Long Self talk Poems
Long Self talk Poems. Below are the most popular long Self talk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self talk poems by poem length and keyword.
Dusk descends here with sudden dark;
Devoid of cheer this lonely park;
Stay away dear from this deep dark.
The wind blows chill by seafront sway;
Blurry mists grow to cloud pathway;
I breeze this show with thoughts that stray.
Stride for stride I glimpse in self-talk;
Images ply, odd visions chalk;
Echoes and sighs now follow walk.
I seek to find moments that come;
Notice in kind that wordplay sums;
I feel my mind float sounds that hum.
I wonder why the flow and feel
Prompts a fond sigh as verse reveals
A certain high as waves fund thrill.
Here by the way is path that leads;
Heart flings fond say like wind-blown seed;
A burst of play in thoughts that feed.
There comes a time when lonely shores
Compel clear chimes in feel galore
Watch fleeing rhymes fling seaside stores.
Dusk sets the stage for random plots;
Imprints of age in preying thoughts;
Browse mental rage for hidden lot.
Take note of change that confronts pain;
Plain vocal range sets sure disdain;
Rest in the strange in words once slain.
Here on this trip to nowhere near,
Unzip old grip to confront fear,
Heartbeats now rip beyond sane gear.
When all seems dark and hope looks grim,
I let soul spark a timely hymn,
Circle new arc and rest odd whim.
Dusk heralds poise to gain new lease,
Heed a calm choice to prime new ease,
Then surge of voice must surely please.
Leon Enriquez
26 Mar 2014
Singapore
My back is aching but I can lift this. There is only one more giant box.
My muscles are tense, my neck is screaming.
My body groans, wanting to give up.
Why don’t we disappear and let someone else do this?
Voice of stupidity whispers.
It is time for a sane person’s nap,
but I am determined to punish my muscles.
Angry at them for getting saggy, baggy, noncompliant,
but most of all for not being young.
In a horrible mood now, I run around shrieking at others,
riling up the troops.
Baring my teeth, showing them the remnants of my emotional lobotomy.
Angry at everyone else for what I have done to myself.
Angry at everyone else for my negative self-talk.
Everything hurts now. Every single muscle, joint, and hair follicle.
I have bruised and bashed myself, but most of all, I am …..
Angry at the world for allowing me to get old.
When math class starts, stress will rise,
"I’m no good at math" glows up in our head,
You see rising panic form in our eyes,
Inner chat takes over instead.
But you take the "not now, not never", self-talk—
The labels we use when we're lost—
And show us how to pause, take a walk,
Where "failure's" a bridge to be crossed.
You guide us through the work on the board,
These mistakes are how we can learn.
A growth-filled room of learning to think,
Worry dies as good thoughts return
It was never about the X or the Y,
But how we speak to our thoughts at our desk;
You teach our minds a healthy reply,
Make our problems seem like a quest.
It has been a challenging road. I have had a very troubled life. My recovery has been well worth the fight
to be free from mental Illness. I have put more work in my recovery than I have put in anything else in my entire life.
How I recovered was a day by day process, lots of positive self-talk, journaling, Transitions support groups It's a tremendous support to be able to go to a support group and to relate and share
with others about issues without feeling discriminated against. One on one time with the greatest case-manager I have ever had. To be able to talk and share myself with this individual and receive
nothing but love, praise, thoughtfulness and the most professional worker I have had.
She has tremendous faith in my abilities and to hear compliments from her every time she sees me melts my heart.
Through this whole recovery journey I developed a stronger relationship with GOD that I never thought was possible.
My LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST is the reason I'm still alive to tell my story
Thousand thoughts rummage the grey fluff.
Gloomy, godawful voices thump in self-talk
"I'm an idiot, a loser,...... it's all my fault".
Autopsies of the past, tear my flesh,
Regrets of a decade, devour my heart.
Rant of betrayals suffocate my breath.
Capricious sentiments egg me to a wreck.
Loud conch shells stalk me in heavy weight.
I sink in the abyss of "What'll people think?,"
I wish I could not hear what my mind says.
