a fine feast made from wine, and cheese.
He did what he wanted, as whimsical as a summer breeze.
seriously, anybody
strangers on the street
i'm opening the car window
and smiling at other drivers,
teeth and everything,
through the busy and bustling town centre
i am making the most of my connectivity
and improving the public realm.
the 1870s were years of disillusion.
but this is confidence.
the teeth are a summation of all that i
have achieved, no teeth epitomises
more splendidly the qualities the world admires;
i say goodbye to my charisma vacuum,
and laugh at a joke that doesn't exist.
Shirley is a confident seven-year-old
with sky blue eyes and fantastic natural curly ginger hair
her curls walk ahead of her
they are outstandingly pretty
today she is dressed in casual kaki pants
with matching sneakers and a huge leopard polka dotted bow
a matching purse is slung over her shoulder
she has no idea how adorable she is
a walking picture that others appreciate
her second-grade classmates surround her
they like everything about her
especially her confidence
Shirley fearlessly stands up for everybody
she takes pride in wearing mismatched clothes
comfort takes precedence over fashion
her favorite shirt is a soft material from Scotland
she wore it until it fell off of her
her go-to-jacket has daisies on an orange background
the slacks she wears are full of embroidered butterflies
she looks artistic, eccentric, and eclectic.
some people have tried to know her.
she keeps herself concealed
an artist who seeks the approval of one
herself
The smile we wear on our face—
it isn’t designed by us,
it’s a part of who we are.
But why do some people
chase the artistic smile—
the perfect one,
teeth gleaming like a fountain
surrounded by white mist
and the sound of birds?
Instead, they mock the smiles
that bloom naturally,
making others feel insecure,
guilty even—
as if their smile
has committed a crime.
They hide their laughter,
seal their lips tight,
because of a careless word—
a word that can glue a smile shut.
We call their smiles “crazy,”
but do we even know
how to smile perfectly?
Is there a law that says
we must laugh a certain way?
No—
we have no right to judge.
If nothing else,
let’s not mock the smiles
that make the world
a little more human.
I am a growing spirit of well-being dancing in the melody of my own song
An illuminating light finally beginning to shine
within what was once the darkest corners of my experiences
Created perfectly imperfect but not the definition of past mistakes
Emerged from an abyss of mental instability where sought after peace is no longer searched for, it has been found
I am an expansion of thought
The rebirth of a new mind
Understanding that the existence of pleasure and pain are necessary encounters to help balance out the life in which all have been chosen to live
I am the living proof of nothing short of a miracle
Where my dreams have embraced reality and reality became my dream.
You will Never again cause me
doubt in believing
Admitting your emotions had
purpose and no meaning
Looking closer I understand
my running
Going forward and No hope
Believing
Amazing people you fake
care and destroy
I pray barriers surround your
false words of friendship
I am Stronger thank you,
Your energy gone
Reward is inner truth and
more confident
She was well-versed in writing,
With words which touches the heart more than the pierce of a nose ring,
Her characters are bold,
With a nature both haughty and cold.
Elizabeth did find her Darcy at last,
Though she did not explore him much,
Like finding a piece of creamy cake after hours of fast,
And finding someone who is one such!
She wrote at a time when much women could not,
Thirsty for expressing - like the oozing blood from a cut without getting clot.
The treepie was confident and cocky, walking my fence
Tottering and tittering to himself, in a bravado-like manner
He was a handsome bird, his colors painted in compartments
Yellows, blacks, whites; he looked distinguished like a penguin
They both wear a tuxedo-like feather pattern
Carolyn Lee, a quirky artist, befriended me
She did everything with a bucket of glee
Best of all, her friendship was free
I learned a lot from Carolyn Lee.
She played art well, with a tee hee hee
Always laughing and beautifully
Other people’s criticism she did not hear or see
She was super confident, Carolyn Lee.
Why don’t you come paint with me?
She asked me with her usual kind of glee.
I wanted to, and the paint was free.
But I was intimidated by Carolyn Lee.
From our connection with Native Nations…
the first people to walk this land…
comes three bits of wisdom
that have to do
with the way we stand….
The first one sets the tone:
May we be be strong enough to stand alone…
The second…comes from our heart:
May we be confident to stand apart…
And the third will help us any storm to weather:
May we be wise enough to know
when to stand together.
Don’t quit writing… keep your pen rolling.
There are poetic angels here, who keep you going!
Even if you can only comment to five poets a day,
Live your life, too, do not let poetry steal your days.
I create poems, the only way I possibly can..
I choose not to comment to the entire family of man.
But….if you can….I encourage you to go for it.
Find what works for you, and swim in the joy of it!
I/19/2021
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