Long Self acceptance Poems
Long Self acceptance Poems. Below are the most popular long Self acceptance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self acceptance poems by poem length and keyword.
?
John Keats - I continue to adore Keats's lush, sensuous language and his odes to beauty, nature, and love, which can deeply resonate with some of my own poetry's yearning and delicacy.
Emily Dickinson - Dickinson's quiet intensity and exploration of death, eternity, and inner life has appeal to my introspective side.
She and I share a fierce independence of spirit and a love for solitude.
Edna St. Vincent Millay - I admire Millay's bold, feminist voice and her exploration of desire and independence.
Millay's mastery of sonnet form and ability to capture the fleetingness of passion has after multiple readings come to resonate with me.
Pablo Neruda - Known for his passionate love poems and deep connection to nature, Neruda has come to enchant me with his visceral imagery and emotional honesty.
His poems about the natural world might feel like kin ship to me, my own.
Mary Oliver - I feel at home in Oliver's reflective, nature-based poetry.
I have come to love Oliver's reverence for the world, finding in it a continuation of her own themes of beauty and spiritual communion with nature.
Sylvia Plath - I would definitely appreciate Plath's courage in delving into the complexities of self, identity, and mental struggle.
While my tone of poetry has now through evolution grown more gentler, I feel a kinship in Plath's exploration of one's inner life.
Rainer Maria Rilke - With his mystical tone and contemplative exploration of love and solitude, Rilke would be a poet that I have come to admire.
His 'Letters to a Young Poet' would also resonate as advice one might give to aspiring poets.
Louise Glück - Known for her somber tone and introspective lyricism, Glück would fascinate me with her exploration of loss, longing, and family dynamics.
I admire Glück's precision and haunting imagery.
Langston Hughes - I would appreciate Hughes's musicality, social consciousness, and exploration of personal and collective identity.
His poems on love, hope, and perseverance would feel to me like hymns of survival and resilience.
Ada Limón - I would likely be drawn to Limón's modern voice and her intimate, conversational style that draws readers into an emotional landscape. Limón's poems of self-acceptance, connection to nature, and resilience would feel like a refreshing evolution of the lyricism that I have come to cherish.
a flustered tango of Gypsy moths
drumming the porchlight; chalk artists;
the endemic disappearance of farms—silos lost
in unkempt fields; space stations; the sunlit-scent of lemon
oil on cherry wood; birth; the chasm between cultural
appropriation & cultural appreciation; the history in our dust;
loneliness & heartbreak; trivia; funky funerals;
climate change, hurricanes, earthquakes & neglected
victims; heirloom charm bracelets, homemade
wind chimes & the homing sound made by a singing bowl;
masquerade balls; cityscapes hidden in ant hills; fly
fishing; serendipitous skinny dipping; missing children,
teddy bear memorials, forensic identification, monsters
never found in sleepy towns; the horrors of zoos—
elephants gone mad, lions robbed of their pride;
book reviews; civil unrest, bad cops & good cops & young men
gunned down; brand new fire stations; cancer survivors who wear
baldness so beautifully; my favourite pair of jeans; river rocks
found by dearest hands; a letter that can never be
received; joyful celebrations; incandescent dragonfly
dreams; twenty million at risk of starving to death;
wildflowers shaking pretty little heads;
misogyny disguised as religion; forgotten veterans who die
a bit more inside every day; the rainforest, shrinking;
saintly stoners & postulant prostitutes; toxic smog;
madmen with warheads; cheese cake & ice wine;
every personalized Kama sutra move & the God-given
ecstasy of body on body language; holding hands;
why one giggle can change everything; Thanksgiving
prayers; abandoned minefields, boy soldiers & devastating
amputations; the songs of the working poor; lightning
over the lake; his timely phone calls; brotherhood & sisterhood;
love in its every form; old maps; twenty-one gun salutes;
the extinction of the Galapagos Giant Tortoise; being
five, being twenty five, being ninety-five; kites; dogs chawing
on ragged rawhide; church-like museums on a Sunday
afternoon; make-shift picnics; deja vu; thrift store
wedding dresses; long drives with comfortable silences;
fading freedoms; censorship; seamless moonlight;
introspective dalliances with self-acceptance; the power
of purpose; how to be the bigger person; how to go
in a new direction; how to rise above . . .
