I don’t know how many of you know about Wattpad. Basically it’s a website or app where you can publish your writing. There are lots of users and lots of good stories.
One of the nice things about Wattpad is that you can publish stories and / or books in chapters instead of all at once.I am currently working on a story and a book of poetry.
Here is the link to my profile. Please take a look and share. If you are a Wattpad user please vote and also let me know bout your works so I can check them out . Thanks.
Like a lot of writers I keep notebooks (yes more than one ) that I write random things in. Thoughts, scraps of stories, quotes that like, and other things. Sometimes I like to see how many words I can rhyme.
My point (there is one) is that I keep notebooks that are filled with the beginnings of the creative process. This poem came from one of those scraps.
After I read the four little lines thatI had written months ago, I rewrote it and expanded on it . And then I did it again. Eventually what came out was this poem.
A CAGED BIRD
A caged bird only knows
The limits that are imposed.
It knows nothing of the limitless outside.
To everyone outside,
It seems safe and secure.
But the bird knows there’s more.
Pushing it’s beak against the iron bars,
Trying to break through.
Waiting to unleash it’s potential.
The bird waits and waits
With patience that can only come from nature.
Patience, faith, and trust.
It knows in it’s heart that one day it will be free
And then it will spread it’s wings.
So it prepares for that day.
Always prepared, always hoping.
Prepared for today.
Prepared for every moment.
For that is the only moment we all have.
This is a poem I wrote for an online class I am taking. I have learned a lot from the class and I feel like this poem shows how I am growing as a poet. Please take a moment to read and comment.
A baseball and shards of glass lay on the just installed carpet.
Becky stands over them like a queen inspecting her guard.
Was this deliberate, she wonders.
She has seen the neighbors huddled together, talking and pointing to their house.
Their house ; the two words stopped her thoughts as if they had brakes on them.
Mine and hers; Hers and mine.
Two women married to each other
Still caused people to whisper behind their hands.
Becky was used to that, used to people talking over their coffee about her.
She had come to expect it , maybe even depend on it.
And, like a poison, it infects and hurts the young quickly.
Negativity sticks with you when you’re young.
Sticks with you enough to throw a ball through a window.
A few months ago a friend sent me a poem. It was something that I needed at that moment. A push to get me out of the state of mind that I was in at the time. She ended up putting it on her blog and you can read it here.
The poem was written by Charlie Chaplin on his 70th birthday and it talks about different things. But the part that is most important to me is the part about self love. I have a hard time loving myself sometimes. Most of the time actually. But I can feel a shift in my attitudes about myself and I can say that I have days that I can honestly say I love myself.
Anyway, the Chaplin poem inspired me to write the following poem. It’s about a few realizations I’ve had over the last few months and how I’m starting to feel about myself.
Self Love Is …
Self love is paying attention to yourself when you need it.
Self love is standing in your authentic truth.
Self love is total acceptance of you.
Self love is not wishing you were something or someone else.
Self love is putting that second candy bar down.
Self love is getting up everyday with a grateful heart.
Self love is not letting other people tell you what is right for you.
Self love is not giving away your own power.
Self love is sometimes telling the world to fuck off.
Self love is full of forgiveness for everyone and especially yourself.
Self love is hard.
Self love is from the heart not the head.
Self love is compassion. a poem
This is an old poem that I found stuck in between pages of an uncompleted story. I’m not even sure how old it is. A couple of years at least.
It’s amazing how we can write something, tuck it away somewhere, and find it later on like a piece of buried treasure. Then when we read it, it feels like something that came from a totally different person. That’s how I feel about this poem.
I definitely remember feeling this way. I’ve felt like that for most of my life. But my perspective on things are different now and reading this I feel tremendous sympathy for the person I was. Not only for the things other people put me through but for what I put myself through.
So much anger.
No one knows
How it fills me up
And never lets go.
I can’t deflect it away.
I can’t shield it.
It encompasses all of me.
Engulfs all of me
In bitterness and cold.
They are anger’s friends;
Never far from anger’s side.
Never far from my heart.
Just a quick little poem to end the night with. Pretty short for me. I feel like when I started it , I had every intention of making it a significant poem and then somewhere it said to me, this is enough. This small little bit is enough.
So it’s now just a few little lines that started with a whole lot of potential and ended up just being. There is probably something pretty profound in that but I am getting tired and my mind doesn’t really want to think about it right now. So here it is , Potential Inside.
People hurting other people,
This is how it all starts.
People not realizing they are special.
That’s what hurts the most –
Not realizing the potential inside;
Not heeding your calling.
That’s why you feel empty
Because you’re not doing what you love.
You’re not being true to yourself;
Not being true to your soul
Which is crying out to you.
Telling you to let go of your pretensions .
Let go and be what you can b
So this is my newest poem. It’s very me in the sense that I think a lot and worry a lot. Sometimes I am great at giving advice but horrible at taking my own advice. And then there are times I have to remind myself to stop ,breathe, relax, and let the Universe provide.
I have to remind myself that I am human and humans have feelings. And that’s okay . It’s okay to have worries but it’s not okay to let them take over your mind.
Anyway, that’s a little bit of background about where this poem from and about the part of me that ,hopefully, shines through in it.
Continue reading The Heart Knows