Long Self image Poems
Long Self image Poems. Below are the most popular long Self image by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self image poems by poem length and keyword.
When I feel compassion
with my positive needs
for love
health
trust
safety,
When I feel compassion
for my fears
wounds
negative fortress wants
to overpower perceived threats
against my egocentric compromises
with ruthless capitalism,
soulless patriarchalism,
strategic genocide,
extractive ecocide,
smug and heartless anthrosupremacy,
aggressively diseased LeftBrain dominance
inside my ruminating self
as schizophrenically viral
outside Those Evil People
voices
without kind choices,
When I feel compassion
with my healthy integral potential
and for my pathological capacity
to do more harm
to further wound EarthTribal consciousness
to militarize my fearmongering
and anger repressing words,
When I feel compassion
as the guy who loves listening
to friends and family, and even foes
excited about our multigenerational attachments
to multicolored
and fabulously gay designed
exotically sexy fragrant flowers
Is also the coempathizing guy
who shares DNA
and bicameral neurosystemic flow structures
with Vladimir Putin
and those who voted for him,
with Adolph Hitler
and those who voted for him,
Donald Trump
and those who voted for him,
Mitch McConnell
and those who voted for his Straight Corporate Man Party,
and possibly even Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene,
and those Georgians who voted for her
bad blond self-image
Which is decidedly not Green
in any feminist compassionate
organically cooperative
and co-empathically engaged way
and means to truth
and healthy resilient life
Maybe,
as I have sometimes whispered,
not-green Greene is a toxic infestment
machine
planted by an alien aryan planet
When I feel compassion
what do I need?
want?
crave?
CoEmpathic cooperation
and healthy co-investment,
experiences of win/win strategic game playing,
celebrating our resonant
positive
social neurological systems
for restorative health
for cooperative
long-term
EarthTribe safety.
When I feel compassion
for my engaged side
AND my dark and ominous potential
to fail in my own indigenous
humane
natural/spiritual development potential,
Then I can at least laugh
with my own creative conspiracy theories
and against my own tragic Earth-degenerative
Mutually Assured Destruction,
MADness that might take out humanity
Or,
even worse,
eradicate Earth's wild
and domesticated flowers.
Seems my handwriting will never improve,
Yearlong efforts, letters still oblong.
Not quite right, but we pretend it’s not all bad,
I fixate on each line, a prerequisite approach.
So next and then that line and its spacing, proper
striving for excellence, sentence, cursed to find
some semblance, a distant echo. Earshot.
Eardrum. POP!
Outward rang disdain, my reality indifferent,
Marks resembling a bell curve in chicken sketch,
It distorts my outlook, tarnishes self-image.
I try with practice sheets laid out,
Only to be reminded of the horrors I scrawl within.
Devastating, humiliating,
Suppressing nausea,
Sick of this, hating my own thoughts,
Ruining half-decent poems or ideas.
Regardless of merit or talent shown,
sent into the fire.
scribe on restroom walls
its contrived and
makes me writhe.
I discard writing tools,
My creative well runs dry, deceased,
Gone, past tense, already done in.
Progress slower than a snail,
with kidney failures
Skull soon exposed.
I’ll tear at my scalp,
Writing used to be fun.
You'll say, 'shut my trap'.
The torment I hold towards
every pen, pencil, or marker on any shelf.
Chasing after graphite,
specific utensils, lead grade, ink, acrylic,
I want them gone, obliterated,
Every trace, every hint.
EXTINGUISHED EVERY PEICE OF
. . .
Sorry, I get carried away...
This heretic! The disappointment,
Frail and brittle behind every attempt.
All result in zero, void, null, nil.
Here I sit, head in hands,
My task forever incomplete,
More setbacks, my drive
and desire to compete.
Now I understand why progress is elusive, unseen.
Hard-scoped when each step shown seems hopeless
rooted in the waste of regression.
I would be remiss if my speech lacked spirit.
Results: Inconclusive
Next topic: I digress,
I relinquish anima,
Lay to rest a thousand eyes’ constraints,
Seeking arrangements through attainment.
If there's space to graze, then seize the day.
Something bountiful in the invisible,
Nature's beauty in the winds of change,
Wrinkles on sheets of belief,
A moment for molecules deem insignificant,
Nested in the fabric of space-time,
An embarrassment that's all mine,
It is really all fine.
Signed, A construct for mortality.
Beauty Found Within
What are you talking about that I am nobody.
