Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

I Once Had A Dream (A note to my exes)

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I once had a dream that you loved me.
I dreamed that you had changed.
But when I opened my eyes you were gone, and I realized
That you were just the same.

I once had a dream that you were a man
I had a dream that you were true.
I once had a dream that someone broke my trust, and when I opened my eyes
I realized that it was you.

I know now that you won’t change.
I know not to trust you with my heart.
I know I am at the finish line,
And you are just at the start.

I know now that you cannot hurt me.
I know that I have to move on.
But when I think about everything that could have been,
I close my eyes and realize you are gone.

At first it hurt when I laid down.
To see that you were not there.
To know that when I have a dream,
It was really a nightmare.

Now that my heart has healed
From all the damage you have done
I hope one day you will get it together
And turn into that one.

A one that people can trust.
A one that is a good man.
A one that others can look up to,
Not just empty footprints in the sand.

Maybe one day you will learn.
Maybe at that time you will grow
Maybe at that time you will learn to love me,
And I will tell you no.

Too much damage was done.
Something that cannot be repaired.
I hope more than anything though.
That my dream does not turn into a nightmare.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

If I Knew Then What I Know Now. A Note To My High school Self (with diary excerpts) (#TheSW30) Day 18

Displaying KIMG0136.JPGToday’s blogging challenge is to look back and have a conversation with my highschool self.  It is very fortunate for me that I have a very “normal” highschool life.  I was very focused, kept my grades up, planned to go to college, and I had all my life planned out.  I was a very intense highschooler.


Even though I was moderately popular I guess you could say, I was still a little weird, and sometimes an outsider among my friends.  I think back then it used to bother me.  My friends in high school were having sex, really into boys, and doing things that I was very afraid to do.  I just was not that extroverted.  There was a time that I used to resent the way I was.

I find it  funny, because I think it was just meant for me to be a a writer.  I maintained  a dairy from the time I was in highschool until about my first year of college.  And I I saved them.

It amazing me how I write about being called stuck up by the boys in highschool because of my unwillingness to be loose.  And so I wrote this poem at 15 years old to express just how I saw others:

My Poem At age 15. 


This is coming from a friend, I must let you know. 
That Girlfriend You are a Hoe. 
The reason why boys want to tap that a**. 
Is because you do not want the relationship to last. 
They will dis you in public, and think nothing of it. 
And they have you thinking you are all that, when you are just a used up piece of trash. 
You give it up too soon. 
Then they turn, laugh, and call you a fool.  
Displaying KIMG0134.JPGSo what you think they’ll leave their girlfriend for you?
You are just a little tramp they will run to and use. 
No one likes you and talks behind your back. 
And you best believe it girl, that is a fact. 
And just because they act like they want you now,
You wait to other people come around. 
Now you suck his d*** and let him work it all night. 
But other people are calling you a hoe, and you know what? They are right. 

It amazes me how much sense my 15 years old self had.  It seemed like my 15 years old self had more sense that my young 20 year old self.  Because somewhere along the lines I would start to date men that were not good for me and get into bad relationships.  It would seem as if my 15 years old self would need to come back and talk to my young 20 something years old self.  I can recall that when I was in my late teens and early 20’s is the time in which I started going crazy for no reason what so ever.  And my 15 years old self may have been on to something.  If I had remembered this poem, I may have not gotten into a lot of the relationships that I got myself into.

And then I come across another poem that I wrote when I was 16.  It gives an idea that I am the same type of person, even 14 years later.  So determined to finished.  Feeling that I was behind the race when in fact I wasn’t, and beating myself up over the fact that I was not perfect.

Poem Age 16 


I am so confused and isolated inside. 
I feel so lost and it is hard to say why. 
I am in a not in a strange place driving, but it still feels like I’m striving
To get where I want to go. 
Displaying KIMG0132.JPGBut sometimes it seems like I am moving too slow. 
I am trapped and 4 walls are closing in on me. 
I feel I have no friends and all of them are my enemies. 
Their pulling me in all directions, and I hear their words of rejections. 
That is leading down the wrong road, but I keep strong and stay bold.  
There is one thing that I do know, I am going everywhere, but where I want to go. 

When reading this I was a very intense teenager.  I cannot help but to laugh at the theatrics as well as the similarities to myself now.

I think God can speak to people at such a young age.  When you have a calling on your life, God will call out from whatever age you are ready to hear it.  I still feel like I am going slow sometimes.  I still feel like I am not moving toward my destination fast enough, but when I look back on all the things that I have accomplished in my 30 years of living, I realize that this is not true.

I am on the path God created me to be on.  I was also on the right path then.  I would tell my self self more than anything, that it is okay.  I am going to be okay.  I would tell myself not to be afraid to be weird, stand out, or not to get upset because I do not conform to others peoples’s idea of how I am supposed to act.

