Introvert

introvertIn a dark, blank space

I stand in isolation,

but never alone.

 

 

 


Picture source: pinterest

My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.

Flower Weeds

flower weeds pic

The flames flicker and illuminate

three misfits

laughing under the stars.

One weaves crowns of white and green,

then adorns their heads

and declares them royalty.

 

The king comments that they’re crowned

in weeds, and the princess

who wove them

responds that they’re flowers.

They argue, joke,

and fall from their thrones

as the flames flicker on.

And when the moon lazily reaches its peak,

the queen declares them

flower weeds.

 

The princess and king happily agree

and the royals continue in peace.

For when the flames flicker and die,

they’ll go their separate ways.

The flower weeds will be cast aside,

but their crowns will forever remain.


*(Note: This whole poem is based on a real life moment just a few days earlier. I would rather not explain the symbolism because it’s difficult to explain and specific to us. Those involved will understand when they read it. For the rest of you, you don’t need to understand. It can be whatever you imagine.)

Picture source: pinterest

My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.

 

Dear Future Me

image

Dear future me,
I wonder who you’ll be.
Will you love? Will you hate?
Will you make or break?
What will you dream
when you have time to think?
What will you say
to keep you going every day?
Will you hold on
when your world goes all wrong,
or will you fall apart
and have to restart?

Dear future me,
just remember to breathe.
Let go of your anger and fear.
Remember why you’re here.
Remember what you’ve learned:
how easily the tables can turn,
how far you can fall,
the power of standing tall.
Always offer your help,
and above all else,
don’t forget to smile.
A smile can go for miles.

Dear future me,
I hope you find yourself free.
I hope you accept your past
and live life to its last.
I hope that you find joy,
whether you build or destroy.
I hope you cling to faith
and that you never hesitate.
I hope I did what was right—
that my actions are a guide.
I hope you chase your dreams.
I hope you remember me.


Picture source: The Impact

My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.

A Place for Us

It’s strange to think that, after everything,
it’s time to say goodbye.
I can’t very well imagine a world
without a flag in my hands
or a show in my mind, but
I suppose I’ll have to try.
Four years of my life, gone in a flash.
It’s impossible to grasp that
my time has come.
I’m moving on
to bigger and better things,
and though I’m nervous,
I’m ready.
I know whatever happens,
whatever trials I face,
I will overcome.
This Guard has shown me
the strength that I have
when I fight.
The lessons I have learned
through long days under a blazing sun,
through endless hours in a too-bright gym,
through scrapes and bruises and pain,
have helped me grow into
someone better.
I no longer fear
the glare of a spotlight.
I no longer believe
in limitations.
In the midst of exhaustion, I’ll remember
Perseverance
and I’ll push myself just a little further.
I’ll never give up
because a true Guard Girl
is stronger than that.
And no matter where I go,
no matter what I face,
I’ll never forget that nervous excitement
as I step onto the floor with my girls,
as I face the crowd in Dayton arena,
as I set my equipment and take deep breaths,
as I find my place for the beginning of the show,
as I hear the words, “Is the Guard ready?”,
as I feel it all leave me in one final breath.
And I’ll remember that feeling
when the show music starts
and all that’s left is
Guard.


*(Note: It took me a long time to manage to write this. This is basically my farewell to Guard. I’ve finished off my last season, and now that whole piece of my life is over. It’s been hard to comprehend, but I’m coping alright. The title of the poem was the show title for this past season.)

Picture source: *I’m looking for the perfect picture. I’ll get one up soon, pinkie promise!*

My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.

Name Plates

image

I wander through the gift shop
packed with pointless knick knacks
and tourist traps
until I reach my elder kin.
He’s already holding out his prize,
the metal square printed with the name “Adam.”
First on the shelf, just like every other store,
and I ignore him to begin my own quest.

But as I search, I find that there’s
no space between “Holly” and “Hunter.”
I search the whole shelf, but I should know by now
my search will forever remain
fruitless.

My father guides me to the opposite end
where the inspirational words
sit and gather dust.
And there is my name,
next to “faith”
and under “love.”
There it hides, amongst all the other words
that will never make the name plates.

