#personified poem

[instantfoxdonut]

Had to write a poem for ELA class and decided to post it here.

Dear PRIDE,

You have helped me get through some of the harder moments in my life.

You may have caused me fear, sadness, and insecurity, but you have given me good things as well. I never seemed to fit in no matter where I was, who i was with, how I looked, or felt.

My own feelings didn't even seem to fit inside my chest.

I was sensitive.

Meek.

Alone.

I was told my feelings were different from others. That mine were "unnatural", "abnormal", and "unacceptable".

I was forced into a role that I had not signed up for. I wasn't ready to take the stage and be a part of that story.

Would there be an end? Would the curtains draw closed and finally let me play the role I wanted? Would I ever be free?

I was given no answer.

They preached to me that I could change my thoughts and mind or else I would be destined to burn deep within the pit of hypocrisy.

My heart.

My freedom.

My body.

I may burn but one thing shall never be lost to ash,

Pride.

I was trapped, strapped to a chair while being force fed stereotypes, prayers, homophobia, sexism, and hatred.

Watching as other girls were scared or beaten straight and be bound to eternal suffering just because of what or who they love. Feeling the amount of freedom I had left shrink and close in around me.

Having to read from a book that I couldn't bring myself to have faith in.

Being told to fit in from others as they spouted their opinions at me one after the other.

Having to wear dresses, skirts, and bows like a porcelain doll to do nothing more but stand to the side and desperately seek attention to be admired.

Not being seen as a person.

Having the influence to put minerals on my face and to nearly starve myself to death just for the sake of being "normal".

It was torture.

That was my life until I met you.

You brought me out of my monochrome world and gave me a more colorful existence instead. I found peers that didn't judge or shun my way of thinking or beliefs.

I was allowed to express myself, dress how I wanted.

To be able to cut my hair, cut my shackles and chains, and have blonde streaks.

To not have to look "feminine" or be perfect like other girls that would strive themselves to be that way.

Turning themselves into living barbies just to be "loved" as they say.

I wasn't going to do that to myself and also because of myself.

You made me feel accepted, understood, wanted, loved,

"Normal".

It felt so freeing being able to be wear my own skin and not have to fill and cover it with plastic and bubble wrap.

Not having to think about carving away at my own skin until I am nothing but flesh and bone.

Not having to wear a mask upon my face.

No longer having to be as insecure.

To be free.

Thank you, Pride.

Sincerley,

Me.

[sabu123098]

If love was personified, it would be Xaden Riorson.

Xaden is ruthless, but he can also be compassionate. He is selfless when he needs to be, but selfish when he wants to be. He'd die for his loved ones, but kill too. He wouldn't pay much attention to anything that concerns him, but would leave no rock unturned when it comes to his loved ones. He would never take his loved ones for granted, but he won't tell them he wouldn't either. Xaden Riorson would never backstab you, but would happily accept the dagger you stab him with. It is dangerous to be with him, at such close proximity, but impossible to move away. He has the power to completely ruin you, and yet you will not be able to leave. You'll stay, and you'll stay because you know he would never.

And they're a few reasons why Violet loves him.

It's either you completely drown in him or you don't. But if you do, then it would become the most beautiful thing you'll feel like you could do. And you wouldn't ever want to stop.

Because when the burning in your chest will feel like home, you'll never know.

Just like Violet didn't.

There is no 'Xaden with someone else' or 'Violet with someone else'.

It's simply them. You'd be a fool to think they would let each other go. You'd be a fool to think one of them deserves to be with someone else.

Because if Xaden is the poem, Violet is the poet.

Because if Violet is the art, Xaden is the artist.

There is no one without the other ❤️

[lamentofspring]

my precious mimi, my sweet sacrificial lamb ♡ / ophelia, friedrich heyser / tell me when it hurts, flower face / call me by your name (2017) / paper doll, flower face / the carnivorous lamb, agustín gómez-arcos / there sleeps titania, john simmons / viviane, renée vivien / mythological beauty, big thief / greek anthology; epigrams, antipater of sidon / in a week, hozier & karen cowly / my love mine all mine, mitski / venus verticordia, rossetti / nathan, flower face / cornflower blue, flower face / @tendermimi ♡

[ragewrites]

...Believe it or not, this poem is actually about how much I hate the paperwork involved in getting international shipments through Customs clearance.

[thelioncourts]

+

[dancinatmyfuneral]

change

not my first poem and definitely not my best (wrote this for my boyfriend and he hasnt even read it yet)

she is unexpected,

but she arrives

when you are most in need

of her gifts.

she will take your blank face

in her hands,

and guide you.

you will resist her pull,

but she knows best.

she will lead you

to your light,

but still,

she will not rest.

she is wise,

but you will not listen to her

until you cannot live without

the light she provides.

this light is what you've needed

for all of these days,

spent alone,

in need of purpose.

she will leave when she is sure

that you won't turn off your light,

and when she returns,

you will be basking in it.

she will want to make it brighter,

but you have known so much darkness,

that just this light,

just this bright,

is just right.

she couldn't make it brighter if she tried.

[a-personiftranslator]

Cityspirit

—

First I was a thought:

Come to a hundred people’s consciousness,

A mass of lines on a grid,

Or the cabin of an adult they still call a kid.

I wake

Years later

Flexing hands of bricks and mortar.

You knew instantly.

My skin sheds in bursts and bluffs;

Hundred-year-old patches cling to my neck through dust.

