Popular Self Poems
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Personal poetry about the way you feel about yourself
Popular poems, listed in order of their popularity this month.
I'll dedicate it to you...
I'm cumming on a piece of paper
With a blue-eyed bouquet of words
I'm cumming! And in this orgasm...
I break off my shackles
For all those who didn't get it
Who didn't dare to perceive themselves
I not once, but twice, and...
To boldly give myself
I just want this continuous orgasm
Exhausted, wet, sticky
And all smeared with ecstasy
Poured out on the sheet
And I can't restrain myself
Nymphomaniac craving for poetry
Grabbing the ink from the shelf again,
I... I'll dedicate it to you!
With a blue-eyed bouquet of words
I'm cumming! And in this orgasm...
I break off my shackles
For all those who didn't get it
Who didn't dare to perceive themselves
I not once, but twice, and...
To boldly give myself
I just want this continuous orgasm
Exhausted, wet, sticky
And all smeared with ecstasy
Poured out on the sheet
And I can't restrain myself
Nymphomaniac craving for poetry
Grabbing the ink from the shelf again,
I... I'll dedicate it to you!
#WritingPoetry
#orgasm
177 reads
55 Comments
A deal with nothing less
These are the days, love—
the blissful, beating days
slashing through the house
shattering the barren stairs
up to husbands, brothers
children, filling the hollows
in rooms, in hearts
oh, those sleeping Gods
in heavy beds, how they pray
into the corners of a silent hearth.
These are the days love—
the crashing, hurricane days
ravishing me at the root
ripping cobwebs from a chest
that dance way down
in the Marie Celeste
crushing rubble
into an open...
the blissful, beating days
slashing through the house
shattering the barren stairs
up to husbands, brothers
children, filling the hollows
in rooms, in hearts
oh, those sleeping Gods
in heavy beds, how they pray
into the corners of a silent hearth.
These are the days love—
the crashing, hurricane days
ravishing me at the root
ripping cobwebs from a chest
that dance way down
in the Marie Celeste
crushing rubble
into an open...
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry
169 reads
27 Comments
Yeah, I Could but I’m Not
My sister lives in Cali
Constantly trying to keep up
By all appearances
She has the perfect face and body
Sends me selfies all the time
Questioning if she looks sexy
Be yourself
I swear, if I say it one more time
I'm going to have to make it a trademark
Her response is always the same
I can't, I live in LA
I cannot
For the life of me
Understand why anyone
Would live their life
Under such immense pressure
I could get...
Constantly trying to keep up
By all appearances
She has the perfect face and body
Sends me selfies all the time
Questioning if she looks sexy
Be yourself
I swear, if I say it one more time
I'm going to have to make it a trademark
Her response is always the same
I can't, I live in LA
I cannot
For the life of me
Understand why anyone
Would live their life
Under such immense pressure
I could get...
#happiness
#SelfWorth
124 reads
26 Comments
Poetry Mojo
it's been over 5 years
that poetry left me
my muse died
i tried to write
closed my eyes
let words pass by
silence inside
no assonance
consonance
or alliteration
zero inspiration
so frustrating
on my laptop
lots of pieces
different topics
all over the place
shattered words
segmented verses
shadows of what was
where is my poetry mojo?
that poetry left me
my muse died
i tried to write
closed my eyes
let words pass by
silence inside
no assonance
consonance
or alliteration
zero inspiration
so frustrating
on my laptop
lots of pieces
different topics
all over the place
shattered words
segmented verses
shadows of what was
where is my poetry mojo?
#WritersBlock
118 reads
20 Comments
Wealthy in the Ways that Matter
Yeah, so…
By everyone else’s standards
I’m pretty much broke
I haven’t held a job since 1996
Health problems qualified me
To live off the government
I worked from the moment I could
Until the moment I couldn’t
I was twenty-eight years old
When I stopped being a workaholic
And began adjusting to life with less
It took quite a while
It wasn’t pretty
I don’t own a car
I rarely travel
I live in a rent controlled apartment
Budgeting is more than a necessity
I’ve learned to be comfortable ...
By everyone else’s standards
I’m pretty much broke
I haven’t held a job since 1996
Health problems qualified me
To live off the government
I worked from the moment I could
Until the moment I couldn’t
I was twenty-eight years old
When I stopped being a workaholic
And began adjusting to life with less
It took quite a while
It wasn’t pretty
I don’t own a car
I rarely travel
I live in a rent controlled apartment
Budgeting is more than a necessity
I’ve learned to be comfortable ...
#happiness
#money
#SelfWorth
109 reads
24 Comments
Click
Show me where
in this world
a billionaire
is without the blood
of someone on his hands
Show me case history
where there are no ghosts
shadowing his money trail
Or maybe the man
who built the machine
isn’t all bad
Maybe he works late
from a 58th floor
on Wall Street
counting the dead
on an abacus
How simple
ancient
innocent
Maybe the sound
of those clicking beads
is all he needs
to make him happy
After all,...
in this world
a billionaire
is without the blood
of someone on his hands
Show me case history
where there are no ghosts
shadowing his money trail
Or maybe the man
who built the machine
isn’t all bad
Maybe he works late
from a 58th floor
on Wall Street
counting the dead
on an abacus
How simple
ancient
innocent
Maybe the sound
of those clicking beads
is all he needs
to make him happy
After all,...
#corruption
191 reads
20 Comments
On watching animated films on a strange and silent afternoon
I am looking at Pinocchio fold
into piles of pine. Watching
the joints slide backwards
until the lie takes over
and gravity becomes a cold bed
in which to lay the bones down.
I think of my own body
splintering in what can’t be seen.
How this day comes and there
is nothing, but a dark whale
and the tenacity to escape.
Did anybody tell him
years later, in his trauma,
that it is better to be made of wood
than to eternally be made of stone.
I am looking at Pinocchio...
into piles of pine. Watching
the joints slide backwards
until the lie takes over
and gravity becomes a cold bed
in which to lay the bones down.
I think of my own body
splintering in what can’t be seen.
How this day comes and there
is nothing, but a dark whale
and the tenacity to escape.
Did anybody tell him
years later, in his trauma,
that it is better to be made of wood
than to eternally be made of stone.
I am looking at Pinocchio...
#women
#MovingOn
#acceptance #DomesticViolence
#acceptance #DomesticViolence
113 reads
9 Comments
Tell It To The Bees
When I was eight, a bee stung my face.
Tangled itself in my hair
saw me as an enemy
and shot hot venom into my skin.
My Mother ran to her screaming kid
as a moment of pure panic erupted
on Sunday’s lawn,
but the damage was done
my head throbbing, numb
where a bruise turned a vivid shade
of violet, as bold as my new fear
of small latching insects.
Fast forward thirty years
and I...
Tangled itself in my hair
saw me as an enemy
and shot hot venom into my skin.
My Mother ran to her screaming kid
as a moment of pure panic erupted
on Sunday’s lawn,
but the damage was done
my head throbbing, numb
where a bruise turned a vivid shade
of violet, as bold as my new fear
of small latching insects.
Fast forward thirty years
and I...
#illness
#bees
#disability
#StreamOfConsciousness
#fear
143 reads
17 Comments
I Made a Promise
On that forgotten yesterday
When the world
Fell apart
That I wouldn’t
When the world
Fell apart
That I wouldn’t
#SelfWorth
128 reads
19 Comments
It’s Raining Today
It’s raining today and I’m hurting.
Old wounds and new hold
conversations across my body,
as if each scar is vying for attention.
It’s a harsh rest in the concrete hustle.
Sometimes it feels as though I’m going
to collapse faster than inner city
communication.
Still I trudge on.
Moving through the asphalt veins
in search of a shade tree surprise.
Some respite for the pain inside.
It doesn’t really amount to anything.
Maybe I’ll get drunk as a bicycle
and ride off into the sunset.
I’m tired all the...
Old wounds and new hold
conversations across my body,
as if each scar is vying for attention.
It’s a harsh rest in the concrete hustle.
Sometimes it feels as though I’m going
to collapse faster than inner city
communication.
Still I trudge on.
Moving through the asphalt veins
in search of a shade tree surprise.
Some respite for the pain inside.
It doesn’t really amount to anything.
Maybe I’ll get drunk as a bicycle
and ride off into the sunset.
I’m tired all the...
#rain
#hurt
87 reads
14 Comments
Three & Nine
In a box on a book shelf
there’s a picture of me
on my eighteenth birthday,
a champagne bottle pressed
against my lips like a gun
an arm full of bracelets
which looked pretty,
but I knew what they hid
just in the same way
I noted my eyes
as glassed as that weapon
in desperate hands.
I’d like to pretend
I gave a fuck about today
as my calendar celebrated
another safe trip around the sun,
but I didn’t. Not especially so.
I just laughed at the fruit smoothie
I made with...
there’s a picture of me
on my eighteenth birthday,
a champagne bottle pressed
against my lips like a gun
an arm full of bracelets
which looked pretty,
but I knew what they hid
just in the same way
I noted my eyes
as glassed as that weapon
in desperate hands.
I’d like to pretend
I gave a fuck about today
as my calendar celebrated
another safe trip around the sun,
but I didn’t. Not especially so.
I just laughed at the fruit smoothie
I made with...
#birthday
#SelfReflection
134 reads
14 Comments
Unparalleled
I’ve done things
I’m not proud of
In the past
My impulsivity
Has caused
Damage
Quite often
I was left
Picking up the
Aftermath
Of misplaced
Words
And actions
Life has always
Been about
Lessons
Some took
Longer
To learn
I’ll never cease
Attempting to
Improve
My life
But let’s be realistic
I’ll never
Be perfect
I don’t ever
Want to be
Perfect
Is boring
Raw
Uncut
Intricate ...
I’m not proud of
In the past
My impulsivity
Has caused
Damage
Quite often
I was left
Picking up the
Aftermath
Of misplaced
Words
And actions
Life has always
Been about
Lessons
Some took
Longer
To learn
I’ll never cease
Attempting to
Improve
My life
But let’s be realistic
I’ll never
Be perfect
I don’t ever
Want to be
Perfect
Is boring
Raw
Uncut
Intricate ...
#myself
#PersonalGrowth
123 reads
19 Comments
DU Poetry : Popular Personal Poems. Poetry about Self Reflection and Self Awareness.