I traveled deep and far
I came back with the ability
to see all the beauty within
Do not tell me I am ugly because I sin
I found myself while living in the life I deny
trapped in a pit, never did i think I would win
Give me a chance to explain myself
I destroyed all the beauty i once knew
Pushed it deep behind a wall rejecting reality
Living as a lost soul feeding myself on the weak
Roaming all alone
Spiting on this world, torching my own will to love
God I put you to a side
That is still a book I am working on
The knowledge i once new, i through it all away
Living like a fool
to the worlds destructive ways
Trying to balance out my life
I closed the doors to receive the perception of every way
taking a deep look I fell to my knees
opening the door to help the ones in need
God it makes me so mad to know
we always put the worlds blame on you
The death of the world is just another beauty
to the life we will have on the other side
The evil we have with in, is just a wake up call
To receive the things we choose not see
blinded by the truth that does not add up at all
Inner beauty buried by my own rage
I felt so trapped, somewhere inside
Crying to let her out
I suffocate her with my tongue
Chanting for me to open my mouth
Now I take an oath to never betray her again.
nor lock her in the abyss inside of me
My beauty now overpowers the bite off the apple.
In which was taken from us in the beginning of all time
A small simple reminder,
That will sooner or later surface the outside
never in my wildest dreams did i imagined
my beauty would exposed for all to see
Now that i am strong i will stand up for myself
With God given gift I will also stand up for others
With my beauty that has bloomed like a rose
I will take that beauty and share for all to see
I will walk where my senses are needed
you will follow just to get to know me.
With the reminder so simple as can be
To look, to feel, to perform, is a wake call upon self-image
I found my beauty which is far more dangerous than vanity
the VALUES of life are the beauty given to me : )
by: P.D.
PLIGHTS FOUGHT TOMORROW KNOWN
WRITTEN FOR DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR. HOLIDAY 2016 (Versified!)
As days transpires, better we focus.
As life transgress, better our voice.
A walk, a talk, a political aspect of religion and righteousness.
Via the Founding Fathers we separated church and state.
Socio-political and socio-religious are the floodgates.
As we remember, tears may drop,
Is it the strength we possess that ruminates us?
We overcame our struggles and we are abreast to our accomplishments.
We are the United States of North America.3
Analysis of our external environment let us know
that we are a strong workforce.
That we are no more separated by the color of our skin.
That our unity is our identity of different nations of human beings.
That our mien is our self-image of economy –
the” big picture” of demeanor.
When we falter, we recoup.
We do not assume we will fall from what others do.
We are the people of our regions that are vast and wide.
We are negotiators of our lives.2
As we celebrate today in our mind-sets,
we know what may overwhelm us.
This could be how far we have come.
Or, it could be how far we will continue to go -
to climb the mountains that we must peak -
to deplete human suffering from the illness we perceive.
That is what is known and all the possibilities.
We have witnessed many tragedies from the
time of formation to present day.
But oh, we can find glory just as well in our beliefs,
creeds, and unity.1
Envois is this discourse.
Pro-activism edifice verbalized.
But to no idiom this loll.
We are all part of the same universe.
Each has his or her role to play.
All are formidable when the goal is stated.
May one be easier than the other?
May we strive to be a part of the same country?
Where we are awe-inspiring but together.
That is on the same page.
Where our lives are the similarity, and the same is our home front.
This is right outside our front door.4
The plight is fought and tomorrow is known!5
_____________________________________________________________|
Written January 16, 2016!
Before the whirlwind steam blurred into scoping.
Before scarcely the morning smooth gathering.
We were nervous until trustworthiness was revealed.
Amidst the adjunct's misfortune by blaze wield.
They were heedless to our flaws due to their sway.
As we overruled, inquiries impeded our headway.
I stumble over my own words and test the unattainable.
As poise trills its harsh orchestra, thoughts assemble.
The dissimilar sounds in my mind lead to stridency.
If you reckon you betray a lost soul, ply reason and equity.
As yet, my self-image fails to ensure the ideal outcome.
Stilled flows of awareness hunt for virtue placed some.
We are denied scopes that divulge a sheer rowdiness.
Promptly, when sympathy had yielded to wickedness!
And tastefulness was drawn alike a native tidal lagoon.
Sewn into the night's feeling by the beams of the moon
Since there were no stars, the sun rose at daybreak.
By relaying us, one current view of the world is kept awake.
Concerns aspire to hindrance in my road to harmony.
They fulfill their own drab ease same as a sore sensory.
Propel me down crooked streets to state my center.
I drop affection, and mindfulness covets a novice juggler.
A feeble aerobatic master beneath the kermis hogan.
An inbred urge for free fall spoils our views become on.
Outright deafness and spectacular quietness.
Patently complete, and communicate weakness.
We were herded because of our abstract language.
We strolled around valleys of the broken scrimmage.
