Mine,still I rise!
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- Parts 2
This is not just poetry -it's survival in stanzas
"Mine still I rise" hold voice of a girl learning to breathe through pain, truth and becoming.
in every line, she peels back silence and find strength where it once broke her.
These are poems for anyone who has felt too much but said too little ✨
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Stay ✔
All the thoughts in my head that just won't go away. Maybe this will make you stay. ~~~~~ #77 in poetry [9. 27.17] #90 in poetry [8. 16. 17] #136 in poetry [8.03.17]Complete
A collection of poems
I don't think poem is the right term here. It's just a collection of my thoughts and other stuff. Some are short stories, some are real, some aren't. Don't be too concerned if they appear too pessimistic, it's just me having fun with new narrative voices. Oh yeah, trigger warning btw - nothing super concrete, but there's some pretty violent imagery which I for some reason failed to consider. I am under the understanding that this is unlikely to be found by anyone, this is only so that I can have this archived in the case of my phone dying as they are all on my notes app.
|°Simply Structure°|
Poetry has always completely held me together. It's kind like how you breathe oxygen. It's something I have to do. Poetry is something like oxygen to me. Without it I wouldn't survive. ~ remember love is a crime and I'll do the time for loving what's not mine.💜Complete
The Prince And The Rose
A Tale As Old As Time... A Whole New World... We Must Have Courage and Be Kind 🧞♂️🌹🤴 ____ This is a tale as timeless as it is true. The streets of Cinderwood are patrolled by the remnants of ghosts-foundations built on the bones of the weak, innocent, and kind. The Mafia Elite reigns supreme. To the North and the East, Roman Alvarez, a tyrant driven solely by greed and malicious intent, guards his domain behind towering gates. Chained to his throne is the Northern Syndicate Prince, Malachi Alvarez-power confined by a leash, freedom dictated by it. To the West, Alexander Jamison's brutal rule commands respect and fear. The Western Syndicate Prince, a genuine monster whose only boundary is his formidable legacy. Alongside Cassandra Jamison, whose cold heart is shrouded in silk, they vow to dominate everything-even the forgotten. In the South lies the forgotten-a bleeding community starved for hope. The streets echo with the aroma of bakery pastries, a symbol of resilience. The masked hero who restores hope to the South and challenges the syndicate's war efforts is Isabella Valentino-the Southern Rose. Some fairy tales end with happily ever after, others feature glass slippers. Who says it can't be both?
Maybe in another life, huh?
Hey guys, this is my first try. This book is a collection of poems. It's a piece of me, a quiet mix of thoughts, memories, and small truths about family. It's not perfect. It's not all happy, either. But it's real. ----- These poems talk about distance, growing up, silence, and the little things that stay with us even when we try to move on. Some of it might feel heavy, some might feel calm, just like family does sometimes.
poems for you. always for you. ✓
poems for you. poems for the ex best friends and the lost 'forevers'. poems for the memories that burn and fade before burning again. poems for the emptiness that is heavy and hollow in hearts. poems for the fleeting, fiery moments of happiness that are always worth it in the end. poems for the words that have saved me, the words that i hope will travel the whole world to find you. poems for me. (misc collection ~ some are love poems, sad shit, prompt-inspired, etc) cover credit: @leolantsov #1 on 'teenpoet' Jan. 4, 2021 #1 on 'originalpoetry' Feb. 6, 2021 #1 on 'poetess' Feb. 25, 2021 #1 on 'mypoetry' Apr. 28, 2021 #1 on 'poetic' Jul. 25, 2021Complete
Quiet storm
You ever love somebody so soft, it sound like rain hittin' a window instead of thunder? She wasn't chaos - she was calm. The type of peace that make a man put down everything that hurt him just to hold her right. They called me hard 'cause I survived. She called me human 'cause I could still feel. I ain't know love could whisper. Ain't know healing could hum. She ain't fix me - she reminded me I wasn't broken. She saw poetry where the world saw pressure. Told me even the street got a heartbeat if you listen close enough. Now I walk different. Talk different. Love louder - even when I don't say nothin'. 'Cause love like ours don't need noise. It's steady. It's home. It's the quiet after the storm.Complete
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"Almost, Always" 🍁🌹 Some people enter your life like whispers...soft, sudden, and gone before you can hold on. She didn't expect to see him again. Not after years, not like this. Not when she had finally learned how to forget the boy who never truly left her mind. But fate isn't loud..it's quiet, casual... cruel. In a classroom filled with noise, their glances screamed stories. A slow-burn connection, unsaid words, and almosts that could've been everything. This is not a fairytale. This is a memory rewritten..with the ending she deserved.
THE BOOK OF FORGOTTEN DELIBERATELY
"Some truths don't set you free. They set you on fire." They told me not to open that book. They warned me with stories-old, crusty ones-about madness, about secrets best left untouched. They said the library's far wing was cursed. That the books in that section didn't whisper wisdom-they screamed. But curiosity has a strange way of settling into your bones, especially when you've lived your entire life inside walls built from someone else's truths. My name? It doesn't matter-not yet. This story isn't about names. It's about what was forgotten deliberately. And how I found it. I wasn't born a rebel. I didn't want to challenge kingdoms or rewrite history. I just wanted to understand who I was, why I felt out of place, and what those strange dreams meant. The ones with burning skies and voices calling me by a name no one else knew. This isn't a tale of heroes and villains. It's messier than that. It's about a girl who found a truth so big, it didn't fit into her world. And maybe-just maybe-it won't fit into yours either. But I'll tell it anyway. Because stories like this-whispers like these-were never meant to stay silent. Disclaimer This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locales is purely coincidental. The stories in this book are designed to entertain, provoke thought, and explore a range of emotions and themes. They do not intend to offend or represent any belief system, historical accuracy, or cultural narrative in a literal way. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without the prior written permission of the author.Complete
Brutally yours
To the quiet girls with stormy hearts. To the boys who feel too much but show too little. To those who were never chosen first - but loved like they were the last. This story is for the unseen, the unheard, the untamed. For every soul who thought they were "too soft" for this world - and found someone who didn't just see their softness, but protected it with fire. For anyone who still believes that love isn't always gentle - but when it's real, it is brutally honest, brutally fierce, and brutally yours. And most of all - To the one who dreams loud in silence: This is your story. You just haven't lived it yet.Complete
All the thoughts in my head that just won't go away. Maybe this will make you stay. ~~~~~ #77 in poetry [9. 27.17] #90 in poetry [8. 16. 17] #136 in poetry [8.03.17]
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