Poetrycommunity Stories

Alone but powerful, the poet's mind is replete with verses colourful. With sass they sashay, unbidden into the worlds they portray. Inked with finesse, they are a treasure to possess. Cover designed by the immensely talented @thatwomanlywoman321 :)

These are the letters, I wrote beneath the moonlight, the words I never dared to send, to the one who will never read them. But still, I write. I bleed. I remember.

Petals encompasses identity. How it isn't bound by labels but a collection of them. There are facets of ourselves people may never see. We reserve these layers for multitudes of reasons. We exist because we are. Take time to learn about yourself, turn every rock, deep dive, don't graze the surface. Learn, accept, BE.

Can you love your corpse body when the flies choose you before people do? When moss crawls over your ribs like nature reclaiming what loneliness left behind? Can you still touch your ruined skin and whisper, you're pretty, without choking on the lie? Can you kiss the mouth that never smiled correctly enough for the world to keep? Because people love the public version. The romantic self. The soft voice. The carefully stitched personality perfumed to survive attention. They love the body before decay. Before truth. Before the rot starts speaking. But the real question is this: Can you love yourself when there is nothing beautiful left to perform? When your ugliness is exposed like organs split open under fluorescent light. When your darkness smells too human for anyone else to hold. Can you still call yourself worthy when even your reflection looks haunted by you? Or will you wait for strangers to approve the mask first before learning how to love the corpse underneath it? Humans spend their whole lives decorating coffins and calling it self-worth.

Here to share my thoughts through poetry and the photographs I have taken and posted on Instagram under #Oliediaries ✨️🦋💜

Some of these words were born from love, others from loneliness, and the rest from memories that never learned how to fade. I didn't plan to write a collection - I just kept feeling things too deeply.

American singing leagues

Xuxia is a striking free-spirited poem that captures the essence of a woman who refuses to be defined by anyone but herself. She moves through life with bold confidence, quiet strength, and a fire that can't be dimmed. Unapologetic and untamed, Xuxia speaks to independence, resilience, and self-made identity-where scars become power and solitude becomes freedom. This poem paints her as both mystery and force: a woman who doesn't follow paths, she creates them. With vivid imagery and a strong emotional rhythm, Xuxia is a celebration of individuality, inner strength, and the beauty of standing alone without ever feeling incomplete.

Too much alive to be Dead Too much dead to be Alive

Muse is a self-love poetry book focused on healing, self-confidence, emotional growth, and personal transformation. This poetry collection explores themes of self-worth, identity, self-acceptance, and inner healing through reflective, emotionally honest poems. Each piece speaks to the process of rebuilding confidence, rediscovering softness without weakness, and learning how to return to yourself after loss, doubt, or emotional distance. These are self-love poems for reader navigating healing journeys, practicing self-care, or learning to feel whole again. The collection blends emotional healing poetry with quiet empowerment, making space for reflection, softness, and personal growth. Muse is not a static poetry book. It is an evolving collection. I will continue to add new poems over time as the book is meant to grow alongside the journey of becoming, for me and the you as the reader. Perfect for readers who enjoy:
self-love poetry, healing poetry books, self-confidence poems, emotional healing, self-worth recovery, personal growth poetry, soft empowerment, and reflective contemporary poetry. At its core, Muse is about this:
learning how to choose yourself, again and again without apology.

Hey guys, these are just some poems that I wrote. Some were written back in 2017 and some are fairly new. I hope you enjoy them xx

‎A collection of poems about the quiet magic of friendship and the complexity of relationships, about the moments we shared, the words we never said, and the feelings that stayed long after everything else changed. These poems live in the spaces between laughter and silence, closeness and distance, holding onto what it means to truly connect with another soul.

A poem of items I hold dearest.

Calling all poets on wattpad! Weave your words , Make them Yours, For it's time for a Contest! Where not only your poems , but your soul will be tested. The Contest allows any poet to participate. A 'poet' isn't just a word, it's a commitment, a commitment to grace and love. I believe every deserving poet should get recognition, and I hope this will help. Open ( ) Judging ( ) Closed (•)

this is a collection of poems and stories that wear their warning colors proudly. In nature aposematism is a signal, bright, beautiful, and toxic. Approach with caution. These poems do the same. This series of poems moves through grief like smoke and love like something you were never supposed to survive. It speaks from the soft underbelly of mental illness, spiritual awakening, obsession, dissociation, devotion, and the aching need to be understood without being consumed. Here, healing is not sanitized. The self fractures, reforms, and fractures again. Each poem is both an offering and boundary, an altar built from confession, myth, neuroscience, and soul deep intuition. This is not a guidebook. It is not a cure. It is a signal flare for anyone who has ever been told they were too much, too intense, too sensitive, or too strange. Read gently. Read honestly. Do not consume what is meant to be witnessed. DISCLAIMER: I have uploaded AI generated images as placeholders until i create some original art to go with my pieces, thank you 🖤🤍

Textiles is a collection of the tangible--threads you can hold and turn in your hand. It explores gothic betrayal, dignity, history, and the ache found within uncovering truths. These objects carry beauty, but within their hidden seams lies the heart of this series.

Yet I am too afraid, to let it show Reveal my gift, let the world know...

Poetries that force you to think,that sends chills down your spine,that escorts you to another world.....

This is a collection of poems made when my emotions reach a certain stage of level this is me expressing myself on a piece of paper

He walked in and shouted "STOP" I was scared when I realized it was him. When he saw me he was walking towards me, I was raging in anger, I wanted to slap him, but I couldn't. I couldn't slap him or do anything. It was like I was under a spell, I couldn't do anything, but hug him. I know I said I would never forgive him if he ever begged me, but as I saw his face all the nice memories that we had together ran past my head. My husband pulled me away and slapped me, he was angry. That was the moment I realized that I had made the mistake of my life. It was now time for me to choose between Tunde, my first love, and Dapo, the man I was getting married to.