Reverse Poetry

Happy New Year everyone!  Sorry, I’ve been slacking off on my blog posts these days.  Anyhow, I will ring in 2019 with some creative poetry.  I came across this poem by Abdullah Shoaib from a friend’s post on Facebook and was inspired by the concept.

When you read the poem from top-down, the narrator has a low self-esteem, but if you read the poem from bottom-up, she is comfortable and confident.  This structure of displaying opposite messaging does take some careful crafting, so I decided to try one of my own as well =)  I hope you enjoy both poems and I encourage you to try one of your own.



Bridal Memories

You open your eyes
and awake to a sunlit room
with birds chirping in the sky
and your sweetie sleeping
next to you.

Lying on clean sheets
with double happiness
signs above you.

Listening to his breathing
puts you at ease.
Last night’s memories
feels like a dream.

Your light blue veil
billows in the wind,
your dress train cascades
on the lush green grass
as you walk down the aisle,
arm and arm with Dad.

Sparkling smile,
sparkling dress.
He takes your hand,
you look into his eyes.
You exchange vows
over the beautiful reservoir
under the bright blue sky.

Kissing under the gazebo,
hand in hand, man and wife
walk down the aisle,
greeted by family and friends.

Laughter, chatter,
photos galore…
bits and pieces
come back to you…

The promises he made
while he held your hand.
The promises you made
while looking into his eyes.
The toast your best friend gave
that made you want to cry.

The first dance
in your wedding dress.
The first bite of cake
you tasted together.
The little girl
that caught your bouquet.
All the little things
that he said,
that she said,
that they said
were cool.

Your hair feeling
like a bird’s nest.
You can barely walk,
but everyone says
you’re beautiful.
You have 51 bobby pins
in your hair,
and you just don’t care,
dancing to the music.

It’s all so surreal,
but it’ll definitely be captured
on the highlight reel,
as you look back on yesterday
and smile,
lying next to your sweetie,
today, tomorrow, and for the rest
of your life.

photo by Michael Keel

Emotionless Wall

Last week I posted about what it meant to be an INTJ personality type and how it affected my emotions (or lack thereof).  I thought it would be fitting to post a poem I wrote many years ago that described my emotional capacity.

Emotionless Wall

Blurs of people,Emotionless Wall
swirls of feelings,
surrounding, engulfing,
suffocating me.

They are laughing,
smiling, joking,
screaming and crying,
burning the streets with passion,
waiting in anticipation,
cowering in fear,
drowning in endless tears,
but they do not move me.

“Her father is dead,”
so I’ve heard.
But hard as I try,
I cannot cry.
Not one single tear
to show that I care…

I want to feel for her,
I want to share her pain,
but I can’t do a thing.
I can’t say a word of comfort,
I can’t say I understand.

Sympathy, empathy…
they are beyond me.
All my emotions
buried deep down inside.
I dig and I pry,
but hard as I try,
I still cannot cry.

I only nod and gaze,
wondering if I’m human,
‘cuz I can’t feel a thing,
not a thing at all,
an emotionless wall.

A Dream Within A Dream

You find yourself wondering
if what had happened,
happened in a dream,
but you can’t remember,
because it’s surreal, yet real,
until you realize
that you’re still dreaming,
and what had happened
happened in a dream
within a dream.

It’s like a weird inception
of the subconscious.
When you awake,
you are baffled, confused,
what does it mean?

Did the event that happened
really happen?
Or did it really happen
in a dream?

Or did it happen in a dream
within a dream?




Swirls and Stars

Are you poetically inclined
to change my mind,
with words and phrases
and changing phases –
Winter, spring, summer, fall,
life, love, sadness and all?

To laugh, to cry,
to laugh and cry,
to fail, to try,
to try and fail.

It’s bittersweet
when nothing remains
as you cringe in pain
in the pounding rain,
bleeding in shame,
wondering what
you had done wrong.

Too short
to find happiness,
long enough
to cherish memories.

Loving pain,
hating love,
needing both.

The oxymoron
where shadows mix
with sunlit rays.
Metaphors and similes
don’t change a thing.
Touch my life.
Yeah, right.

I know the truth,
hidden deeper
and deeper
in my mind,
reflected in
your sparkling eyes,

a heart-shaped
above your lips,
whispering words
of comfort,
to cover thoughts
of pain.

Yes, I know.
Are you still
poetically inclined
to change my mind?

Perfectly Imperfect

Is there something that you’ve always wanted to do, but something beyond your control was holding you back?  I recently went on a camping trip that included an 8 mile hike, and I realized how annoyed and frustrated I was.  I have these crazy, finicky knees that like to buckle and twist whenever it makes any sort of unexpected impact.  Once they twist, the knees, of course, become swollen.  Because of this issue, I cannot run or do intense sports because I can easily hurt myself.  I can go hiking on flat trails and hike uphill, but when I go downhill, I have to be extra careful and watch every single step that I take to avoid any rocks or twigs that can cause an “unexpected impact.”  It’s very frustrating because I have to hike downhill very slowly.  Instead of getting tired from physical exertion, I get tired from physically concentrating on watching my step.  To top it off, I always feel bad when someone stays behind to wait for me, when I know they prefer to go at a faster pace.

However, with all that said, I realized something.  There’s a difference between accepting a fact and giving up and accepting a fact and making improvements.  I know that I can do better than that, so I will strive for it.  I know that I will never be as athletic as a normal person, but I can be the best ME possible, and that’s enough.  I set my own goals and I reach for them.

Here is a poem I wrote a while back that really describes my perfectly imperfect knees.


Perfectly Imperfect

A loose carpet, a crack in the street
and KABAM, she falls –
bleeding internally, she grins
like nothing has happened
because it has happened
so many times before
and will …
many times more.

Her sorrow
no one truly understands
as she tries to do
all that everyone else can.
Staying healthy, staying happy,
concealing her knees
behind jeans and skirts,
perfecting the imperfect limp
and bearing it all,
smiling like a doll

as she lies on the floor,
and stares at the ceiling.
It’s a different state of mind,
a different state of being.
With her legs propped up,
stiff as a stick,
swollen and heavy,
she thinks to herself,
what a wonderful life …

if she could run
like the wind
and be MVP,
but knees don’t heal

To be normal,
to be all that she is
and wants to be,
she puts on her braces
and smiles once more
for now she is normal,
somewhat …
as she cries inside,
nobody knows
because nobody’s

A Kaleidoscope of Colors

A kaleidoscope of colors
twirling in my mind.
How can I describe
the feelings I feel inside?
Can I open up my heart,
hoping to open up your eyes
to see the side of me
that you do not know?

Sensations tingling in my spine,
sounds buzzing in my ears,
fear pounding in my heart.
The deeper we go,
the darker it gets –
shades of red and purple,
and chromatic blacks,
but on the surface,
all you see is yellow.

Shining brightly,
a smile on my face
with tears deep down inside.
A kaleidoscope of colors
twirling in my mind.
Do I dare to show
the side of me
you do not know?
The side that isn’t

Image from:

High on Relaxation

a walk in the park,
a glance at the stars,
some chatting, some eating
cookies ‘n cream ice cream,

some humming,
some sipping
vanilla lattes
in a mellow cafe
writing poetry
on a rainy day.

some drawing, some painting,
some reading
on the couch,
some dancing, some jumping
some musical therapy.

some snuggling,
some cuddling,
some aromatherapy
some sleeping,
some dreaming,
a total ME day,
a dream come true.

– Read about how I spent my Friday “me day” here.