Poetry

Love Yourself First

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I know its hard and tiring to wake up alone with your text is on read. I know how frustrating it is to expect something but receive nothing in return. You’ve been in relationship after relationship, went on date after date, and hoped for a spark to return in your dull eyes. Of course, maybe its just the hurt you’ve experienced before in the past by someone who didn’t treat you right. You don’t know how to be alone so you settle with anything that catches your eye. A smile, laugh, and maybe something as petty as an emoji in a text message. You’re human after all. But you’re looking for a missing link that you can only find within yourself first. Love comes when you love yourself enough to accept the person that you are.

No, this doesn’t give you the green light to turn into a narcissist. Still, you have to take some consideration for your own well-being and strength. You have to learn that letting go is healthy and change is unavoidable. People come and go like the wind. You can’t waste time blowing dandelion seeds, wishing for things to stay the same because you can’t live in the past.

I’m here telling you to LOVE yourself first. Don’t love the guy who never texts back, don’t love that ex who didn’t treat you right, and don’t try to please other people to gain affection. You’re worth more that. You’re worth so much more than what these people are offering for love. That isn’t love or “interest.” That’s just downright cruel.

It’s cruel because you’re wasting energy on people who don’t matter to you. You’re putting effort for a love that means nothing and leaves you empty. That isn’t love or what dating relationships should be like. But that’s all you right? That one bad relationship or person haunts you in your dating life like a phantom. Always looming over what you should be and how you can change to fit their persona. Stop it, right now!

Love yourself enough to leave those people. Cut them out of your life and pray you never cross paths with them again. Delete everything and forget the hurt they inflicted on you as a child because it’s time to grow up. Time to wipe off your tears and self-loathing. It’s time to see what everyone else sees. It’s time to love the quirky person that you are. Enough of excuses and heartbreak. YOU are the only one allowing your heart to break by returning to people and situations that DON’T MATTER.

LEAVE RIGHT NOW. LEAVE before you forget your self-worth because you’re worth a hell of a lot more than what these people are giving back.

 

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Her Pearl (A Poem for Grandma)

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She smiles with
pearl-white teeth
and an oyster of
secrets beneath
her heated breath
exhaling from her
lungs and swallowing
salt water with
each dive into
night tide sea.

She harbors
her shell from
the crashing waves
above her auburn hair
and sea-green eyes
wandering through
black and white photographs
and expecting affection
in between her youth
and a pile of
yellow-crinkled letters
from sixty years ago.

She was young
with pearl-white
skin and curly
brown waves of hair
dangling from her
shoulders to
her mid-waist.
She was perfection
in black and white
vintage dresses
and roller skates
but she was only
a photograph
of youth.

She became a pearl
underneath the shell
of her memories
hidden in old photographs
and her children.
Precious to
sea-green eyes
wandering in
past and
reaching for
the future
with an open
oyster.

Heavenly (written 5 years ago)

heavenly_visionAngel, Angel, Angel, can you hear my faint whisper?
My worldly words never seem to reach you beyond the heavens.
I can still feel your lingering kiss upon my lips…
And the careful caresses of your holy hands…
There is truthfully emptiness without your perfect presence…
I need you here to ease my sorrowful soul!
So return to me my most angelic angel…
The time spent with you is just so heavenly!
It leaves me eager to further empress;
In this eccentric era that refuses to confess
That this love is losing faith…
But inside my delicate heart, I know there is no regarding regret…
I still believe even through this forgotten fallacy…
That you will one day come back to me!
As I try to live on this eerie earth from the moment you left…
Angel, I feel but I cannot see…
Your lingering kiss upon my lips…
And the careful caresses of your holy hands…
Despite my blindness, I am aware of your perfect presence
That is eternally, heavenly.

~Britany Elayne

Story:

Crazy to think that I wrote this almost five years ago for my first boyfriend in high school. It was supposed to be one of those sappy love poems that one would write as a teenager with no realistic expectations or responsibilities. Something I came up with for a first anniversary gift but it was one of the poems that helped to get started in writing. Of course, my boyfriend at the time loved it. He used to write me poems, too. We just used to be one of those sappy couples who wrote poetry in their first year of dating. It was a good first relationship to start off with and I’m grateful for the opportunity to dabble in writing because of him. Although this is a teenager poem, it’s still one of the poems I’m most proud of. My friends loved this poem and even made me autograph a copy in hopes that it might make some money one day when I become an author. (We’ll see, haha) In all seriousness, I really do love this poem as well. It came from a place of innocence and faith. Innocence in the sense that I had no idea what love was and faith in hoping that the receiver was the one for me. Even though we didn’t work out, it reminds me of the good times I had with that person. He inspired me to write sappy poetry to the point where I was able to venture to different avenues of writing. I posted this because it’s takes me back to when I was first starting off as a poet. I would write for my school newspaper and publish my poetry in hopes that I could build an audience. Not sure if anyone really took the time to read it or just turned every newspaper issue into a paper airplane! Whatever, high schoolers are immature anyway, haha! I hope whoever is reading this, enjoys it. It means a lot more when your work becomes sentimental for someone else and I hope all of you can experience that kind of love in real life, too. Not sure if I ever will but I’m pretty content with my pet rabbit. Boys come and go but rabbits are there for life. Actually, that’s a great idea! So, yeah this is dedicated to my rabbit yawl!

