Transformation Poems - Poems about Transformation

Each day, I bury the version of me who loved less. Enthralled by my own becoming, I have fallen out of love countless times into new love. I savour each moment spent amidst my anointment towards higher values, and I ask, is love worthy of me? The idol of love is tantalizing, patient and kind,...

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The clouds once soothed my skin. I breathed the wind rising high. Shadows lingered deep within. They vanish as light draws nigh. Velvet silence softly spread. Light came near with gentle steps. Truth arrived in twilight’s cape....

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The old woman sat, eyes like pools of dreams, and imagined. If generations of pain can be passed down through bone and blood, why can’t love live there as well? She touches her face tentatively, tracing the line of her jaw—strong, etched with the strength of those who came before. Her teeth bite into questions, the kind no one wants to ask. But she does. She always...

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This clinging dark not death, not bloom stilled in air. Soft walls resist what dares to come The skin forgets its former hue, Will light find purchase there? A hush before the body breaks, not wing, not wound, but something near... The splitting shell reveals a vast, cold, bright despair....

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Awakened! I returned a stream in Spring to flow and grow on nature’s snowmelt milk. I came to be of earth and sky (...a fling;), my sire a winter storm. Like liquid silk emerging, I was born; a water-child. Between two banks I nestled with my dreams and bloomed a gAnGLy creek ‘til solstice. Wild I played— not meek but sleek....

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I was saved by quiet things— The rustle of the morning breeze, The way the robin spreads its wings, The golden drift of autumn leaves. I was saved by threads of light That touched my skin through broken blinds, By distant stars that pierced the night, By echoes I had left behind. I was saved by falling rain— The softest tears the sky could...

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I carried stones inside my chest, Each one a name I could not speak. They built a wall beneath my breast, A fortress made of worn-out ache. I carried rivers in my veins, The floods of all I held too long. They carved their maps through years of strain, A quiet, slow, unspoken song. I carried winters in my bones, The weight of every...

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I carry a house upon my back, A fragile frame of dreams and stone. Its windows cracked, its timbers black, But still I walk, and still alone. Each wall is built from words unsaid, From nights I stitched with fraying thread. Its roof is shingled with the dread Of all the tears I never shed. I pass through valleys, rivers wide, This house sways...

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The river moves but never dies, It carries all it cannot keep. Beneath its glass, the silence lies, A cradle where the old dreams sleep. I watch it wind through stone and silt, A silver ribbon pulled by time. It bears the weight of love and guilt, And every joy we failed to climb. I see my face in trembling glass, A thousand selves...

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She was a field– soft, wide, aching. He was the match, small but hungry. They met not in spring, but in that breathless hush before things grow– where hope is still half-buried beneath frost. She held the rain like a secret. He wore the fire like a promise He never meant to keep. She broke without a sound He burned like it was prayer. and yet– in the blackened soil, something...

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They locked her in a box of gold, with chains that shimmered, stories told. "Stay pretty,  still–don't ask for more, The fire in you? Just folklore". she smiled like myths were make–believe, But hid a flame beneath her sleeve. each breath she took was kindling slow, A furnace marked in ash and glow. The saw her feathers, red and bright, But...

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I crawled through years where night fell fast, where dawn was a rumor, faint and far. Each day was a climb up a crumbling wall, every step swallowed in shadows, and the weight of the world bore down, pressed hard— its whispers sharp, relentless. Hope would come, a flicker, then fade, a candle swallowed by each unkind wind. I’d chase it like breath,...

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It begins with a sky-split cry— a blade of wind slicing the stillness, gulls scattering like torn pages as the sea holds its breath. Then comes the first thunderstroke, not from clouds, but from below— the ocean remembering its anger. The sea begins to speak in tongues— lightning dances across the waves. The ocean surges, climbs the wind, rising in spiraled towers of spray— a mind...

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Within the thick rainforest’s living light, where leaves shimmer with soft emerald light, there lives a creature no one has seen, Luminara, the secret of the night. Its skin is like liquid moonlight, cool and smooth, tracing patterns only the night knows. Its wings unfold like glass petals, translucent, catching every glimmer of the forest’s glow. It moves without a sound, a flicker of...

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I was young back then— When chirruping birds sang lullabies, Not just morning songs, but wings of peace fluttering through a boy’s sleepy eyes. The bark of a dog would freeze my feet, Thunder sent me digging deep beneath blankets, And my name on a teacher’s tongue Felt like a storm I could never outrun. The thump of a chopper in the sky Made...

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