PC: Christine Wu
It’s amazing how we are quick to judge
And seldom slow to anger
How we make assumptions and then believe them to be true
How we make our opinions our God
And worship them, blindly, in the temple of our own minds
How we give ourselves more importance than we deserve
How we do NOT give people the respect they deserve
How we think we know best
When really we know nothing at all.
Our mirrors are dusty, just like our minds,
We don’t let the new wash over us
And we let cobwebs of preconceived notions ruin that which can be beautiful
Understanding can be beautiful
Being respectful of other peoples’ beliefs can be beautiful
Imperfections can be beautiful
Ugliness can be beautiful
When will we stop judging and start embracing?
PC – Anastasia Smurova.
Sometimes we love people too much,
Love is responsibility.
Love is ache waiting to be felt.
Love is a tragedy in the making.
Love is beautiful.
Love makes you do all the things you yourself wouldn’t approve of.
Love pushes you to the point that you do not recognize yourself.
And if that love is poison to someone.
It’s best to let it go.
Sometimes we love people too much to keep them in our lives.
Six. Love is knowing he cares even though sometimes he fails to tell or show.
Five. Love is knowing his embrace holds the power to heal every wound this world can cause.
Four. Love is knowing he will strive to make me smile. No. Matter. What.
Three. Love is looking into his eyes and seeing the compassion, the tenderness and the yearning.
Two. Love is being able to be me, unapologetically and still knowing he wouldn’t judge, or call out names. He will try to make me the best that I can be.
And one. Love is knowing the good and the bad within me and yet sticking around for 6 years.
PS: You never visit my blog or read my poems, so here’s me getting you to do both. Happy 6 Ady, and thanks for all the joys, sadness, craziness, laughter all these years.
She didn’t mourn during the last rites. Numb with bereavement, she stood motionless.
They lowered his body into the earth and therewith buried her spirit.
She had not wept at all in days. They shook her, wailed, brought forth memories of him, but to no avail.
She had lost the will to feel…
Read and please vote for the full piece here:
“A woman knows very well that, though a wit sends her his poems, praises her judgement solicits her criticism, and drinks her tea, this by no means signifies that he respects her opinions, admires her understanding, or will refuse, though the rapier is denied him, to run through the body with his pen.”
~ Virginia Woolf, Orlando
Do you not understand?
The poems are love, no doubt, but not selfless.
It’s OK to cry.
It’s OK to smile amidst tears too.
Someday it will all be over and they’ll miss you.
Wake up from your slumber you call life.
Look at the bright side,
Quit climbing the uphill journey of expectations.
You aren’t worth the disappointment.
You deserve better.
Sometimes you won’t be treated right.
Believe that you should be.
Walk away even if it hurts.
Don’t be swept away by pretty lies.
Don’t believe everything they say.
Sometimes beautiful words are daggers.
It’s OK to look at the reflection and feel ugly.
It’s OK to feel small.
But don’t forget to get up.
And walk again with your head held high.
But love yourself first.
You’re stronger than this.
You’re everything they wish to be.
You’re a woman.
So smile, darling.
What’s love without the face of conscious effort?
What’s love without decency for courtesy?
What’s love without respect?
I don’t need to be told I can have the stars.
Nor do I want to be kissed under the sparkle.
I want to be looked upon as one of your own.
I want to be treated right.
I want to never have to say it again.
Love is Nothing without Respect.