Reaping the Harvest

harvest

Imagine being a farmer and sowing your fields in attempt to reach a harvest. Oh, but watch out! There can be a storm or a pack of wild rabbits ready to devour your crops before they even grow to their full potential. Does it seem fair for circumstances to reap the fruits of your labor? If so, what’s the point in even trying to plant anything productive? Might as well bury your dreams in a grave yard and walk away.

It’s easy to toss the shovel aside and hope for the ground to weather its own harvest. Actually, its sometimes necessary to stop plowing the fields and to let nature take its course. However, there’s always a limitation to the amount of resting in life you can take before your fields becomes an empty wasteland.

We have responsibilities to fulfill as farmers. We have the responsibility in planting our seeds and growing our lives within each season. Every season will come with storms, a pack of wild rabbits, and a disappointment of failed production. The only solution we do have is to believe that our good works will reap a good harvest.

We have to trust in God when life seems to only wield empty promises. We have to trust in the fact that some blessings come in disguise and others were just not meant to happen in its due season. Of course, there will always be something to reap from the good you sow in your life. The amount of work you put in will probably earn you that college degree, dream job, or even a life partner. Just be prepared that nothing is guaranteed!

The only guarantee you have is the relationship you create with God. He is the sun that enables your crops to grow and prosper into adulthood. He gives the water that rains down from the sky to quench the thirst of the land. He is the ultimate provider but He isn’t the sole laborer. We have to labor our own lands and have enough faith in Him to provide the rest we need.

It’s all about having faith. Faith for the things we don’t understand and faith for the things we cannot change on our own. So, keep doing good even if all you get are dead crops and a pile of dust. Plant on, Farmers!

 

 

Giving Grace

grace-wins-1140x641Sin creates a strong stigma of doubt in our minds when we reflect on our past mistakes. Most times it comes like a tidal wave ready to consume every aspect of our lives. It creates not only a division within ourselves but with the people around us. We grow accustomed to allowing sin dictate what we say and do. We let it seep in without realizing the prolonged affect it has on our minds and bodies.

Whenever I think of sin, I think of it as a tidal wave. It’s tempting, forceful, and powerful enough to drown you in an ocean of fears. You try to swim through the hurdles of waves, but sometimes you get swept over and drown in the danger zone. People try to remind you of your sins and keep you drowning without any sort of redemption. They expect you to suffocate under the weight of your shortcomings because you’re not human after all.  In the eyes of man, we are stagnate creatures unable to change and progress into  better versions of ourselves.

In the case of Christianity, sin becomes an essential component in our separation from God. We need Jesus to save us from ourselves. I wholeheartedly  believe in Jesus Christ and that He came down to save us from our sins. However, that doesn’t make me righteous. I can be righteous in my good works but that doesn’t save me from my own sins. My sins are still there hidden underneath my so called “righteous” persona.

I know that everyone is a sinner. We are all accustomed to sinning and making mistakes in life. We are also downright hypocrites when it comes to being “righteous”.  Christians are not entitled to being “righteous” or believe they are better because they have more “grace” than nonbelievers. Christians should be choosey in how they label themselves or they might be labeled under the  Pharisee category.  We are given grace because we accepted Jesus as our savior. Jesus is our gateway to redemption and forgiveness but he isn’t the reason that we should label ourselves as righteous. We may be “righteous” in God’s love, but we’re not righteous in any other way.

Remember that even Christians are sinners behind their bibles and cross necklaces. We all have sinned and are still sinning each day. There will always be another sin to repent and be redeemed from. There’s just no straight antidote to cure us from our sin forever. The only one that can offer us some hope is Jesus Christ but He is not to be used as an excuse for an ego-booster. Why do you think Jesus always criticized the Pharisees for their inaction in receiving grace or giving grace to those who need it?

As Christians, we have a heavier weight to carry when it comes to giving grace. We have a responsibility to give grace to those who don’t deserve it. We have to turn the other cheek and move on. It doesn’t mean we have to be defenseless, but it does mean we have to keep our hearts open to forgiveness. We got to shut our sinful mouths and leave the situation.

Yes, grace always wins but it always comes with a price. It cost Jesus his life and God’s love to send his Son down to save us. So be humble and wise in how you approach “righteous” works because works shouldn’t be used to escalate in status or to condemn someone else.

Cherry Blossom (Dedicated to V.)

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Fall into
pink petals
blooming
red-ripe cherries
bursting scarlet
juice from
the Japanese Garden.

