9 Self love poems

I used to think softness was weakness that to survive i had to be sharp and armored turns out softness is the harder thing to maintain under pressure i work on soft every day it's the stronger choice

When I used to focus on the worries, everybody was ahead of me, I was the bottom of the totem pole, a largely spread squat animal. How about a quick massage now, he said to me. I don’t think it’s cool, I replied. Oh, said he, after a pause, I should have waited for you to ask me. The waves came in closer and closer. When I fall into the gap of suspicion I am no longer here. In this world that has got closed over by houses and networks, I fly out from under the belly.     Life’s dizzy crown of whirling lights, circles this head.    Pure with wonder, hot with wonder.    The streets become golden.     All size increases, the colors glow, we are in myth. We are in easy understanding. Scarcely talking, thoughts pass between us. It is memory.    As I search to find this day’s sweet drifting.    The fog out to sea, the wind.

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms, The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It’s the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can’t touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them, They say they still can’t see. I say, It’s in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. Now you understand Just why my head’s not bowed. I don’t shout or jump about Or have to talk real loud. When you see me passing, It ought to make you proud. I say, It’s in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair, the palm of my hand, The need for my care. ’Cause I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.

Dear Frustrated in Flatbush, Gurl, just go on ahead then. You waiting for your Daddy to give you the thumbs up? Do what you like. Do what makes your ass happy. They gon’ call you all makes and sizes of hoe anyway. That’s how this thing been set up. But just cuz they name a thing a thing, don’t mean it ain’t still named God in some other language. Your fortune cookie say you poppin’. You a full spread of good shit. Your rotten wisdom tooth. Your pockmarked shoulders. Those eyelashes ain’t come here to talk about the weather. You the hottest day in July and every fire hydrant in this city is written out to your name. Whatchu dead fish for? Whatchu call that stroke? Drowning? Baptism? Gurl, you betta lick that collection plate clean and stop pretending you just got off the first canoe from Heaven. You ain’t nothin but a big bowl of sweat rice. You wring your left thigh, they call you Vintage JuJu. They like, “This some kind of nightmare?” And it’s just you, smoking a blunt in the dark, cackling like rain. Like your grandmama at her ain’t-shit husband’s funeral. Bitch, you been a woman. This ain’t new skin. Slap some Lycra on it and call yourself a predicament. You ain’t just somebody’s meal plan. Pull back your hair and eat. And look at this muhfukka, sittin across the table, lookin like he wanna bite you. Tonight is tonight and tomorrow might be somewhere else, serenading some lesser bitch. Throw his ass a bone and stop worrying about your credit score. You stay banging your tambourine to the wrong hymnal. I’m sure they had names and inescapable mouths but what your ex gotta do with this? Why you still got his body in your linen closet? That’s nasty. Bitch, keep your house clean. You crying over spilled dick. Gurl buh-bye. Getchu a free refill. You too black for indie film housewife. You too naked for conversation like this. Too much soft brutality, too much bathtub depression. Why you always got your neck swung open? Free throat don’t pay for your boy’s sneakers. You already know I don’t even sigh for free. Shit, I stroke a shallow strobe light, inchworm down 4 feet of greasy pole, and I still don’t feel like any less than a miracle.

My own heart let me more have pity on; let Me live to my sad self hereafter kind, Charitable; not live this tormented mind With this tormented mind tormenting yet. I cast for comfort I can no more get By groping round my comfortless, than blind Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find Thirst's all-in-all in all a world of wet. Soul, self; come, poor Jackself, I do advise You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts awhile Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size At God knows when to God knows what; whose smile 's not wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather — as skies Betweenpie mountains — lights a lovely mile.

My body has been everyone's opinion for years commented on corrected adjusted it's mine actually i'm the one who lives here i'm the one who decides

To the kid who was me at fourteen alone with a secret i want to say: you don't have to carry this alone it gets louder and lighter at the same time you survive the carrying

I wrote this on my mirror in dry-erase marker three years ago i erased it twice and wrote it back again still working on meaning it

The mirror and i have worked out a truce some days i look good some days i look like a person trying to look good either way i show up that's what we agreed