They are wrinkled and abandoned,

Or gated and cordoned

Waiting for you to uncover.

Human skin-

Which is also mine-

Mixes with my stones

My bones

Your home.

Blood,

In place of cars and

Trains and

Lanes,

Fills your veins.

It is in your image I’m made,

It is your form my avatar maintains.

To you:

I am the woman who takes you home,

Wrapping night-wool around your window when you’re all alone,

Silent listener to your groans

Because despite everything-

My veins are congested,

Millions of tons of food wasted,

Held up by structures mostly untested.

I’ve often been bested.

But isn’t that just like you?

[poetsofthestars]

"Dammit Bastard, Love Me!"

(written by Mystic)

Time had space, space had reality

That was what I was taught, after all

So when I met the Time Lord

I thought I had it all

Maybe I was wrong, maybe I was right

But I wanted to feel love from

The other piece of the universe

But apparently the world had other ideas

I was left alone in the dust

While he gallivanted with humans and aliens

With immortals and creatures

And all alone, I, the creature of reality, of wormholes

I felt left alone by the creature of time, of space

Maybe I could convince him to love me

Maybe I could find a way to have his love

So dammit bastard, love me!

I’m supposed to be yours!

Not a human, nor another alien

Just me, you’re supposed to be mine

And I’m supposed to be yours

But I guess I can’t stop you from loving whoever…

[buglyknight]

506) I spoke your name

I feel like I was just birthed

With one direction

To love you.

My whole body tensed in a fetal position

Curling around nothing

I was so small you crushed me

And so I burned myself alive

And became a star so I could

Glow just for you

My jaw still forms your name

Like the only word it knows

Like the most significant word in this universe

My teeth hurt

My hands hurt from trying to hold you

My whole body feels numb

Like I spent last night lifting a mountain

I burned with you, forever

But I missed holding such beautiful hands

When I was here again

My brain was a mess of words

And languages I couldn't grasp

It was all mixed up gunk

But your name

Why did it have to be your name?

This ugly love that nobody wants

I curse you with it

Like you cursed me upon my existence

She is the center of my universe

And last night she told me she was leaving, again.

[honeyednotes]

Untitled

wildly flailing in the wind

air is what fuels me, my

carefree attitude is envied by many

kind eyes that always make

you smile, that's all I ever desire

will you dance with me?

abandon your baggage and just sway

variety is the spice of life, don't

you know?

if you do not dance

now and then, did you really live?

falling clumsily over yourself for

lack of coordination is

a human experience, we were all

toddlers once upon a time

and we must fail in order to learn

but

learn we do, and in the

end, you'll wish you had just danced

for this life is so short for feeling so

long

and this is the only one you get

in your next life, the lessons you have

learned here will guide you, and

I promise, dancing is worth it

no need to learn fancy choreo, just

groove

all you need is a little

rhythm, and when you find it,

move to it

this is your body, your life, and

under no circumstances are you

blameless if it is squandered

enough of this "I am not worthy"

magic needs your direction

and so do you,

now dance

by Brie Thomson

[kianri-ah]

wilmon saint valentines fic ‼️‼️

[ellebaggaley]

In the middle of the cold,

In the cold of winter,

A car crashes on the narrow and icy highway.

The wheels screeching and screaming.

It’s passengers floundering inside uncontrollably,

Wrecked and bruised,

Snowflakes sitting atop the hood,

The jaded and jagged blue Honda Civic

Now wearily rests silently.

[pebblegalaxy]

Whimsical Time: A Playful Limerick About a Clock's Emotional Journey

W3 Prompt #115: Wea’ve Written Weekly This image is of a whimsical clock with expressive, animated faces around it, showing various emotions. The clock itself has a joyful, silly smile. Create a limerick inspired by the image above.How to write a limerickCreate an AABBA rhyme scheme. A limerick has five lines. The first, second, and fifth line should rhyme with each other. This is rhyme “A.” To…

[slxthserenade]

Spring passes just as quickly as it approached, right inbetween my fingers, yet the ink still runs through the quill’s end as surely as the blood in my veins.

In just two months. June’s end. Where will we be ? Are you yet another fleeting spring to be quietly added onto my shelf, left to collect dust ? Yet another fleeting spring, to wordlessly line the seventeen others beside it ? Spitefully ornate collection.

Yet another spring. Is it you ? Is it me ? Is there such a thing as us ? The questions are endless and poetry has run its course. After all, what are words to the only one who has left me speechless ? How do I return to quill’s sharp cold when your warmth still lingers on my hand ?

I know, I ask for what’s not mine. Selfishly, I ask for your image not to fade from my mind, for my verses not to lose their colour. Even more selfishly, I ask for you to stay. It isn’t an eternal spring I yearn for, no. It’s to see you by my side, to see how summer lights up the brown of your hair, how the December frost colours your cheeks red, how the autumn wind makes your eyes close. How spring and all its shades decorate your hair, as I place flowers on your pretty waves.

[ibyul]

.

[solivagantsoul1306]

falling into the hands of you (i never thought i'd be much safer)

I imagine myself,

falling into someone's arms,

caressing me, soft and protective.

I hear a voice,

deep, rough and baritone, yet the words they speak

is something which I've never expected one to say.

"My poor child, you've suffered enough. Now rest."

Tears glistened my eyes as I open them,

And then i realized,

I've fallen in the hands of Death.