Isn't that echo the shadow of my sound ?
With a mind of steel, the Ventriloquist vowed,
I'll flash away that swampy dummy puppet..
I'll end the endless sabotage of that parrot..
It's my journey, .. my thoughts, ..my dreams.
PLACED FIFTH IN THE CONTEST
13th January, 2019
Plucking the Poisonous Parrot Contest
Sponsor Maureen McGreavy
Take a moment to shut-down the brain.
Rebooting also works,
the writing on the mind wall
will probably continue,
but don't get back on the thought train,
The much annotated, over-cluttered script
will fade away
when your eyes begin to look through it.
We are all born with a soft spot
atop our heads, that aperture is still there,
it opens when you unplug
from all your self-talk.
The starry universe can now pour in,
or just a scent of an unworldly flower
that swoons your sense.
Keep brainless, sit apart from its
scrolling word-monitor,
sit, lay or stand one breath away
from its constant chatter,
watch from a distance
watch the one who watches
do not editorialize
just observe.
That metaphysical hole
in your emptying head
will let your Higher Self inward
and it will fill you with wonder
until you know there is no 'you'
at least until once more
you turn back on
your beeping and buzzing brain
to find some news of yourself.
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
Arc of rising moon
Distant silhouettes;
Evening settles down
~~~~~~~~~
So often it happens
Notice the same broadcast;
Self-talk feeds amusement
~~~~~~~~~
Evening hurries briskly
TV sitcom serenades;
Eyes glued to instant charm
~~~~~~~~~
Meal time harvest here
Pay-per-dish varieties;
Don't know what to eat
~~~~~~~~~
Broadwalk street cafe
Menu temptations ooze;
Set meal or a la carte
~~~~~~~~~
Listen for a voice
Soft as gentle breathing;
Gone before you notice
~~~~~~~~~
Fast food outlet
Dangling potato wedges;
Dine-in or takeaway
~~~~~~~~~
Sunny side up
Egg yolk flamboyance;
Pretty on a plate
~~~~~~~~~
The weather man predicts
Lots of rain today;
Free car wash drenching
~~~~~~~~~
A warrior's sacred pact
To defend this mother land;
Contingency practicals
~~~~~~~~~
Waiting time explores
New city mall shoppes;
Brands shouting sales
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
14 November 2014
Singapore
Whispered Spirals of lucid feelings ‘ jest and mock within as morning shakes me gently from my slumber .
My thoughts bleed away from that invisible country of dreams ‘
their importance and meaningfulness
‘fades quickly into the dark pool of the forgotten.
A new day of living has come ‘
And from that stillness I now begin a new cycle of existence within this world of men , the obligatory ,
and Subsequent twenty four hours of perception and required lucidity .
A tide of realisation begins to float my priorities and fears from that sleeping ocean’s floor .
Positive Self talk and gratitudes are spoken softly to abate and ground My mood for this coming new day.
Knowing If I was to Foolishly jump straight into the time of waken without care ,
Then This realisation would shock me painfully and lead to panicked floundering’s.
I remind myself with factual neutrality’ and disciplined optimism
that I’ve never lived this date
‘ though it looks similar , ‘
today is new
‘today anything could happen,
and probably will .
Words spur meaning as time reveals,
Heart owns feelings where space appeals.
Hurl then pure voice that owns the fling,
Live well each choice as Seasons spring.
Zest works magic in simple fest,
From grounds static blooms fun and jest.
Self-talk is good if you but see,
Poise fills each mood with certainty.
Stick to fond cheer that knows fine glow,
Live without fear so love may grow.
Seek peace of mind in simple grace,
Live good and kind as joy fills space.
Be without guile to live most light,
Think thoughts worthwhile that yield true sight.
Within your soul all answers wait,
Seek that sure whole beyond mere fate.
Time and space change in fragile days,
Things then turn strange in vivid play.
Be unafraid of pain and stress,
Yield not to dread in mad address.
All in good time your tale you own,
Bear with all chimes known and unknown.
Leon Enriquez
03 January 2015
Singapore