In dancing, as experienced by my eyes,
I see figures of beauty and of grace,
in steps, choreographed or improvised,
moving rhythmically through space;
but, as I see others, I become aware
that others may set eyes on me as well,
another circumstance, altogether,
as they see a homely man without hair,
not an Arthur Murray clientele,
and much heavier than a feather.
Yet, by replacing sight with other senses,
I find it was my eyes that did impede,
with self-conscious, self-constructed fences,
but now, my joyous spirit has been freed,
and I can connect, engage, and hear,
as my body, merges with the sound
of the rhythm and the melody,
and my feet, my heart, my soul, my ear,
lose themselves as I twirl madly round -
thankful that I can no longer see.
He wrote a bible every day,
a poem without beginning or foreseeable end,
yet like the New Testament
they were the work of his inner Jesus
the same Jesus journey that we all eventually take.
His poetic steps along the way were not usually sacred,
often far from it,
but they inched his soul-conscious self
toward a certain resurrection and ascension
nevertheless.
Seeker, cease looking outside of you,
know thy self, scribe,
believe in the God within you,
create your own heaven –
your Christ awaits.
there once was a woman named Mimi
she never would wear a bikini
when she was asked why
she didn’t blink an eye
said, “I’ve eaten too much linguine!”
She's past the point in her healing process where her heart doesn't feel quite as tattered and raw.
She's used to the fact that her daily routine has changed, and has accepted that when her phone chirps, it no longer signals that it's him.
The times of the day that used to be spent with him have been replaced with conscious self-care and self-healing practices.
The struggle to resist reaching out is less intense and less frequent.
Indeed, she is starting to notice some progress, and that not-so-long-ago feeling of
unfamiliarity is not quite as strange.
But that doesn't mean she no longer thinks of him.
She still feels the loss.
She still sheds tears.
She still has moments that pull at her heartstrings and bring her to her knees.
And she still wonders...
If this is how their story ends.
July 14, 2021
I had a moment of weakness
And the tears came on suddenly
I was afraid they'd feel like they used to
Back in that place that I didn't want to be
I thought the worst of my healing was over
Water under the bridge, we'd made amends
But when the intensity of that moment enveloped me
It gave me doubts about where I had been
I allowed the emotion to wash through me
Conscious self-care, again, my true best friend
I needed some gentle space between us
A restful nap was like a Godsend
It's not that you did anything wrong
You are single, free to do as you please
And as much as I'd like things to be different
My struggle is me, remembering my place
I don't expect you to understand
I don't want you to feel sorry for me
It's just that you are the reason
When my emotions get the better of me
Maybe it took this moment of weakness
To remind me there's still work to be done
That the process of healing is not linear
And not to discredit about how far I've come
Yes, my healing heart is still tender
It needs to repair one moment at a time
Allow tears to shed some perspective
Embrace my weakness as grace in disguise
January 17, 2021
A ghost began whispering inside the soul's echo
there one Trojan horse enters defeated
spiritually the battle ground stands firmly fixed
against those whom denounce the King
misery will follow with disastrous events
Where human rights are exploited through chaos
quarrelsome beggars deny the basic truth to explain
Backfiring liars have a burning desire to bring conflict
Unequally self ordained gods of little value without hope
they try to influence the battle results
ignoring this backward omen leading to terrible infighting
warfare has the mentality that's deeply incorporated this motivating force
where sorrow beats down by force the anger deeply within us
.
Now I shall go, to overtake that killer of a dear life
into one's conscious self
our mortal undying glory rises or falls
quick to the mark snaps the rawhide strap
For today's poem, I tried something new. I opened up 10 Random pages from George Orwell's 1984 and picked up the first word that I saw and tried to create a poem out of them. These 10 words are as follows:
Conscious, Permanently, Small, Curious, Open, Reflex, Cigarette, Peddle, Wonder, Twig.
..............................................................................
'Curious, how a certain place can take you to a distinct memory and when you are there, it feels as if it never happened.'
The conscious self
Questioning its
Worth,
As to why the
Twig of solitude
Cracked and
Fell.
The cigarette butts
And the smell of
Smoke,
Telling a story
That they
Were here.
Oh! My small,
Fragile heart,
Peddle away,
For this land
Is no longer
Your haven.
Open up and
Break the
Shackles-Permanently,
Never to look
Back.
Wait here,
Look at
the ruins
And stop
Wondering
Why.
Collective Unconsciousness
yet there are voices with choices
life can make you think
through the notion of a sphere
let's its member draw near
for I shed a single tear to numb the inner pain
yet still dig deeper then ever before
a challenge to be free is a quest of time
still we must all come together
a shoulder to cry as your draw nearer
no one thinks hard anymore no one has a voice
to walk along a journey of a path
darkened columns of hue yet nothing new
we have bitten off far more then we could ever chew
running through circles its the totality of the human experience
its in the history of humanity the ghosts
not merely our own personal experiences
It is distinguished from the personal unconscious, which is unique to each human being.
It has a better sense of the self ideal than the ego or conscious self has
Scientists have made studies that we use a small portion of our brains
lest I humbly refrain from the truth explained
maybe its in some twisted ways getting caught in a purple haze
re-post inspired by Debbie's contest
We like sheep have gone astray,
if He marked our transgressions
who would stand.
Tempted,ofttimes
tormented,self-conscious,self-
seeking missing the mark;stepping
over the line,impulsive,doing what
we do want to do.
Encouraged into
doubt,we deceive ourselves,listening
to the father of lies,’Til the Holy Spirit
convict us of this sin.
CONFESSION
We like sheep have gone astray,
if He marked our transgressions
who would stand.Tempted,ofttimes
tormented,self-conscious,self-
seeking missing the mark;stepping
over the line,impulsive,doing what
we do want to do.Encouraged into
doubt,we deceive ourselves,listening
to the father of lies,’Til the Holy Spirit
convict us of this sin.Absolved by the
Saviour’s sacrifice I turn back again,
for I know whom I have believed,and
together we walk on.
Listen to me recite this on youtube
CONFESSION
We like sheep have gone astray,
if He marked our transgressions
who would stand.Tempted,ofttimes
tormented,self-conscious,self-
seeking missing the mark;stepping
over the line,impulsive,doing what
we do want to do.Encouraged into
doubt,we deceive ourselves,listening
to the father of lies,’Til the Holy Spirit
convict us of this sin.Absolved by the
Saviour’s sacrifice I turn back again,
for I know whom I have believed,and
together we walk on.
Listen to me read my Christian Structured Prose on youtube
when music associations
hinder your daily cultural existence and evolution,
you cringe at the sound of a lyric.
heart breaks just a bit,
like a rotting house,
cracking,
yearly reaching an inch,
and over time,
accelerating in speed.
but then you come to a hault,
a conscious self identifying conclusion,
that in fact you might, just might,
get the **** over it.
you do.
you then find yourself,
singing the tune,
inside your brave skull.
hmmm hm hm hm mm m
ooooouuuu yea.
thank you.
when your inner self is diverse into questions left unanswered,reasons why you will not
allow your true conscious self to explore these questions, fear or acknowledgment of
confidence suppressed due to misguided strength that purposely is suppressed,this knowledge
which should only expand and not hinder,but does do to inner-self defiance one can only
conclude that they are torn.
Hyima chandler
It isn’t the things that you think you are,
That make you upset with yourself,
It is the things that others see,
That challenge your conscious self.
I can’t forget on a day like this,
The words that flowed so easily,
White oleander as charged,
Two words that dug right into me.
How easily you judge me,
With your self righteous convictions,
But what you see in me is you,
And all of your devious intentions.
A product of my environment,
Brought up by a poisonous flower,
What am I to be if you are all I see,
As each day passes with the hours.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.