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.
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
The last couple of weeks have not been very good for me. I don’t really go into it much on social media but , the fact of the matter is I have a lot of emotional problems that have plagued me since I was young. Part of those problems is a feeling I have that everyone is going to leave me. That I am not worth anyone’s time and why should anyone want to hang around with me. In short, serious abandonment issues
Because of that, I unintentionally pushed someone away from me that I never wanted to . Someone who meant a lot to me . Anyway this is the poem that emerged from my last two weeks of putting myself through hell.
I don’t understand
But, it’s God’s plan.
I have to trust
That my pain will go away
And make sense someday.
Then I won’t remember what I was upset about.
It will be a dream from a long time ago
And all this will not mean a thing,
I trust you Lord
And I know this will pass.
With your help,
I always get back up after I’ve been knocked down.
To the world and the haters in it,
You can try to kill me, but i will always rise.
This is an original poem of mine. The first line came to me one day while at work and the rest followed right after.
I write because there are blank pages to be filled.
I write because there are places in my heart that are bursting with creativity.
Words, ink on a page, soak in my pain, pull it away.
Fully engrossed in my words, I am in a prayer trance, a meditation honoring the universe.
Through meditation, I search.
Seeking my private star, the spark the universe entrusted to me.
It is there, for I have felt it.
Just beneath the skin but not in the hardness of bone.
I have felt it in that vivid space that’s not quite dream yet not fully awake.
It is peace, it is my essence, it is my connection to the universe