What will it take for the world to understand
I am not an idea,
but a person?
I suppose you expect me to be satisfied
by frilly Christmas ornaments
or those silly, inscribed stones
that people buy just to cast aside,
never to be seen again.

But I am not just some pretty face
that can be discarded so easily.
I am a person,
a human being,
and I expect to be treated as such.
All I want
is to find a filled slot
right in between “Holly” and “Hunter”
taken up by the name “Hope.”


*(Note: Yes, this is from real life experience and yes, it really does annoy me. If you are reading this and own a gift shop, please make sure to have name plates with a variety of names on them, including uncommon names. And don’t just leave out names like “Hope” and “Faith.” We want name plates too.)

Picture source: ebay

My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.

“Skinny is Good”

image

One day I was proud to be a child’s large.
The next I was proud to be a junior’s small.

Voices surround me and preach,
“Skinny is good.”
A constant siren, echoing my every breath.
I have been morphed into the world’s version
of what I should be, a vision of who
they want to see, and I am
controlled by their words and will.

“Skinny is good.”

My mind has lost its ability to define
beauty based on me, but rather
on what the world says it should be:
the sinful eyes and hungry voices chanting
“Skinny is good.”

And so I look in the mirror, and my eyes
travel to my sides, and I think,
“Skinny is good.”

And my meals become small, and my hunger
weakens
until it is nearly nonexistent, because
“Skinny is good.”

And I step on the scale that
weighs my life, and I peer down at the number
so far away, and I frown and whisper,
“Skinny is good.”

And in no time, my waist is nothing more than
stretched, pearly skin over
weak, pearly bones.
And I look in the mirror, and I can’t
see through my tears as I promise myself,
“Skinny is good.”

And the clothes that once stretched
as I wiggled into their depths
now hang loosely from my disfigured frame.
I move them, tug on them,
beg them to make me look whole,
but they can’t lie for me any longer.
I can practically hear their laughter,
their jeers and taunts at my murmurs of
“Skinny is good.”

And then I’m on the floor, trying to
stand, arms shaking and breath heavy because
I just can’t.
So I curl up on the ground in a tight ball,
praying that I might survive long enough
to see the reflection of a girl
who’s beautiful.

And I can’t help but wonder,
how can skinny be good?


*(Note: I mentioned in a past post that there was a time in my life where I struggled with self-esteem and confidence. This poem is a recollection of that time of struggle. It is written from real-life experience. If you are struggling as I did, always remember, you are beautiful. Love yourself, no matter what others say. You are never alone.)

Picture source: AGENDA

My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.

Ode to a Gummy Bear

Colorful and yummy,
in a larger form cuddly,
you are always a gift to have.
Chewy and fruity,
my favorite of all candy,
second only to
chocolate.

imageYou often come
in a small, golden bag.
And you come with
many memories.

A big sister
in every way but blood
coming from a foreign land
with the gift of you
in that little golden bag.

A little boy
in a Disney movie
who lost his older brother
to a fire.
Who lost his parents before
even that.
Who fought with himself,
with depression,
with loss.
Who found himself
with the help of his friends
—his team—
and a giant marshmallow
robot.

imageAnd to me,
they mean me trying to
get better.
Making a deal with a friend
that if I figured something out,
I’d get some of you.
And so,
I got better.

It’s that friend giving me
only half a bag,
and us laughing over it,
and me missing her
because she left
for college.
And she lived her life
just as she needed to.

They’re an inside joke
between my best friend
and I.
Of sneaking stale blues and purples
and pretending to hate.
imageAlways pretend
because she’s always my friend.
I’ll never be alone,
never again.
I am surrounded by those
who care.

Oh Gummy Bear,
you mean more to me
than you should,
but I can’t bring myself
to care.
I’m just happy you exist.
Thank you
for everything.


*(Note: I have recently edited this ode, and now I’m quite satisfied with it. It’s a lot of reminiscing and gratitude, so I hope you enjoy!)

Picture sources: Mr. Munden’s Math Matters

A Beautiful Mess

Disorderly Chikadee

My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.