Guest Posted March 1, 2003 Share Posted March 1, 2003 How happily she crys as she sails the angry seas. Spreading out the ashes of things that used to be. Ready to face the things that hurt her all these years. Tired of running from feelings and deep internal fears. She'll look to the sunlight and let it warm her skin. It's time to end the fight and find some peace within. From a 16 year old poet..... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Posted March 10, 2003 Share Posted March 10, 2003 I'm sorry.....I was very angry when im wrote this.....im so upset.....i dont know how to put myself back together...but i thought maybe this poem would help other...maybe some of you can relate to this? [before you turn your cheek] A child's body is not a play thing, a painless little toy. A child's soul is not an object for a man to destroy. If a child has innocence it's quickly ripped away and coldly devoured to her terrified dismay. What is it about a child that fascinates a man? Is it the never-broken innocence of sleeping beauty and peter pan? The adults say there's no monsters but a child can prove them wrong because shes felt an ogre's hands in places they don't belong. What's wrong with the world when it chooses to turn its cheek and ignore the crying children the obscure, the scared, the weak? To hear the excuses and cliches that rise up in a public place until a child's funeral is held and a community becomes a disgrace. Where is god when a child is hurt does he see the pain in tiny eyes? Does he see the way men look at her quieting her with their filthy lies? Does he hear the words filled with hate that make an innocent child sob in shame because shes told she wanted it, shes a whore? when in truth shes not the one to blame. What about when she's punched in the face? Can she ever forget that metallic taste? that forms on her tongue and makes her gag with the bruises forming in a new place. Will this cycle ever end? The child suffers, the man lives lies build up, magnify the pain and push until something gives. So say it again, scream it if you must will this cycle ever end? Is this really the moral message that we want to send? Think about the children before you turn you cheek stand up for their rights, the obscure, the scared, the weak. - LJW March 7, 2004, 3:24 a.m. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Posted March 24, 2003 Share Posted March 24, 2003 Here's one that reminds me that everyone is on their own journey. I figure dealing with abuse just speeds up the process in some ways... The Invitation It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine and your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine and your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstacy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning to be careful, to be realistic or to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can dissapoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday, and if you can source your life from its presence. I want to know If you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver moon “YES!” It doesn’t interest me where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children. It doesn’t interest me who you are or how you came to be here. I want to know if you stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn’t interest me where or with whom you have studied, I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in empty moments. Oriah Mountain Dreamer ~ Indian Elder Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 26, 2004 Share Posted February 26, 2004 The Wild Iris by Louise Gluck At the end of my suffering there was a door. Hear me out: that which you call death I remember. Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting Then nothing. The weak sun flickered over the dry surface. It is terrible to survive as consciousness buried in the deep earth Then it was over: that which you fear, being a soul and unable to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth bending a little. And what I took to be birds darting in low shrubs. You who do not remember passage from the other world I tell you I could speak again: whatever returns from oblivion returns to find a voice: from the center of my life came a great fountain, deep blue shadows on azure seawater Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 26, 2004 Share Posted February 26, 2004 The Wild Geese by Mary Oliver You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the suan and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over and prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clear blue sky are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting over and over announcing your place in the family of things. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 28, 2004 Share Posted February 28, 2004 You Are Not Broken by Becky Birtha You are not broken, beautiful child. Nothing about you is wrong. Other people have made their mistakes on you. But you survived. You are whole. You will heal, you will be all you ever wanted. You no longer remain the victim of those years Your body is yours. You can fill it with joy. Your thoughts are in your control. You feelings are as free as the sound of chiming bells. You are loved. You are lovable beautiful child. You always were. You are forgiven. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 28, 2004 Share Posted February 28, 2004 Pierced Ears by Cheryl Marie Wade My left ear I pierced to say no because I had not the strength to form the word. Through the hole in my left ear I placed a gold band of my father's betrayal. My right ear I pierced to say I am a woman; I belong to all piercings of all women of all ages I pierced my right ear to link my arms with the first dark woman who shoved a sliver of bone through her nose to claim to reclaim In my right ear I wear the silver loop of my survival. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 28, 2004 Share Posted February 28, 2004 An Act of Faith by Barbara Jordan In the water I see stars, among the reeds the mountain of my face, and across a distance two geese in the twilight of the lake, like stilletos. So many touchstones. I lean toward life, I unbuckle the flowers' roots, hold birds and know the privilege, know the trees as vessels of shadow. And if the sky is gray and anguished gray above a field before a storm-- and the leaves shake, shake, shake with a spiritual palsy-- I look over my shoulder unsure; am I observed or do I observe? Let show all things splendid, in their darker nature splendid also. Lord, you know the mask of my face, how I peer at the world from under a leaf, from under the squint of my intelligence. I can't comprehend or find contradiction in evidence of past milleniums, the broken, ancient skulls, galaxies behind the sun. Certainly all creatures pause and gaze benignly into the air, into the light where birds fly and are gone: this is the light I lean toward. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 28, 2004 Share Posted February 28, 2004 turning by Lucille Clifton turning into my own turning on in to my own self at last turning out of the white cage, turning out of the lady cage turning at last on a stem like a black fruit in my own season at last Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 28, 2004 Share Posted February 28, 2004 The Healing Time by Pesha Gertler Finally on my way to yes I bump into all the places where I said no to my life all the untended wounds the red and purple wounds those heiroglyphs of pain carved into my skin, my bones, those coded messages that send me down the wrong street again and again where I find them the old wounds the old misdirections and I lift them one by one close to my heart and I say holy holy. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 28, 2004 Share Posted February 28, 2004 Healing: A New Moon Planting by Kate i plant a seed i am the seed the dark moon hangs low in the sky the dark goddess speaks to the seed i am the seed i am the goddess i change am i still myself i ask as i break through my husk i reach toward the sky the earth enfolds me and supports me i am the earth am i still me? I ask the earth who nourishes and embraces me with love yes she says you are still you and are becoming more and more your true self she pushes me upwards through the dark soil her embrace reassures me of my own inner truth as I rise as I break the surface and breathe the sweet fresh air rising towards the moon the dark goddess bend to plant a kiss the moon Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 28, 2004 Share Posted February 28, 2004 Sacred Circle by Kate heart womb eggs soul woman sacred circles traveling on a journey seeking other sacred circles beginnings and endings continuing creating more sacred circles only to emerge again sacred circle self Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest katehealer Posted February 28, 2004 Share Posted February 28, 2004 Woman by Kate I am woman I rise and fall with the tide the moon's phases become written upon my face each month I swell and bleed answering a wild call from within and without I bleed I bleed and I revel in my rebirth Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Afflicted_with_Fire Posted February 13, 2005 Share Posted February 13, 2005 i am accused of tending to the past by Lucille Clifton i am accused of tending to the past as if i made it, as if i sculpted it with my own hands. i did not. this past was waiting for me when i came, a monstrous unnamed baby, and i with my mother's itch took it to breast and named it History. she is more human now, learning languages everyday, remembering faces, names and dates. when she is strong enough to travel on her own, beware, she will All of her poetry to me is wonderful, although this is my favorite, especially the last two lines Robin Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Broken_wings Posted November 19, 2005 Share Posted November 19, 2005 (edited) Comes the dawn After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't always mean security and you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead with the grace of a woman not the grief of a child and you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow 's ground is too uncertain for plans and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight. After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much so you plant your garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. And you learn that you really can endure that you really are strong and you really have worth and you learn and you learn with every goodbye you learn. Written by Veronica A.Shoffstall I apologise if this has already been posted, i did look through and couldn't see it xx Edited November 19, 2005 by Broken_wings Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Broken_wings Posted November 19, 2005 Share Posted November 19, 2005 Wouldn't this old world be better If the folks we meet would say, "I know something good about you!" And then treat us just that way? Wouldn't it be fine and dandy If each handclasp warm and true Carried with it this assurance, "I know something good about you!" Wouldn't life be lots more happy, If the good that's in us all Were the only thing about us That folks bothered to recall? Wouldn't life be lots more happy, If we praised the good we see? - For there's such a lot of goodness In the worst of you and me. Wouldn't it be nice to practice That fine way of thinking, too?- You know something good about me! I know something good about you! ~Author Unknown~ Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Andie Posted November 27, 2005 Share Posted November 27, 2005 (edited) A weary wanderer laid down her head And wept of the earth And found comfort in the warm, soothing, breathing pulses of her. Andie Edited December 19, 2005 by Andie Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ellesurvived Posted November 11, 2007 Share Posted November 11, 2007 Thank you so much for posting this Em. For Children Who Were Brokenit is very hard to mend...... Our pain was rarely spoken and we hid the truth from friends.<p>Our parents said they loved us, but they didn't act that way. They broke our hearts and stole our worth, with the things that they would say.<p>We wanted them to love us. We didn't know what we did to make them yell at us and hit us, and wish we weren't their kid.