Once upon a time there never was an Ego
For it was alive by the breath of wishes of those who were suffocating from it
I carried the cross for being egoist
Had my hands nailed, had myself hailed
Confident rain was self-absorbed
Self-esteem felt the pain
Self-assertive had risen and reign
To conquer and succeed I was self-assured
That I too was not self-conscious
I never was an empty vessel 'cause I was self-contained
I couldn't handle to be self-effacing
Greatness was self-evident
People stand with me for being self-opinionated
For they cannot fall for self-pity
In the frame of success I see a self-portrait
Less of the devil for I was self-possessed
I had plans to be wealthy but not selfish
For my soul is sold to me
Once upon a time there never was an Ego
For it was alive by the breath of wishes of those who were suffocating from it
Created by mental act, a big head bloated by self-inflicted praise and external compliments
It is evident that its been hated that I've been Ahead (a head)
Its better if people held their breaths and never deliver compliments
Reduce the explosion of me being big headed
Or leave me alone with my good looks & big nose
And I remain breath taking
Taking away opinions and displaying facts
Handsome, good looking has never been the question
To answer attraction with confidence
As I walk confidently around big names, as big headed
As they speak unmoving words with no flames
My big name, amongst lame names,
I lament to their ineptitude
I have suffered the loudest noises of being tagged as arrogant
I now continue to walk boldly &
tramp on fingers of those who have cut their hands short not to applaud me
But what I say is Label me arrogant
Certify and stamp me as arrogant
Race for first place to call me too confident
And your opinion comes in at last place
At the finish line, my gold medal, my golden thoughts
My presence is victorious,
Make me a subject to you predicates
As a premier of self-acceptance
A victim & short-faller of your acceptance
A preface to ego
There never was Once upon on a time
But there was confidence, it always had its Ego
Crucify me for juggling your critics
Once upon an ego
Once upon a Me
Cos it was,has, and will always be about me and my Ego
Sometimes when I think of you, I think of how much I’m like you.
It’s ironic because I spent so much of my life thinking how different, how far apart we were. For some reason, I always sensed you didn’t like me very much. I think you loved me … it’s just that you didn’t like me as a person.
I know there were a few times that I felt your disapproval — when I wasn’t butch enough throwing the ball at a game; if I styled my hair a certain way; if my bell bottoms were too wide; if I spoke too softly.
Was I right? Did you feel that way, or was it just in my own head?
I guess I’ll never know. We talked before you died, but it wasn’t what I hoped it’d be. I told you that I loved you, and you probably did, too. But why is it that I can't remember those words coming from your lips. Still, it was nice getting real with you.
So I'll be a little more real: I’m gay.
My bad. I should have told you so that you could have gotten to know me better. But I was scared because I thought you’d like me even less.
Did you somehow know this? Did it make you feel uncomfortable around me? If it did, I understand. I was uncomfortable with it, too, and for a long time. Most of my life.
So, really, we’re very much alike. I didn’t like you because I thought you didn’t like me. Maybe we both didn’t like ourselves. Maybe that’s why we both became alcoholics. Maybe that’s why we both isolated … why we both wanted to be left alone rather than go out with friends, or take a trip, or start a new career.
I wish we didn’t have to spend our lives together like that. For the past five years, I’ve been on a journey of sobriety. It’s also a journey of self-acceptance, learning to love myself and also others for who they are — not who I think I want them to be.
One more thing. Even though you’re no longer on the planet, I sense your presence. Sometimes at night when I dream, you come to me and hug me, telling me that it’s all good, that you’re thrilled with me. Thrilled.
You’re good, too, dad. I love you, and I like you.
Love, Don
My secrets cry out in the silence of the night,
I have no need for a tongue to voice them,
My heart is an open temple,
My doors, wide portals.
An epic of deep gazes,
My love, without mask or facade.
My truths float in the ether,
This revealed, ravaged suffering.
I am stripped to the essence,
With my nakedness as an invisible shield.
I am what I wear in the spirits of my dreams,
I keep myself pure and simple, like a thread of light.
My fury will rage for eternity,
Deeds will carry the truth on unseen wings
In a mystical and pure language.
Stopping the lying mouth,
My rage turns the crystal-clear cry
Into a mute and infinite agony.
In the flow of consciousness, I travel through hidden realms,
Where each thought is a whisper of wind,
And every emotion a rainbow in the night.
Here, my heart is an open sanctuary,
Doors supported by columns of trials.
I see the universe through the eyes of pure truth,
My love is an undying flame, untouched by falsity.