Hued localities to us that display customary right.
We were observing the hue, and the slope didn't light.
Paradoxes and dipole oddity shuffle the process.
Stains and optic tricks are proved by farsightedness.
The moon hunts light-based bliss, yet tracts escape way.
Moral plights rally above my eyes, atman, and soul ray.
For a barred period, I'm sprung that shrouds are no withal.
The way to an Irreconcilable codicil is straightforward tall.
First place contest winner
Written:February 14, 2022
This or That, Vol 10 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
In the quiet twilight, we gather here today,
To honor my dad, remember him, and pray.
From the promised land, he flew with no regret,
To the fifties U.S., a different mindset.
In the old world, he wore many hats, even a soldier,
Now a young man on a Greyhound bus, bound for Boulder.
"Mariah," the bus played as they rolled along,
He remembered Mount Moriah and mistook it in the song.
He told us the U.S. had been great, yet he was sad,
Perhaps because we didn't know what we once had.
He worked his way through the U of C,
Studying the holistic subject of geography.
Dad became a professor; I watched the applause,
At conferences, everyone knew who he was.
A geographer who explored every field,
Endless books in his study, a vast horizon revealed.
Our summers in New England and the West,
The mile-square farm on Black Hill Road was the best.
Swimming holes, blackberry bushes, mountain hikes,
Exploring dirt roads on three-speed bikes.
But time went by, good came, but so did pain
People seemed so plastic, no anchor kept them sane
The sixties began the process, self-image changed,
A once-great country now became deranged.
Geography was deemed passé, no longer in fashion,
Radical winds swept through college halls, a destructive passion.
A compass spinning wild, the intellectuals sinned,
He wondered if Mariah still named the wind.
In older lands one friend had fought Nazis and Communists too
You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but it was true.
Dad joined with him and others to stem an intolerant tide,
A battle of course doomed, but at least they tried.
While we're still standing here, memories endure,
A young man's arrival, his heart remaining pure.
He's gone now, but he didn't cave, he made his stand,
In the old and then in a new Promised Land.
Zionists have been hunted in High School halls,
Jews huddle in fright as mobs bang on the walls.
What would he have felt, to see democracy’s shame?
Though I know he lost I’m proud he ran the race all the same.
Zits!
Pus problems ... oozing wipe love,
has got them innocent bite fangs showing
That baby drac queen moon face turning
into a teenage mutant turtledove
Cold cream cyber hits
Another three-day seclusion ...
chained to a marred model illusion
Hip adolescent Wonder Woman
changed into a square Lois —
closing the fast lane to popularity
Matinee crash dream ten-dollar scraping
for a heart wreck, no-date solution
Beauty tips blown to bits
Anger eruption,
lava tears flowing profusely
Cooled by sisterly advice:
“Don’t pick at it, no ...
just leave it alone, let it go”
Lonely growth spurts
stunts a lot of
aisle-walking linked elbows
A patient sitter keep their wits
Lost weekend,
wigging out ... undone
by an epidermal shut-in send
Death-of-the-party news
was delivered by
best black widow friends
Prickly pimple concerns —
premature social demise
do a solitude burn
in an empty plastic jar urn
Fashionable facial fits
Wrinkles in time —
appearance issues so juvenile ... hormonal crisis,
minor disaster averted
Upon mirror reflection,
ticking vanity
gave self-esteem a facelift,
that was in necessary
ego sore rub need
Fear obit ghosted
Halloween masks
and brown paper bags
Sour tongue wags
and mean emoji hash tags
Mall sighting scary,
peer mocking wary
Post a Photoshop pic
in the Facebook dairy
Carnival freak show weird distortion,
deemed by pride
as a public health enemy
Mono rumor was the fake text portion;
with a closet confide,
isolation was the safest entry
Squeezed happiness ain’t legit
Lessons learned in youth
will age properly ...
if knit picked by the truth
Ugly self-image
will fade compassionately,
given clear rite-of-passage proof
A pretty duckling gathering pearl thoughts,
spreading swan wings
And gently dispersing
every shed tear that be hideous skin wrought
I’m in Berlin. It’s nineteen eighty-four,
The Army on the Rhine, and I’m a nurse.
I’ve got an ego like an exocet,
(it’s safe enough, if regularly flattered),
and I have had enough of NAAFI-lore.
Four Powers – us, Froggie, Yank and Soviet –
have brought down on ourselves an endless curse:
we dance a careful monthly minuet
whose point is to uphold a badly-battered
self-image. Think of Tet – Lest We Forget!