<p>They'd beat us up and scream at us and blame us for their lives. Then they'd hold us close inside their arms and tell us confusing lies of how they really loved us -- even though we were BAD, and how it was OUR fault they hit us, OUR fault that they were mad.<p>When days were just beginning we sometimes prayed for them to end, and when the pain kept coming, we learned to just pretend that we were good and so were they and this was just on of those days ... tomorrow we'd be friends.<p>We had to believe it so. We had nowhere else to go.<p>Each day that we pretended, we replaced reality with lies, or dreams,or angry schemes, in search of dignity .... until our lies got bigger than the truth, and we had no one real to be<p>Our bodies were forsaken. With no safe place to hide, we learned to stop hearing and feeling what they did to our outsides.<p>We tried to make them love us, till we hated ourselves instead, and couldn't see a way out, and wished that they were dead. We scared ourselves by thinking that,<p>and scared ourselves to know, that we were acting just like them -- and might ever more be so.<p>To be half the size of a grown-up and trapped inside their pain.... To every day lose everything with no savior or refrain... To wonder how it is possible that God could so forget the worthy child you knew you were, when you had not been damaged yet ... To figure on your fingers that the years till you'd be grown enough to leave the torment and survive away from home, were more than you could count to, or more than you could bear, was the reality we lived in and we knew it wasn't fair.<p>We who grew up broken are somewhat out of time, struggling to mend our childhood, when our peers are in their prime. Where others find love and contentment, we still often have to strive to remember we are worthy, and heroes just to be alive.<p>Some of us are healing. some are stealing. Most are passing the anger on. Some give their lives away to drugs, or the promise of like beyond. Some still hide from society. Some struggle to belong. But all of us are wishing the past would not hold on so long.<p>There's a lot of digging down to do to find the child within, to love away the ugly pain and feel innocence again. There is forgiveness worthy of angel's wings for remembering those at all, who abused our sacred childhood and programmed us to fall. To seek to understand them, and how their pain became our own, is to risk the ground we stand on to climb the mountain home.<p>The journey is not so lonely as in the past it s been ... More of us are strong enough to let the growth begin. But while we're trekking up the mountain we need everything we've got, to face the adults we have become, and all that we are not.<p>So when you see us weary from the day's internal climb ... When we find fault with your best efforts, or treat imperfection as purposeful crime ... When you see our quick defenses, our efforts to control, our readiness to form a plan of unrealistic goals ... When we run into a conflict and fight to the bitter end, remember ... We think that winning means we won't be hurt again.<p>When we abandon OUR thoughts and feelings, to be what we believe YOU want us to, or look at trouble we are having, and want to blame it all on you... When life calls for new beginnings, and we fear they re doomed to end, remember... Wounded trust is like a wounded knee-- It is very hard to bend.<p>Please remember this when we are out of sorts. Tell us the truth, and be our friend. For children who were broken... it is very hard to mend.<p>by Elia Wise Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
troubleinparadise Posted November 15, 2007 Share Posted November 15, 2007 This has become one of my favourite poems. It is amazing! The Guest House This being human is aguest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meannes, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. - Rumi Each time I read it, I find a new meaning. I love this poem. hugs, troubleinparadise Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
NJM Posted February 3, 2008 Share Posted February 3, 2008 I. Joy, love, and an open heart Still the mind and silence the breeze Great waves of sympathy roll over My innocent, smiling countenance. Forever more my soul sings alight, Blowing flames into a golden sun, Gently shedding its silent light In the passion, the fruit of the great essence The one that stands alone, like no other Warmth whose limits know no bounds And the force that rules them all But never shows its smiling face. II. The night air blows across my skin as the moonlight streams down in between silver clouds, gracing my face with a gentle glow…crickets stir the air into a nocturnal symphony, and my eyes grow heavy with the bliss of deep sleep. III. The essence of life flows far afield From a river so deep…who can comprehend it? From the countless colored diamonds love flows out And toward the tide of infinity it returns Like a butterfly drawn to an ocean of nectar It echoes in a bottomless pool of being As it has, and ever shall be, that one force That one force called me. IV. Time passes like a dewdrop Rolling down the stem of a leaf It rolls faster and faster And falls to the ground Caught in the fold, can we dewdrops Fall into the lake, and not onto the Hard rocks? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