Displaying KIMG0133.JPGI learned this lesson as an adult, and it seemed that once I did, I was okay with being me.  But before this time as seen in the second poem, I would beat myself up for reasons I could not put my finger on.  And it was because I was trying to be of the world and not outside of it, and so I felt frustration, because I felt the need to conform to those around me, but also felt the need to be me.

If I could talk to myself back then, I would say.

“You are a star, and you are beautiful.  Who cares if you are dark skinned and you do not fit into the stereotypical view of beauty? Who cares that your mind works different and other people do not understand you? Who cares if you have dreams to go above and beyond what anyone can imagine?  And who cares if you do not want to run around with boys and have sex with them at 15 years old?  It’s okay. Be you, and shine bright like stars were meant to do.”

Displaying KIMG0135.JPGI would give myself, the self esteem that I needed.  Being an African American female, who has a shapely figure, and who is dark was not always seen as beautiful; I struggled with myself a lot.  If anything I would instill in my head that God created me for a reason.  God does not make mistakes and I am and look exactly the way I am suppose to.  I would tell myself to deal with it and accept it.  If I had known that, I would have saved myself a lot of internal struggle and my need for validation from men in the late teens and early 20’s.

Since I cannot talk to my younger self, I talk to my son all the time.  He is weird like me, and I let him know that not only is this okay, but it is a beautiful thing to stand out.

(Click here and here on my other blogs on being unique and standing out).

This I hope will help him avoid some of the internal struggle I faced as a teen and help him grow into a successful  adults.

Monday, September 29, 2014

I Have The Ability

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When people meet me, they think I am frail, they think I am weak, and they think I will fail.

When people see me, they judge me, laugh at me, and do anything they can to get in my way.

But I know something they don’t, and I see things they can’t.

I have the ability.

As I walk with my head held high, I am secure in myself, they can’t make me cry.

As they watch me and see me.

They think I should conform to their world, but I make them conform to mine.

With my head held high, My heels clicking the ground, I pass everyone by.

A sophisticated poise I have the ability, I feel I can fly.

I am in the world, but not of it.. You want to conform, and I want to stand out.

I have the ability to be what I was created to be.
As I walk on a path paved by God himself. You’ll see.

I have the ability to be great, and because I believe.

 I have the ability to achieve what I want to achieve.

With my head held high and my cheek on my hand, I have the ability to intimidate you with a glance.

I do not have to shout and I do not have to fight, I have all this great ability through the power of my mind.

I think therefore I am, and I am therefore I know, I have the ability and through every pore of my skin and it shows.

So why they may laugh, bully, and make fun of me; they do not realize that they are in bondage and I am set free.

I have the ability to do what I want, and with my ability I sleep with the stars.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

The Caged Bird (Inside the mind of a suicidal)

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This post was written by someone who was highly depressed and suicidal.  The writer wishes to remain anonymous.  I do not condone suicide in any way shape of form, but thought this may give insight to the mind of someone who is suicidal and dealing with depression.

The Caged Eagle. 


I feel like a caged bird, or better yet a caged eagle.

I am strong, I know I can fly, and I know  I am capable.

But I look through the bars of my cage and realize  I just cannot get out and fly.

I look at the sky and know that is where I am supposed to be, but I just can’t get there.

Day in and day out my owner comes to feed me bird food.

I know its not what I need, I know its not what I was meant to live off of.

And I just can’t get stronger.

And so I starve, and I grow weak.

I hope  one day my owner would unlock the cage so I could go free.

I spend all of my energy, trying to get out of the cage.

As I lay down exhausted, I realize that even if my owner unlocked the cage I would be too exhausted to fly out.

And so, I am an useless eagle.

Unable to do what I was meant to, and I lay down to die.

While I was in the cage, everyone looks at the eagle admiring it.

Never thinking or understanding what it was like for me.

Saying how beautiful and how majestic.

But when it died, everyone talked about the eagle.

Saying it was a shame and how it never belong in that cage.

But no one ever did anything about it.

The owner thought he was helping the eagle by putting it in the cage and taking care of it.

But he was really hurting it, by caging it and not allowing it to fly.

And so the eagle died.

And in it’s death it could do all the things it could not do while it was in the cage.

It could  fly and it could soar!

It was free.

That is how I feel.

That in death, I could be free.

I do not think anyone could understand that.  Not even God.

He is the owner of the eagle, refusing to let it fly.

He thinks He is helping it, when in fact He is killing it.

He is killing me.


If you or someone you know is suicidal call the national suicide hot line 1-800-273-8255 or visit their website. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline