an entity of CONTRADICTIONS.

She’ll fight,
She’ll sacrifice.
She’ll be graceful,
She’ll quench people’s eyes.

Her precise steps,
With a poker face,
Leaving contemplation
On each one’s gaze.
–  excerpt from the poem “Stilettos” featured in the book “an entity of CONTRADICTIONS” by traveller

Step into transitions of emotions, feelings and reactions, recognizing our interactions and responses to them: https://notionpress.com/read/an-entity-of-contradictions

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

The Parts I Hated

I see myself sobbing
for doing the same insane things as before.
I curse myself
with these detrimental words until I fall asleep.

I am not comfortable with my knotty hair,
neither with the set of eyes I have,
neither with my pale complexion.

I procrastinate a lot because
I know things will never get done though I have it started.
Thus, I am not trusting myself with these responsibilities.
This makes me want to stare at the moon
and have a conversation with it instead.

I hate myself doing commitment.
I don’t like myself surrounded with people
whom I get to envy with,
as if myself is a huge filter
but only remains there are pieces of self-pity and self-hatred.

I limit myself with thinking happy thoughts
but ended up condemning the last optimist part of me.
Putting it into a jar and celebrating its last breathing.

I am despotic.
My mind is polluted with every cruelty
this universe could offer.
I can recite the ABC of selfishness.
I can sing the melody of stubbornness
in perfect harmony.

I hate that I need to please people
and show them my worth –
like a theater audition,
I’ll do whatever you would want me to do,
I’ll go wherever you’ll go.
Am I a dog to you?

I displease myself when I’m obsessed with someone.
As if you are my favorite person
whom I need to choose every day.
That I keep myself imagining the two of us
like those romantic shits
from the books I am reading.
That we could create our story
and you will be my favorite genre.

I displease myself when I’m obsessed with someone.
That I am so sick of hiding my feelings.
That whenever you ignore me,
I create a thin line between pauses and delays.
That I want to wake myself up to this distortion I formed.
That it always ends asking myself
why am I attach to a person who doesn’t appreciate me at all?

I don’t like myself when I am compared to someone.
Or when I am jealous.
Or when I am in the least priority.
Silence could not just mean no.
Silence could also mean I am here
waiting for your eyes meet mine
because I also love to feel the need to be needed.

I dislike myself every time I feel longing.
Or every time I see your photos –
I create a vessel and fill that up
with memories of you:
that time when you hold my hand,
that time when you are laughing,
that time when you call me by my first name.

I am a predicament of nice things,
of fall shorts,
and in between.
I am short-tempered that I consume my present being.
Like a gasoline.
Like the last thing it can do now is to get my body burning
and to create an enormous dust
like a mass of ashes heaped together.
And I will write my favorite word to whatever left in there.

I hate that I am not perfect.
I hate that I am not that good enough.
I hate that I am the party
I don’t want to attend to.
And I hate myself taking part in this universe
only by existing.

I am Angelo from the Philippines. I am currently teaching Literature for high school students, and yes, I am in love with literature. I am newbie on this platform, doing blogs I mean, but I am kinda following your page and some other great creators so I can be improved as with the content and style. Hoping that I could write my very own novel one day. 🙂
Blog: https://thebookmarksentiments.wordpress.com/

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Unspoken

There they were at the edge
Where the lingering tide retreated.
Toes in the sand,
Heads in the clouds,
Every silent breath was a word left unsaid.
And all they wanted to say
Were congealed into tears
Trickling onto the shore,
Awaiting the next tide.

This poem captures the final moments between two lovers at the end of their relationship. There are many things to say after a break up, but most of the time we don’t get to say what we want to. And sometimes it’s too late.
If you like this poem, do visit my blog at https://gabrielwoo.wordpress.com for more.
Instagram: @poemsfromthebar

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Just Like Stats in the Sky

I look up in the sky,
A resting place for countless stars,
Gleaming brightly.
Hastily I remembered your face,
Which dazzle just like them.
I vacillate,
As I dive into stroke clouded memories of our past.
When we saw love all around,
When we used to hold hope,
When we were together in our highs and our lows,
When we knew the best place where we could dance in endless nights,
When I was under spell asking myself “What have you done?”,
When I thought finally I have a world of my own.
Now it’s just irrational and surreal as a dream.
Which fades away like a bubble when I wake up from sleep.
-AS-

My blog id : desirealley.wordpress.com

I am not a professional in writing, just pen down my feelings and thoughts whenever I feel loved and confident. My name is Aakanksha and I am an aspiring writer.

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

The Devil

I met you here in my dream
You used to walk past me trying to show off your magnetic smile that I’m most addicted at.
Whenever I get up, you just disappear
So why why you just appeared and simply left my heart hole of grief?
You, my devil was

Such a powerful devil that enjoys playing my heart
Oh smart devil, take me along with you
For what I’m not worth living lack of your waves, drown me everyday in your ocean and never let me get any survival from there.
If so, I’ll surely thank to you.

Hi I’m Twizzle and I mostly make freelance blogs you can check my blogs at
https://fameorflame.wordpress.com/.

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

The Dried Rose

It tells a story of its own,
It’s an open book
With some pages torn…
The soft petals, echo a tale,
Of promises as frail,
As a silken thread.
Like the yellow leaves that have shed,
From the mighty old trunk,
Standing tall and strong,
Supporting those nests that blossom,
Embracing them tight, in its bosom.
Those leaves lament, and yearn for
A touch that has been lost before.
They were crumpled beneath merciless feet
Like emotions choked by ignorance.
The feelings didn’t fade away, they were just hidden,
Lost into eternity, like the lingering fragrance,
Of that once sweet smelling rose.
The bright vermilion red colour,
That lead to a thousand fantasies,
Of adorning the parted hair,
With the same vermilion…
But those are now just chapters closed,
With endings abrupt.
The dried rose in that book,
Indeed, brings back memories
That had been buried in a dark corner,
Of the heart, that itself,
Has been broken into a hundred pieces.
A poignant drop of saline water,
Falls from the misty eyes,
There’s an ache in that blood pumping device,
That pains you, yet you desire
To succumb to it and transcend into those
Unfulfilled dreams.
But the gentle breeze that caresses your hair,
Reminds you of the realities of life
Like the rose, that has withered with time,
Like events and deeds, that can’t be undone,
Like those treasured memories that have now sublimed,
Like the indiscreet nature
That made us forfeit,
Life is about moving on and filling the blank pages of your book,
With some chapters, meant to be incomplete…

Shreya Chatterjee is a 18 years old student and belongs to Jharkhand, India. She has a passion for poetry. She is an amateur blogger and writer, writes for magazines and local newspapers and moulds her thoughts into words at her website The Brainy Essays (here’s the link https://thebrainyessays.wordpress.com/ ) She stands by the quote “If you want to predict the future, invent it yourself.”

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

 

Being Held in Grace

Hi, my name is Maria Teresa Pratico aka Ladysag77. I write poetry to help me process my feelings and emotions. I am an intuitive empath and a woman living with Complex PTSD. I have survived many life circumstances that threatened to take me out and dim my light completely. Having always had a fierce curiosity for the human condition and humanity in general, I write to share hope and faith while inspiring others to live my motto of “Triumphing over Trauma”

My blog can be found at https://www.emotionalmusings.com and I have 2 IG profiles that are @Ladysag77 and @emotionalmusings

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com