Long Self worth Poems
Long Self worth Poems. Below are the most popular long Self worth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self worth poems by poem length and keyword.
Everyone is searching for answers in the midst of current tragedies
Two unarmed black men and five white cops gunned down mercilessly
Black in Americans are incensed over the slaying of so many black men
But the answer is not the killing of white cops to make it even
Yet there is very little sympathy or justice when a black man is slayed
But if a white cop is shot a social uproar is on full display
Dear America I need you to comprehend it's about the economy
As there's not enough to go around for the majority
The economical and political climate of Jesus's time is just like today
Where the poor and downtrodden are hopeless, harassed and totally dismayed
The system then and the system now continues to perpetrate
A class of low income and disenfranchised who can never formulate
A means to attain any kind of status or develop any wealth
Living in substandard conditions which affects their self worth
Oppressed, depressed and totally distressed
Never to ever experience any form of progress
And until there is progress for all there will be economic strife
And until there is true equality there will be no peace in life
We need to address the ideology that systemically demonizes
And remember America was founded with violence and needs to realize
That African Americans will no longer sit quietly
and see our people be killed everyday
No justice, no peace and we will have our say
We are all children of the most high God
He loves us all and has us in His heart
You are no better than me and I'm no better than you
And the color of our skin doesn't make that less true
Dear America I hope you come to comprehend and understand
That all lives do matter be you a Caucasian or a Black man
Dear America we need to be like Jesus and have true compassion
With a desire to make positive change its time to take action
Dear America I need you to open your eyes and truly see
That there is no more plantation occupancy
Black Americans are now educated and many economically sound
We are no longer your property so stop trying to tear us down
We are more than conquerors we are survivors
and we claim the victory
Its time for you to let go of that slave owner mentality
Rarely i think
Do i feel total defeat
But when it does
It chokes me as it snatches my body from feet
All the things i do seem irrelevant
Sinking my spirit deep
I call myself an artist but never am paid
And when i fail at it, i sit and loathe myself
In this cave
Should be grateful for what i have
and feel happy truth be told
But theres these thoughts inside i have
That no one else but me knows
And when they stir as i still
The pain of these thoughts grow
So il shed these words
And maybe not feel as mold
It hits me at once
The anger the sorrow the loathe
Questions start birthing doubt of self worth
A con artist to my self
My art not even honed
Years have passed
With none truly treasuring them
Makes me feel alone
Drawing wits dimmed from impatience
Thoughts out of focus
Guitar always sings an underdogs song
No purpose to bear does it have but to be played
When im alone
Then the question of my sanity begins
The ball breaker to the chorus's bones
That drags me down to a lowly pit home
I dont feel suited for who im supposed to be
Even if im not crazy
So much evidence
Still does not comfort me
Deep down i always feel im going to fail
Always coming so close
But the world i feel doesnt care
So i feel empty, drained and sometimes scared
...
And this is why i have to fight myself
Because i have demons battling me within
Every single day
”Negative words can create a negative image of self; embrace negativity and let it be fuel to your inner positivity, to see self in a positive light.”
Quote _by Poet
For many years I struggled to see my self-worth,
Thought I was a useless piece of discarded trash.
My low opinion of self, made me question my birth.
I longed for my dark days to zoom by in a flash.
I was made fun of when I attended grade school.
I believed every negative thing that was said;
My sad life was so overwhelming and cruel,
I spent most of my days in my full-sized bunk bed.
As time went by, feelings for self-started to shift,
I started to entertain ” liking” who I was,
Soon positivity came, it was such a gift.
My attitude started to change without applause.
No longer did I see unwanted filthy rags.
I saw my worth and value in my brokenness,
Now I view negative energy as red flags,
Folks talk about me these days, for outspokenness.
For many years I struggled to see my self-worth,
I was made fun of when I attended grade school.
As time went by, feelings for self-started to shift,
No longer did I see unwanted filthy rags.
Contest: My Created Form
Sponsor: Constance La France
11/29/2020
I look for a definition to a meaning for my pain
My lack of self worth and self esteem
I have traveled these brutal seas of fake change
The direction worked then but my compass of thought was way of course
The streams they seem all the same
Lack of trust lack of happiness
The essence of me not so pleasant
I look in an unforgiving mirror each day struggling to exist
Its like am i caught in this current of relapse each day
Questioning everything i am and want to be
I ponder past decisions past explorations
Discovering only the same wasteland of emotion
I try to speak i try to make sense to me and everyone around
It appears strange and compromised
The words i want to say come out better sometimes on these pages of time i write upon
Its seems i am conflicted with in my own being
I wish to be better in all i take on but it turns more into chaos than anything else
How does a man better himself if he believes he could never be excepted in his own eyes to exist in any realm of happiness.
We Can Be A Light
Sal was sixteen when he committed suicide.
A loving son and brother.
You could count on Sal when you needed to talk and know it was confidential.
Sal was always there with a smile and a vote of confidence in any endeavor you might pursue.
Sal's sense of humor and love for life was contagious and treasured by his family.
Then something happened...
He drowned wearing a cloak of self-loathing.
Sal's dignity and self-worth suffered the slurs of homophobic zealots.
"Guilty of sin. A sin against God and nature.”, they hollered.
Societal prejudice and loathing usurped the love of Sal's family.
Too many bodies are washed ashore from the violent seas of hate.
It doesn't have to be.
The enlightened hearts and minds of each generation must hold sacred the need to establish and maintain Lighthouses of Love and Respect.
So that...
When a lonely, frightened Child of God sees the beam of light he or she will know, that they are not alone and that Compassion and Empathy will be waiting for them on the shore.
*
What Love commands the train fulfills,
The six thirty bounds to Coney Island
Where the green Ubers awaits the passengers
Morning greetings, (Urdu) of few words, were the
Pakistan, rules Mermaid Street with the neon green
Were too mama? where too, two dollars:
A repeat routine for most of us,
Whether you’re a morning person or a night owl, we all start our day at some point. And we all seem to start it differently. (Kevan Lee)
Five forty showers, get dress out the door before six a.m.
Grab the garbage, and walk three minutes to the subway,
where love commands the train fulfills, which lessened
My morning depression until midday, (who control whom)
Why was I born, why am even here, what is my personal worth?
Timeless question, who would remember me, when I am gone?
The train, the cabbies, would the streets miss my dragging feet?
Self-observation, is it worth a Newyork minute of whom will miss us. (really)
Void, void, void, void, void, void, void, and more void,
Just allowed the few that might to do some adjustments
For the sake of remembering me, for the sake of losing my car fare,
For the sake of not receiving, my monthly fees, and T-Mobile
you definitely would, release me from my grandfather plans:
Today, I sit in silence, away from all sounds, only the sounds
Of a keyboard, and my heartbeat, as the mouse goes click, click
For the sake of remembering is that a poet is only good at recollecting, reflecting, and making his audience believes in his words:
This Photo by Unknown Author
Still me like a snow globe oh soul even if I'm not there yet
peek inside me as if I were glass, human yes though part net
I am aware
of my stare
and I am conscious of my emotions, they are quick like a jet
Alette and noble cross legged with a third eye open, I am
just learning how to let go and let God take over I'm a Ram
holding my breath
I exhale like Seth
its all about self worth in this fulcrum, I believe that I can
Guide me through this journey that I may understand and see
the deviant ways I go, the straight arrows I shoot, yes its all me
in this sponsored life
I often meet rife
but when I am still as a snow globe,... I can breathe and be free.
Feb 25, 2022
Sponsor Unseeking Seeker
Contest Name Consciousness Fulcrum
As the sands of time
challenge love's reality,
it slips through your fingers.
Although Hope still conjures a smile,
recalling those magic moments
you've stored within your heart.
Love cannot bloom in yesterday's shadow;
shaded from tomorrow's dawning light.
And your heart grows numb
to the constant sting of lies
as you fall into depression's abyss:
struggling with emotions
of shame and self-worth.
With the bonds of trust severed:
you offer your wounded heart a placebo,
seeking solace within the world of dreams.
But fractured feelings haunt the graves of memories:
with both the sweet ecstasy of love
and the bitter dregs of betrayal.
(Wems Henry Temmy Psalm 80)
I have avoid many a problem
My own way painting lines of poem
None solved or boost my morale
I just ended up being a chorale
But You; oh Lord, when You are here
My low self esteem saddened and disappear
Arrogance has filled the emptiness
Pride has always cause clumsiness
Self worth has never been of value
Challenges are to me impromptu
But You; oh Jehovah, when You show
My focus beats its best reality to grow
Many certainly don't want to fall
Some honorary adhere to its call
Attitudinal ego may not be of pride
If it turns out to fix right every tide
But You; oh God, when You give a hand
My doubts couldn't convincingly stand
Few wish but couldn't stand right
Others whose strength bear the fight
Can't conquer the least in their efforts
For on it they solely depend in comforts
But You; oh Alpha and Omega, when You hint
My mind; its influences, cautions imprint
Unseen is for compliment so nasty
Seen is weak more like a rhinoplasty
Everyone is just different in grace
To sail through huddles of time cum race
But You; oh Trinity, when You shed radiance
My heart retreats all pleasing deviance
The debt is settled on the cross
In the grave, the battle is won -- bye loss
Getting the home prepared for every guest
Training work and faith to the time of rest
Yes You; oh Jesus, when You shall tell
My ears the earthly story, let me be off hell.
Amen!
How would I have any idea what I think, if I couldn’t read my own poetry?
When I sit to write poetry, my mind transforms the blank screen into a flurry of words and then sometimes a story that I had never heard before emerges.
The Hippy era in the 60's was rife with poets, and songwriters and public speakers all voicing their thoughts, their feelings, their dreams and their protests, and I was one of them. Through the life of a married woman, poetry was practically a forgotten art. Oh I still loved reading it and had a huge collection of poetry books by the greats, but rarely ever wrote a poem.
Then came a thing called COPD. Forced into retirement at 63, and within four years I was spending most of my time in a wheelchair. Little or no voice left, could only walk about 10 steps without gasping for breath.
Recently I found SOUP. I tried my hand at poetry again. Its become an obsession. It wasn’t only the poetry, it was the companionship of like minded people who were willing to encourage and praise others. Not working creates a doubt of self worth. Writing poetry restores that feeling. You can create something pleasurable for others. It’s a confidence booster. it’s a big part of my life now. I cant participate in activities, but I can write poetry.
I can sit by a lake or jump from a plane or climb a mountain, all from the safety of my wheelchair. I can fill a sleepless night by creating or just chatting to a mate. It feels like I am still alive.