Submissions by saraeaton (WarriorPrincess of Light)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Dear Self
I forgive
You
For all the ways you think you hurt me,
Indifferent to your action’s consequences
While living hot and true;
Your sickness now regret-
But that’s a fiction too.
The only real is what you create
—— NOW——
Live in this moment,
The here and the now.
Hear that I forgive you;
Love covers all mistakes.
Alive in awareness,
Go play!
You
For all the ways you think you hurt me,
Indifferent to your action’s consequences
While living hot and true;
Your sickness now regret-
But that’s a fiction too.
The only real is what you create
—— NOW——
Live in this moment,
The here and the now.
Hear that I forgive you;
Love covers all mistakes.
Alive in awareness,
Go play!
#forgiveness
#redemption
371 reads
4 Comments
Voices
This face of mine,
Pock marked, scarred,
Wrinkled and worn-
So much life.
So much life!
Wrinkled and worn,
Pock marked, scarred-
This face of mine.
Pock marked, scarred,
Wrinkled and worn-
So much life.
So much life!
Wrinkled and worn,
Pock marked, scarred-
This face of mine.
#identity
#SelfReflection
520 reads
3 Comments
She
She pulls away from my vision, rounding the corner of my conscience, allowing me only a glimpse, teasing, taunting, testing me; challenging my very being. You are; you are not; it doesn’t matter, or does it? I want Her, that much I know. Oh, how I want Her, I need Her as I need air. And yet, I breathe. Heavily, desperately, on . . . and on . . . and on I breathe . . . in . . . and out; sauntering along the monotonous treadmill shuffle of even the best of lives. I know this because factually speaking, I have a very fortunate life indeed, filled with love.
Still, She beckons.
Still, She beckons.
#MyInspiration
440 reads
2 Comments
Statistics
Maybe we are molded by society,
Maybe dna?
To accept those most like Ourselves, Whomever we believe Ourselves to be;
Which may or may not reflect reality,
Accurately . . .
Is it a possibility?
Maybe we aren’t an actuality,
Rather an incarnation,
Jumbled biology and philosophy.
Trapped divinity,
Limited by our humanity.
Perhaps He is,
He was,
He evermore shall be.
What then are We?
Why must we define
For something to be?
If it is not named,
Would it really cease to be?
Energy neither created nor...
Maybe dna?
To accept those most like Ourselves, Whomever we believe Ourselves to be;
Which may or may not reflect reality,
Accurately . . .
Is it a possibility?
Maybe we aren’t an actuality,
Rather an incarnation,
Jumbled biology and philosophy.
Trapped divinity,
Limited by our humanity.
Perhaps He is,
He was,
He evermore shall be.
What then are We?
Why must we define
For something to be?
If it is not named,
Would it really cease to be?
Energy neither created nor...
#love
#greed
#culture #choices
#culture #choices
429 reads
1 Comment
Imagination Station
Cernuous shutters, weather beaten, peeling paint,
Marred by existence, no money for upkeep.
Walk on by . . .
Depression ensues
. . . How can this be?
So much care, everything perfectly prepared,
More waste.
Depression perverts.
Irrelevant costume, monotonous routine, trapped in the wrapping of what is,
and what is not.
Shameful game, freedom of my brain, always choosing pain, knowing it is done,
Refusing to give in . . . to let go . . .
Accepting what is has never been for me;
The...
Marred by existence, no money for upkeep.
Walk on by . . .
Depression ensues
. . . How can this be?
So much care, everything perfectly prepared,
More waste.
Depression perverts.
Irrelevant costume, monotonous routine, trapped in the wrapping of what is,
and what is not.
Shameful game, freedom of my brain, always choosing pain, knowing it is done,
Refusing to give in . . . to let go . . .
Accepting what is has never been for me;
The...
#kindness
438 reads
2 Comments
Early Memory 3
It was raining, and dark. But I had an umbrella that I desperately wanted to use. I must have been eight or so. It was pink, my umbrella. It had a little sphere on the tip of it, in the middle of the canopy. The outer part of the canopy was ruffles. It had a curved handle. It was wonderful and it was mine. I danced in my driveway. I sang "Singin' in the Rain" as I twirled about. I gave umbrella rides to the ants that passed my way. They took turns climbing on as I turned my umbrella upside down for them. I gently spun them around and gave them lovely carousel joyrides. I miss my...
632 reads
4 Comments
Early Memory 2
I was lying on my parent's bedroom floor. The carpet was gold. Light was shining through the window; the sunbeam revealing so many particles of dust. Is there always this much dust? Is our house extra dirty? I didn't mind either way because I liked those dust particles. I liked how they were hidden in the air until a sunbeam exposed them, freeing them. I thought maybe those little specks held all the answbers to questions I knew were there, questions that danced in the parts of my mind that I couldn't access, but I knew they were there just the same.
651 reads
0 Comments
Early Memory 1
I was in my crib. I held a stuffed dog. It was Snoopy from The Peanuts cartoon. He had a heart shaped button sewn onto his chest. I liked his button heart. It was nice and red. I liked red. The button's hole was behind the heart and made it stick out from his chest. It would have been better if it were flush against his chest and didn't wiggle about. It was alright, though. I liked that stuffed Snoopy dog with his red heart. I couldn't have been older than three; I was in a crib. I remember wondering about what was beyond what we know. I am not smart; not above any averages...
584 reads
1 Comment
Keeping Both Hands Out
I cut my hair to turn the rest away, maybe.
I let him fill me with his sperm to make another baby.
So I can be distracted with a purpose and forget
The other life that tempts when my time's not utilized
For greater good than filling up my ego and someone else's bed.
He's the one I love; why must I scar myself to stay?
Will contentment leave me when my self-inflicted markings are no more?
I know what's most important, will my ego taunt me still?
Accepting wisdom I am given is challenge to receive.
My hands are out and I am willing, maybe.
I let him fill me with his sperm to make another baby.
So I can be distracted with a purpose and forget
The other life that tempts when my time's not utilized
For greater good than filling up my ego and someone else's bed.
He's the one I love; why must I scar myself to stay?
Will contentment leave me when my self-inflicted markings are no more?
I know what's most important, will my ego taunt me still?
Accepting wisdom I am given is challenge to receive.
My hands are out and I am willing, maybe.
661 reads
1 Comment
Moving On
Perhaps you were my poetry;
I said "goodbye" to you; therefore,
You had to say "goodbye" to me.
I said "goodbye" to you; therefore,
You had to say "goodbye" to me.
718 reads
3 Comments
HIS Golden Thrown
I'm waiting for my golden chair,
I voted him in for all will share
The wealth he bleeds must fill our veins;
Transfuse our country,
Make our blood green!
I'm hemorrhaging from all my debt;
He'll come in and heal my pain,
For making money is what he does.
What I don't understand yet:
Regardless what I want to believe,
He will create more golden chairs;
But he will never share.
They'll be pulled from beneath middle class,
Moved to his penthouse and plated gold.
The rich will enjoy more...
I voted him in for all will share
The wealth he bleeds must fill our veins;
Transfuse our country,
Make our blood green!
I'm hemorrhaging from all my debt;
He'll come in and heal my pain,
For making money is what he does.
What I don't understand yet:
Regardless what I want to believe,
He will create more golden chairs;
But he will never share.
They'll be pulled from beneath middle class,
Moved to his penthouse and plated gold.
The rich will enjoy more...
679 reads
2 Comments
Love Addict
Seems that I always must have a lover on the side,
Something or someone to keep passion alive.
Perhaps it is best if my lover remains
Creativity in all of its ways...
I've tired of breaking my family's heart
All for a short lived oxytocin high.
It seems so clear now
How addicted I am
To feeling endorphins kick into high drive.
An addict to love, that's what I am
Stabbing commitments and slaying them dead.
Could there be another way?
My beast is me and so must stay,
Can I train her to obey?
Letting her play with poetry,
Writing and...
Something or someone to keep passion alive.
Perhaps it is best if my lover remains
Creativity in all of its ways...
I've tired of breaking my family's heart
All for a short lived oxytocin high.
It seems so clear now
How addicted I am
To feeling endorphins kick into high drive.
An addict to love, that's what I am
Stabbing commitments and slaying them dead.
Could there be another way?
My beast is me and so must stay,
Can I train her to obey?
Letting her play with poetry,
Writing and...
693 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by saraeaton (WarriorPrincess of Light)