kittykat Posted March 15, 2008 Share Posted March 15, 2008 I don't know whether this is classed as poetry but was sent to me at a difficult time. It helped me so I thought I would share it I HAVE THE RIGHT... to live according to my own conscience, not someone else's. to make my own choices about priorities, and live accordingly. to make decisions based on my feelings, intuition, values, needs, capabilities or anything I choose to base them on. to say no to anything that I'm not prepared to do. to refuse anything that's against my values or feels too dangerous. to protect myself from threatening behaviour, humiliating attitudes and hurtful words. not to trust and believe in people and things that don't feel trustworthy or credible. to say yes to whatever helps my own growth and well-being. to trust and believe in people and things on whatever grounds I choose to. to forgive others and myself. to find and learn to know my inner child. to feel whatever I feel about my past. to have all feelings I do, and to express them. to be disappointed and sad for what I didn't get even though I'd have needed it, or what I got and didn't want to have. to be angry even at one I love, when (s)he frustrates my needs or violates my rights. to be fearful, feel unsafe and be careful. to feel good when someone else feels bad, and vice versa. to ask for what I feel: closeness, distance, togetherness, privacy, etc. to take care of myself. to want, dream of, and long for anything. have my feelings, needs, values, wants and choices appreciated. not to assume responsibility and guilt for others' feelings, needs, values, choices or behaviour. to expect another person to act honestly and justly. to be different: more healthy, sicker, weaker, stronger, more hung up, less hung up etc. than others. to be tempted, to fail, to make mistakes and to be imperfect. to learn, to change and to grow, anytime and all the time. As I'm not a slave of my rights, I also have the right to give up any right I have, but from now on I'm going to do it out of love -- never out of fear any more. IT IS MY DUTY: to respect these as all other people's rights, too. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
healingspirit Posted November 19, 2010 Share Posted November 19, 2010 This is a poem by Becky Birtha that has helped me a lot: You are not broken, beautiful child Nothing about you is wrong Other people have made their mistakes on you but you survived. You are whole you will heal you will be all you ever wanted. you no longer remain the victim of those years. Your body is yours you can fill it with joy your thoughts are in your control you feelings are as free as the sound of chiming bells. you are loved, you are lovable, beautiful child. you always were you are forgiven. While I now don't really agree that the poem should say "you are forgiven" because there is nothing that we need to be forgiven for because we did nothing wrong, when I'm in a dark place I still feel like I need forgiveness and that line helps. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sammie1987 Posted April 28, 2011 Share Posted April 28, 2011 This was a poem I wrote myself, so would like to share with you all... Behind Her Eyes - By Sammie RP A smile can deceive you through night and day, Not everyone is honest when they say there okay. Look into the eyes as they can not lie, Look for the tears she does not cry. A wish would be helpful if it was to come true, But she always knows her life without you. When the nights are dark she's the one alone, Wishing there was someone else to come home. You'll grab her by the heart then crush it in a glance, Attract her with your charm and lie with your dance. She see's not your game but believes all your lie's, But only in her heart will you hear her crie's. She knows nothing better then words un-spoken, With her carrie's a heart that has been left broken. But remember always she'll be perfectly Okay, You can hurt her again on another day. Don't guide her to the path of hurt tomorrow, As she is the only one to feel the sorrow. Give her no pain to feel deep inside, For her there is no where else to hide. This girl has nothing left to which she can lose, Just a Broken heart with a gentle fuse. So send her more pain and tell her more lie's Because she'll never allow you the tears she crie's. She will carry on and pick herself up right, But she will still be alone on a cold dark night. So even when she believe's all of your lie's, Remember there's much more Behind Her Eyes Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sammie1987 Posted April 28, 2011 Share Posted April 28, 2011 This is another poem I wrote based on the abuse I went through as a child, I want to share this with you all as I think you will be able to relate to this... My Scars Tell A Story - By Sammie RP When I look in the mirror I do not see just me, I see a little lost girl the one I use to be. The girl that hid away the pain throughout the years, All the hurt and anger covered up with un-cried tears. The woman who has done that and been there, A little lonely soul searching for someone to care. Through many paths I have crossed and walked a while, All the time I hide the hurt and show the oscar smile. Betrayal became a friend of mine. Loneliness too, All the while I waited for someone like you. Just someone to wipe the tears away when these eyes do cry, Life can be hard at times and people will always lie. I choose the way I wanted to live, the person I wanted to be, See I am no longer a victim anymore I'm simply just me. So yes I have this past of mine which is no happy ending, But I choose not to follow it, this heart of mine is mending. No matter what I do though, these scars I will always wear, They are not something you can erase an wish they was not there. Marked by them always, in my heart they dived, But my scars they tell a story they say that I survived!!! . Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
michaeljoseph Posted June 4, 2012 Share Posted June 4, 2012 Just Imagine Imagine a world where children are free to be who they are. There is no room for harm or danger, and they feel safe and secure. Imagine your life as it is now. You are an adult and you can stay safe. There is no room for more pain and hurt. You need to be safe and secure. Reach out and touch a life to make it better. This is part of my hope for a better world. Together we can make a difference for those Who are still hurting and being hurt. Imagine a boy or a girl today being hurt in ways that you were. Open your arms to all those that are hurting. There is no time like the present to make a difference in someone's life. Imagine a world with only love with no hate. Where people greet each other with kindness, and help each other out without a question. A world full of peace and harmony Imagine something better than where you are. I place to feel safe and secure, so you can be free to find your true self, and share your new freedom with others who feel as you do. Just Imagine and see where it takes you. Michael Joseph Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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