My truths dance on the thin wire of eternity,
Reflecting in the mirror of my revealed soul.
In front of this stripped-down pain,
I am like the moon on a clear night, vulnerable and sincere,
But my nakedness becomes a stellar cloak,
An abyss of reflection and self-acceptance.
Wearing myself,
My spirit remains pure, essential.
Fury blooms like roses at sunset,
But truth transforms it, purifying it.
I cease the lying mouth,
Letting only the truth flow out of me,
My rage twists the pure cry
Into a timeless and transcendental agony.
Through this flow of consciousness,
I pass through valleys of desires and rivers of hidden hopes,
Where each pain finds a corner of the sky,
And every joy becomes an eternal star.
This sacred nudity, this shield of embraced vulnerability,
Is my path through the labyrinth of reflections and dreams,
Embracing my fury, letting it breathe in ascended prayers,
For in this dance of consciousness, we are
Not just poets of life, but also the astral witnesses
Of our own essence, wrapped in mystery.
aye savor the faire genetic blueprint
extant unique to each of us
with this quite alimentary aire
including (that almighty,
bottom, cushiony, dimpled,
excretory functioning Gluteus Maximus
i.e. the tushy when bare
with subtle difference sans,
both halves at first blush,
but tucks upon closer scrutiny
obvious inexactness crystal clear
as a bell jar, asper each body electric,
whence deserved of en dear
ments despite however much junk in the trunk
behind the private
no trespassing (non verbalized)
signs posted everywhere
off limits only to a select few like this bard
attired as if from the Renaissance Faire
whose unconditional acceptance
unlike the majority hoo gawk and glare
if bipedal hominid dealt
chromosomal traits say with excessive hair
which mane of tangled strands,
could be problematic and interfere
with coaxing, finagling,
or inducing friendship with an initial jeer
from him or her averse
toward such imperfection to boot
huff lawed physical human specimen
such as this ole coot
(who haint really that old),
can upon command execute
a feigned display
and appealing as fresh field picked fruit
at this stage of ma life
donut give a rats ass, nor an owlish hoot
what other may decry about me,
cuz self acceptance doth agree
buzzing with greater confidence, esteem,
and general weaknesses such
as lack of physiognomy incongruent cee,
which asymmetry of this primate feel free
er than his pre/post pubescent
corporeal essence he
near put himself in the hand
of that grim reaper, a key
poor of lifeless beings,
and well nigh got hold da mee
when in the throes up
(vis a vis not bulimia) on Swiss side prithee
and as a solitary mwm gives no re
guard no matter others may find fault
in the stars at my lack of sim mutt tree
gnome hatter judgements made
I accept mice elf warts and all – yippee!
I Believe
I believe in the teachings of Jesus
and the power of loving my neighbor.
I see us all as children of God—
my Creator, the Source of all life.
But I don’t confine my faith to a single name or cross.
I find peace in stillness,
a quiet zen in the rhythm of my breath.
I respect the wisdom of Buddhism,
though I walk no single path.
I aim to be present, moment by moment,
without rigid steps through the Tao.
I know myself as divine,
one with my Creator,
yet grounded in this human form—
giving thanks to the hands that made me.
I am made of earth and stardust,
animated by love,
etched with scars.
I believe in transformation—
not through striving,
but through radical self-acceptance.
We were never meant to be the same.
In our differences, we create balance.
I welcome opposing views
as windows to growth,
curious about your beliefs,
your lens on life.
If you're right,
that doesn't make me wrong—
it simply expands the way we see.
Yes, some views may mislead,
but that's not up to me to judge.
You're on your path.
I'm on mine.
Why waste time with resentment?
What matters is this:
how I treat myself,
how I love others,
how I guard my peace.
Let me choose where I find understanding.
Let others feel what they feel—
if it ruins their day,
that’s their weight to carry.
I won’t flatter to fit in,
won’t fight to defend.
That’s not strength—
that’s giving in.
Instead, I stay true
to the quiet voice within
who remembers who I am.
Let’s make a pact, right here, right now:
to prioritize our souls.
To release shame and silence fear—
not just for ourselves,
but for all of us.
Let’s carve our own paths,
become our own authorities.
No more finger-pointing,
people-pleasing,
shrinking to fit where we were never meant to belong.
We deserve to feel fully,
to be wholly seen.
Because I am enough—
just as I am.
And so are you.
We are all human.
We are all healing.
This is for anyone who was ever rejected by their family. It is a deep wound and it's challenging to overcome. But healing is a process and you are loved and cared for by God and His Angels.
I have a family member who was born gay in the 1950s, when it was even more challenging than it is today. He was beaten by his father and really struggled with his identity and self-acceptance. He never managed to live his life freely and with self-love. It's a sad and moving story, and I wish I could've changed this experience for him; but that would require a time machine and a few miracles.
Let's be free of judgement and prejudice. Let's love and accept each other for our magnificent light and humanhood. No one is truly better than another, no matter what we think or feel.
Remember: The Universe needs you. You're special and a blessing.
I am worthy
By Michelle Morris
30/03/2023
You're my parents
You brought me into this world
I'm a part of your family
You're part of my soul
We're connected
Through time and space
Through our soul contracts
Our relationship and soul lessons
As I grew older
Developed into myself
I realised that I
Was different from others
But I knew of your bias
Your fears and bigotry
And realised that my
Authentic self was hideous
To you, to our family
And it made me insecure
About where I stood
In this big, big world
The lesson I had to learn
Was to love myself
For who I am
No matter the doubt
For I am a blessing
I am worthy of love
I am worthy of dignity
Kindness and support
A life of happiness
Joy and acceptance
I know the Universe
Needs my essence
Each of us is part
Of a greater pattern
Sparks and energy
Quarks and atoms
God and His Angels
Guide and bless my path
For I'm part of the Universe
Part of its precious heart
© Michelle Morris, 2023
Yesterday, a weight of mind, derived by thought, delivered in chain
Imagined pressure through cranial consumption of societal norms
These weights do not weigh a pound, nor make a sound
Yet, we feel heavier by day.
Memories and angst, a turmoil of mind so hard it seems impossible to find the peace we struggle to reach, thus, an improbable reality we face; quicksand crafted by warted hands of mutated self-acceptance.
Still, we persevere,
Cementing our minds to this mental grind, studious in wait, anxious to the past we bind.
Forever egging fate to exhume the darkness and exalt the light.
As chemistry and physics study atoms, we atomize the atomic nature of human construct,
Dumbing down the reality that we are meant for life in the present
Using all we can to distract ourselves from the truth,
To stay in presence is to release the past and worry not of the future, a feat surely easier said than done.
So how do we make yesterday's wishes todays triumph?
We ask ourselves,
How, oh how do I remove the pain and add the lesson....
Once provoked with such a question we sit in wonder.
Behind the gaze of a sun so bright, to look behind is to realize the dark is what allows the light.
Emersed in the void of your being, traversing towards transcendence, traveling to depths once believed to not exist, as if walking a labyrinth of unmasked mirrored memory with walls of buried pain left to rot.
You begin to see the sights you once held in disbelief; becoming the optic for all that is, sky to sea; as all that exists without lies dormant within and in-between; the death of illusion illuminating all you've neglected to be.
Simply believe in all that you can be, for yesterday's wishes are meant to be studied stepping stones for the divine existence that dwells beneath the shadows of you and me.
Is the unknown always concealed by the dark, I wonder
What if the unknown has been basking in the light all along
Hiding in plain sight while we make deals with fear to try and reach its borders
The light allows us to think that we see all that we need to know
It's a distraction we look forward to, makes us feel in control, so we never feel a sense of the unknown when it's in command
How do we embrace the unknown when we can't be at peace in the dark
I mean, if we are to believe we find our true selves when we embrace it, like some say
The unsightly mess long tucked away from prying eyes, but still holds us hostage somehow, lurks somewhere in the dark
Maybe the dark is the tunnel that takes us to the mysterious unknown
So if the dark is the tunnel, is the unknown the light at the end of tunnel then?
Which would make sense in a way, because no one ever knows if that light is the train coming to mow them down or a sign that their time in the dark is over.
Could even be a firefly's glow in there, you just never know!
Or maybe the unknown is the time spent in the dark tunnel?
So that embracing the unknown would mean being comfortable
in the darkness of the tunnel enough to face our fears
To find in there, the right mental stimulation that doesn't ruffle the feathers unnecessarily and set any triggers off
A place where thoughts can safely unfold at leisure in their own time
at their own pace
Without the pressures to blossom into action or to be anything at all
That must be part of learning to just be
Self awareness and self acceptance would certainly thrive in such a place
To stay still within the passage of a moment, to sense it, feel it and be ok to let it pass through you without trying to define it, must be how it feels to taste the unknown in my opinion
Form: