Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Compassion weaves where love may falter,  
A steady flame, no winds can alter.  
It holds the weight of sorrow's hue,  
A quiet strength, both deep and true.  

In tolerance, it finds its grace,  
In kindness, shapes the softest space.  
While love may burn and often fade,  
Compassion's roots are ever laid.
RhymeReRhyme Sep 19
The shadow self, the parts I disavow,
The aspects of myself I can't allow
To surface in the light, the hidden traits,
That fester in the darkness, sealed by gates.
The anger, envy, jealousy, and greed,
The insecurities that plant a poisonous seed,
The fear of abandonment, the need to cling,
The wounds that never truly learn to sing.
I cannot run, I cannot hide away
From this reflection staring back today,
I must embrace the darkness, understand
The reasons why it holds me in its hand.
To integrate the shadow, piece by piece,
To find compassion, grant myself release,
From the self-condemnation, the endless blame,
And recognize the human in the frame.
To understand the origins of my pain,
The childhood traumas that still leave their stain,
The patterns learned, the coping mechanisms used,
The wounds inflicted, the defenses infused.
To see the child within, afraid and small,
Desperate for love, and fearing any fall,
To offer comfort, understanding, grace,
And heal the broken places, time and space.
This journey inward, difficult and long,
Demands vulnerability, a strength that's strong,
To face the ugliness, the raw, unfiltered truth,
And find the beauty hidden in my youth.
For in the shadow, strength can be found,
Resilience forged on consecrated ground,
A deeper understanding of the soul,
A path to wholeness, making me whole.
By integrating the shadow, I can see
The darkness not as enemy, but me,
A part of myself, deserving of embrace,
A source of wisdom, finding its own place.
This period in life so long over due..

Sitting in the discomfort until I’m black and blue
Joshua Phelps Sep 14
I remember the days
when compassion
wasn’t a stranger.

Now we’re in darker times.

A creeping feeling—
apathy is the norm.
It feels dangerous
to know
there’s no turning back.

All caught up
in the madness,
no room
for sadness.

We live in a world
where humanity
has fallen.

Gaslighting everywhere.
No one reads
between the lines.

They glance past the facts,
look away
instead of standing
for human rights.

I remember the days
when compassion
wasn’t a stranger.

When we weren’t told
to sympathize
with hate.

I can live
with madness.
But to accept it
as the norm—
that is madness.
this poem came out fast — urgent, unpolished. it speaks to the ache of watching compassion slip from the public eye, replaced by apathy and gaslight. it’s a refusal to accept cruelty as the norm.
Daniel Tucker Jan 2017
So still she lies,
Sleeping.
A cold room
Cold thoughts.  
Under cover of cotton and linen.        

A cold lonely wind
Cries outside
Longing to find solace
In the warmth of our home
But finding only that it devourers
By its own devices
What it so desperately desires.

Pain in my brow
Forged with hers.
Sharing breaks
Up the pain--
Comfort of depression's transitory end.

Why do you hurt the ones you love
When you want only peace?!
A lover of the land
Must plough the earth for yield
Break the ground in fury
To prepare it for seed.

This pain awaits our company
Like a bottle to a drunkard          
Or a needle to a ******.

Comfort is pain
Pain is comfort

In this violent serenity
As the calm peaceful sea
Can in one moment  
Turn into a tumultuous gale.

Is love for the using?!
Can a person justify
Putting lines of age on the face
And gray hairs on the head
Of the one they love?!

So many carry this burden.
Love shares common ground--
Seasons for ploughing and planting;
And harvest,
The season of closure.

So still she lies
Beside me.
A cold room
Warmer thoughts.
Under cover of cotton and linen.

Under cover of compassion
And understanding.
© 2017 Daniel Tucker

You gotta keep working at it through the years.
Joshua Phelps Sep 12
You’ve spent a long time walking
down a darker lane,
spiraled out of control,
dragged yourself
into the wrong kind of fame.

Now you’re picking up the pieces,
learning they’ll only remember
who you used to be—
not who you are now,
not who you’re becoming.

There is no turning point
when they look the other way.
Still you hope that someday
someone will take you
with open arms.

’Cause there’s no greater harm
than being lonely,
being lost.
No greater harm
than being lonely,
being lost.

You’ve reached your breaking point,
almost given in.
But I want you to know:
your past does not define
who you are,
or what you’ve become.

You cannot let the sins of yesterday
swallow you whole.
Yesterday doesn’t define
who you’ve become today.

And today,
you are enough.
This piece was written with the ache of loneliness in mind — and the quiet reminder that yesterday’s weight doesn’t get to define today. Sometimes the simplest truth is the one we most need to hear: you are enough.
When do we change?
Is it now?
Or in ten years time…
Is it in 2999?
Is this a sign or an unseen shrine?

Can we travel lightyears of compassion to finally reach what matters?
And join the orchestras of our hearts to form a cacophony of beauty that grows to other planets, admitting how lost we are…

Or are we hate first, death burp, old church…
Starving billions yet again just to prove a point -
Just so we can light a joint and oink -

Why must we parade, not permeate?…
Escape but stay safe…
We could evolve from the inside now, freeing every structure of our being…
Procuring our loving spout, rather than drowning in doubt…

When will you decide to step into the liquid mirror, joining timelines of past and future -
Upon which - being that every-creature; you see through a lensless camera…
Can you embody the real virtue and meaning of captured existence, and in doing so outshine death by becoming life itself?…
Lizzie Bevis Aug 29
Not all who have suffered
pass on their pain,
some embrace kindness,
so others won't feel the same.
They build safe spaces
where healing begins,
and turn their own pain
into nurturing within.

The cycles of hurt
they choose to defeat,
creating resilience,
and cathartic retreats.
Broken souls learn
compassionate truths,
that healing oneself
can be powerful too.

©️Lizzie Bevis
"Never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense." - Winston Churchill
girlinflames Aug 11
Riding the subway
I realize there are so many people
so many people, really
I wonder if all of them
are okay
I can understand that one is knowledgeable,
While understanding that this is not correlative or indicative of intelligence.
Likewise, I can understand one is both, or can be both,
And respect that in specific.
Yet; I can likewise understand,
That while the aforementioned individual(s)
Merits respect in that or those specific aspect(s) and/or attribute(s),
That that individual lacks patience & compassion.
And so that individual is ultimately unworthy/undeserving
Of any greater respect than in understanding them.

Otherwise, I hamper myself & only hinder others
In both intelligence & understanding.

Conversely, I can appreciate that one may understand what they're talking about
Even if I don't fully understand the experience as described.
Whether this is an aspect of one's own ignorance, as in a lack of understanding or confusion,
Or to/by the nature of how/what information is conveyed.
I can appreciate that communication can sometimes be difficult.
I can respect that individual still;
But only if they're earnestly, honestly trying & attempting to.
Only if they're honest & forthright in it & even about it.

Otherwise, they hamper only themselves & hinder others
In both knowledge & intelligence.
`
Next page