Short Self Help Poems

The bigger you mentally are, 
the bigger your wishes will be!...

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self help book pile up
sure crashing in happenstance
falling from on high

5/17/2018...

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Do we need to really change?
Self-help gurus can be strange,
What is wrong with the status quo?
Dress with a smile, be jolly, Yo!...

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Never think God has abandoned you;
And you are all alone

If you are going through difficult time,
He want you to be strong
 
You are one of His precious creature,
In your broken heart is situated His throne

One day He will bless you with;
Whatever you want....

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Self help does not always help self,
Self indulgence could be hazardous to self,
Self advertising can create ego too big for self. 

Self awareness comes before improving one self,
Self diagnosis does not make a happy self,
Self doubt is no excuse for isolating one self....

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On the path of healing
I stumbled a lot 

As I continued my journey 
My wounds were left open for the world to gaze 

I hid them behind my smile and continued my ride
I was walking with long strides 

Once reaching the stop I felt cold
I looked at my cuts and found them dripping gold...

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Chronic illness isn’t for punks
You deal with pain feel drained
I wonder why my power failed
To heal myself be a miracle 
I think it’s leftover trauma
I forgot in maroon mind
But body blues recall drama
So I will find a white way
To break the cycle of pain
And gain the keys to self help...

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Mind what you say
Alone the way


Lift words that spark
Light in the dark


Heart knows what's right
In misty flight


Feel how joy sums
A grand outcome


Soul anchors peace
In stormy tease


Know thus the way
To prize fond play




Leon Enriquez
02 April 2018
Singapore...

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Take it easy now,
if all you have is yourself,
hold your hand and breathe

Take it easy now,
this is for your mastery,
alone, roads get clear

This is all for now,
tomorrow can be tougher,
yet you'll be wiser

This is you right now,
born a star and raised a scar,
who's meant to move far


-Nicola An...

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It's ok to give yourself some time 
Would you like to hear me rhyme
Hating yourself doesn't cost a dime
But it should pretty much be a crime.

It's ok to give yourself some time 
Are you afraid you are going to lose your prime
Don't be, as practice can make your work sublime
You are a gem hidden inside all that grime....

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I will never read a book about Self Help.
That folks, is not getting self help.
That is getting self help written by somebody else.
You are getting someone else's self help.
If you truly want self help,
why on earth would you read a self help book written by someone else?
Whenever I need self help,
I Help My Self,
That is self help folks, nothing else....

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January 17, 2016  
Updated February 18, 2016
Written by Gail DeBole

There once was a thief named Brooks
Who wrote a crook’s self-help book.
He charged a very small fee
But the thieves got it for free,
When they self-helped themselves to the books. 

Note: Illustrated in Coloring within the Limericks available on Amazon.com and other retail websites....

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My best friend, Dawnette, chanted money for money
It's what they did in LA's Scientology
We were single mothers, but unlike myself
My friend stayed well rounded, a veteran of self-help
Some single mothers are rich... sabotage was on my list
I sought no help for my will and wit
Yet took on the world with trembling hands
My wealth was whipped; but now I can dance.

*...

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Being how you are on purpose,
and being what you are is often effortless,
I suggest a course of non-action.
Self-help from mentors
will land you both pickled in the same cosmic jar.
There are all kinds of just rightness,
stay put,
being your own special kind of fit
in this misfit world.
Reality is a jigsaw puzzle for the sightless,
be the last piece to be found....

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it is not getting any easier
I'm missing about 10 of 12-steps
listening to Alan singing my blues
hasn't made it any better yet

every time I read a chapter
thinking I've got it all figured out
there is another twist or turn
one self-help doesn't write about

so while I'm penning these daydreams
and silence grows by the hour
I guess you've got your point across
I need to grow a little more willpower...

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I need some fresh air,
I want someone to care.
I'm feeling rest less,I'm feeling sad.
I have no cause to be a little glad.
Any attempt to be happy
Only makes me mad.

Where is that fresh air?
Where is that person,who'll care?
Oh! I see, they are seen rare.
They travel to help strong people.
They have no time for a feeble.
They are set to nurse those-
Who don't call them.
Self Help is
Their relief anthem....

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Eat your heart out, and what is left
The lips that pout, the soul bereft
The loss of love, the lack of heart
The stress of life, in whole or part

The sweeter side, of love and bliss
May not confide, a tender kiss
But on your side, a single hope
Of joy inside, by how you cope

The peace within, may start anew
For how you win, is what you do
The more you give, the more you save
The will to live, by what you gave....

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Life seems to prepare the well-trodden road for me
I as a good mental patient
I throw boulders upon it so large
To create obstacles worthy of medals for me,
If I could overcome them.
I live with grace
While I crave the difficulty within every muscle fiber
I fear the already lived, the prepared
I want works out of my hands
Earning my living by my bread.
Hearing from below the earth
The moon singing reading the notes on the stars....

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They aim for simplicity
to purge memories
of political uncertainty
poison relationships
with no escape hatches
the characteristic relaxed
easy-going atmosphere
blurred pages unread
self-help books
chasing primary designs
brands to be mobbed
twenty-eight percent faster

*A found poem. I Googled 'refresh', took phrases from the titles and content of about six returned news articles, lined them up, and modified as I thought necessary....

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A clump of dried leaves from frail
limbs I failed to nurture,
settling on a page under
my sinking face 
with a scent to lift up
the low spirits in me,
such rotten source
blessing me with remedy

The comfort we receive
from the things we couldn't save, 
the purpose we gain regardless
an unfulfilled goal,
and the Love I'll always keep
even after the passing
are these propitious testaments 
I can't trade for resentments


-Nicola An...

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Saint Jude himself couldn't stop
the spinning chariot wheels
of all my lost causes,
but I have this self-help book
that I keep at my elbow;
one day I'll read it.

Occasionally I take a trip
in a metaphysical fishing ship
with fellow deckhands.
Naturally the talk turns to purpose,
the art of being rescued,
and charging through icebergs. 

None of my crew 
has a clue, 
or even know how to fish,
but we all have this passion
for drowning....

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Guilty

     In school one class mate had English tutor.
      Her score in English was always higher.
       I borrowed her home- work lessons and studied. 
      I got highest mark making her angry and worried.

        I felt guilty and never asked for her help further
         Onward self- help was my motto for future
         I competed following my ambition and dream.
         Not English but Mathematics was my stream

         03/16/16...

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These glorious colors of hope in the sky, 
From red to violet to blue,
Depend on the gaze of each peering lover, 
It differs from each point of view,

You see, sunlight bounces off its own water drop, 
Adopts a color to share,
And heads straight to your lovely soul, 
Controlled by the love in the air,

So what you see is a little different to me, 
Different shades from the arc way up high,
Made by different tints of an ocean, 
Emotions that come from the sky....

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Life is somehow like doing a project, 
It cannot automatically succeed           
Except some kindness divines to aid, 
That needs to move the Holy spirits            
We cannot do so  for any miracles             

So turned to recruit the like-minded, 
Self-help we must do, with keys to the heart            
Open up  spaces for everyone, 
Acknowledge being a part of the United, 

The blueprint  of lives likes a jigsaw picture
We must be united to make life  better...

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A lonely cold stranger in her own living room, 
She assumed the role of a ghost,
She changed her name to avoid being numb, 
To become who she wanted the most,

And her new name was a name for beauty outside, 
She painted her name out in front,
Every day of her life she had intimate friends, 
Living her life on the run,

No longer the shade of another’s dark past, 
A mark of an abscessed old tooth,
She walked the streets with beautiful shame
And became the angel of truth....

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