A Captain of the Royal Medical Corps
(as sexy as a Wootton Bassett hearse)
Says, “Kathy, we’ve a mission for you, pet,”
(I got the feeling I was being Sepp Blattered).
She says, “We’ve carved you out a special chore.”
“We’ve got one inmate who’s a tad upset,
And you, we think, can put him in reverse ...”
The drill went on outside. Each pirouette
was polished like a boot. As if it mattered!
“Democracy will long be in your debt.”
As Häftling Hess held back the spring-hinged door,
his manner was teutonically terse.
I was the only woman that he’d met
in forty years. His chessmen were all scattered.
A single sock lay supine on the floor.
“So masculine, this space, I must regret,”
(all Germans, speaking English, think it’s verse),
“If I would say ‘bekom’, may I use ‘get’?”
He kept his overcoat on as we nattered.
I wore my civvies – Pringle puce twin-set.
He told me that my chess was very poor
(if anything, the practice made me worse:
but I won the NAAFI Cup that year, no sweat!)
His sense of self was ruinously shattered –
meticulous, but crap at keeping score!
I owe that man some sort of spiritual debt
(the kind of due you never reimburse),
that coelacanth in Spandau’s gloomy net,
his only greatcoat permanently spattered
with garden filth (and permanently wet!)
Whenever I think back on what he wore,
in my imagination I rehearse
short back and sides, the top still black as jet,
that turtle head, so wizened and so battered,
and I am not now what I was before.
I spoke those words impulsively,
I didn't think them through,
And now I disagree with me,
Knowing you do too.
We analysed at the same time,
simultaneously conclude,
Scrutinising my own mind,
disagreeing just like you.
What a stupid thing to say,
Is what you say to me,
Confusing if I say the same,
Even though I now agree.
I live aware but can't prevent
the impulsive words I speak,
I live with this embarrassment,
An everyday repeat defeat.
They say there's always one,
that one is always me,
And I guess what is said is done,
that is just the way it be.
Sorry if I am unpleasant
I speak truthfully,
unnecessarily and blunt,
beat them down beautifully.
To be honest I can't lie,
when I do I'm transparent,
so I live an honest life,
facing what the others haven't.
How can I hide my ADHD
when it's so apparent,
wear my heart on my sleeve,
resilience my talent.
It's all I know so ordinary,
I said before it is defeat,
not though more importantly,
worn down on repeat.
Some people who manipulate
steer clear of reality,
Denial first then stipulate,
weirdos reek of vanity.
They are needing this protection
against things I have overcome,
I'm the odd one out, the exception,
strength confronting things they run.
So yes I'm stupid blunt and nasty,
awkwardly impulsive often,
the spoken truth can be ghastly,
but fake's repulsive and chosen.
Project your self image as immaculate,
full of wisdom and intelligence,
skilled hindsight speaking accurate,
foolish symptoms and pretence.
I face the world that I live in,
impulsiveness is not my choice,
some fake the world they live in,
decisiveness in a lying voice.
At least I'm not scared to be me,
openly showing my personality,
never faking my identity,
pitying those act unnaturally
AN INTRODUCTION OF NEFREDA MARIA CASTLE OF THE BEAN PEOPLE
I am Nefreda Maria Castle of the Bean People.
Today, I feel appease and pleased by the peace I see in Giantvillism.
Giant and Maddy are an ordered paired in harmony in that they are structuring a meaningful world.
My husband, Jake, and my children; Jake. Jr., Nefreda Marie, and Joseph, and I have travelled afar to this beautiful existence beyond.
We bring unity in the belief of what the future holds for all of us.
Therefore, we are prepared for the troubles that confront us and we are armed to protect and defend each home front.
Nefreda Maria begins to sing…
A SELF-IMAGE
I am a lifespan.
I am a journey partook.
I am woman.
I am the light and the truth.
Within destiny, I strive for meaning and peace.
I am a schema of thorough belief -
A base of knowledge that breathes discovery.
I am life now and I am here to acclaim my own.
Imminently, I frame.
I am a niche in a divided space.
Proclamation of the existence of personal recourse –
I am a voice, a look, and an expression.
I am a Bean person.
In years to come and not beyond that, life will span.
The future I am not.
I am here to create a better tomorrow.
My destiny has not been perceived.
I am my creator.
Life formed for meaning.
Peace is an ideology.
I am a lifespan that endures.
I rather be rich than poor.
I am a self-image by the way I live.
Life is only a span of time.
The future is infinite.
I am here as I am now.
Bean people are limited.
Many bridges will be crossed.
Life formed to structure.
Within this medium, my life spans.
I am proclaiming my own.
My niche is well-defined.
I am a self-image refined.
______________________________|
Penned May 29, 2015!