Paper stars line
a pathway to
cherry blossom
trees and a friend
with blushed cheeks
picking cherries
from the branches
of dangling hopes
tied in a knot
of pink petals
falling in mid-air
and dropping
like paper stars
shooting across
the night
and crashing
on paper soil.

Quails flock
into the garden
shedding feathers
and flying into paper
sky blotting
black and blue ink
to form night
and drawing day
out in cherry juice
dripping in heat
and evaporation
from thirst.

Paper-thin stars
leave half-wishes
but a trail of
cherries leave
friends blushed
in quail feathers
shedding new-found
strength in the fall
of pink petals
underneath
trees blossoming
friendship like
a cherry blossom.

Dandelion

Sun-stroked petals
surround her mane
of seeds embedded
underneath yellow
tips of her flowing
hair against wind
traveling east
to grow dandelions
in her weed infested
garden.

A garden filled
with the roar
of wild lilies
and white puffs
of wishes hidden
in her yellow hair
like dandruff flakes
peeling dead skin
and reaping only
pocket-sized seeds
to grow through
soil covered rock
and fallen orange leaves.

The sun soaks
her rooted hair
strands dying
golden highlights
and beaming
rays of heat
melting
her sun-kissed skin
with infused
red-hot burns
on her cheeks.

Blush comes through
with the rise of sun
bleeding the sky
orange and a burst
of blue eyes
closing as she
takes out a breath
of white dandelion
in summer air.

She is the dandelion
free as a weed.

Lone Wolf

New waters quench
his parched throat
filling inflated lungs
like an air balloon
floating through
blue bubbles of
oxygen and exhaling
spit and an exchange
of naïve tongues.

He pushes his tongue
down her throat
with a whip of
backlash and the stain
of a new lip stain
from another woman
and she stays silent
under the weight of his
chest moving back and forth
against salt and fresh water.

Salt is her lips
bitter with an aftertaste
of naïve tongue
chocking her esophagus
and blocking her screams
underneath murmured
hums and a distant memory
of him pecking her lips
gently with the song
of wolves howling
in the half-lit night.

Fresh is the new
pair of lips
he tastes to compare
from his former lover
with a mature tongue
to direct his greedy
motives intermixed
with call of
both women on dial.

New waters quench
this parched throat
but he dismisses
the gulp of saliva
with each intake of
fresh and salt.
He spits out words
with a distant howl
at the crescent moon.
No, let him be a lone wolf.

Rainbow Dance

Streams of rainbow colors
fall from the rain
descending from
pearl clouds of smoke
moving through
atmosphere
and covering planets
stuck in orbit.

The colors dance
against the lightening
flashing its light
with the strike of
former lovers
stumbling on
blue and black
blots of ink.

Thunder roars
with a laugh
echoing from
the pen leaking
out in words
muttered underneath
the rhythm of familiarity
and raw emotions
of red anger
blue depression
and green jealousy.

The woman carries on
in the rainbow dance
with her dream catcher
and colors streaming
in her auburn eyes
seeking her former lover
in the storm raging
beneath her legs
and a past memory
of a man with blue-cold eyes
staring into atmosphere
and covering planets
in their orbit
from the setting sun.

Stars dangle from her hips
music escapes her lips
and the rainbow dance
fades into the atmosphere
with red anger
blue depression
and green jealousy
polluting her air
and swallowing her words
before her lover leaves
to find another woman.

Through the Looking Glass

lFog rolls on pouts

of smoke from

the pipe of Hookah

she puffed in

autumn air.

 

She inhales

poetic scents

of  Middle-Eastern spices

and perfume

linking her

to the pipe

and a circle

of  plastic smiles

and Arabic lullabies.

 

There is a glass,

a looking glass,

she stares in

opposite directions

of the mirrored walls

shadowing a woman

with scarlet lips

and auburn-colored streaks

of frizzy hair.

 

Circular faces

surround her

body and all

exchange a puff

of  fragrance

and discolored scents

seeping from

their purple-blue lips.

 

Oxygen deprives

their fog of smoke

like a chill of autumn breeze

and leaves falling from trees

above the Hookah bar.

Carbon Dioxide bubbles

the glass as the woman

stares through the looking glass,

a strange reflection

of flavored scents

and hand prints.

 

Her lungs expand

and deflate with

the force of gravity

pulling Carbon Dioxide

from her chest

as she takes in her last breath

of Oxygen air.

 

She lets the looking glass

fog her reflection

in a heat of spicy-flavored smoke

and traces her hands

against the palm prints

of a woman

who chose to

suffocate with a circle

of plastic smiles

and Arabic lullabies.

 

She smiles through

the looking glass.

All she needs

is another puff

to fog her reflection

of  Marylyn-Monroe

and Virgin Mary

staring at her

with a polka-dot dress

and a rosary

reaping prayer

and sin.

 

Never will she

look through the

looking glass again.