Perseverance Poems
56. Adversity Anniversaries
by Kea Campbell
Loving had never made me feel so lonely, and living never made me feel so lifeless.
Patience was scarce and I was desperate for rest, and the only peace I found was in romanticizing my death.
Hate was addictive, but only towards myself, because I bought into the beauty standards that society sells.
At 10 I didn't know that it was rape and not love, because I believed what he told me until he hurt me for fun.
12 and I hoped that my heart surgery would fail, because at least it'd get me out of writing fair wells.
14 and I wondered “What if infanticide would have won?” or “What if my parents had never given me up?”
16 and my wrists were an escape from the numb, and the only things I believed in were my sports and bulimia.
18 and my stories grew older and untold, because no one had time to be friends with broken souls.
19 and 1 month and I feel most alive; now I know how to live, and not just survive.
......
Blijf gaan
by Mario Odekerken
Wanneer de storm de sterren wist,
en wanhoop langs de velden dwaalt,
verhef dan stil uw trotse geest,
en blijf,al breekt de nacht,nog staand.
Wanneer uw hoop tot as vervliegt,
en elke droom als stof vergaat,
wees als de bron die immer wiegt,
en onverzettelijk verder gaat.
......
you, monster in my heart.
by Aurelia Lucina Wealthberg
You, monster in my heart,
heartless creature from the abyss,
Your hideous figure haunts my soul,
Lurking In the shadows of my dreams,
just like a ghoul,
I feel your sight stalking me in the night,
I try to hide
in the sweet embrace of purple skies,
But your aura sticks
......
Carry on
by Mario Odekerken
When the ground shakes and the sky breaks,
when the wolves of fear are at your gate,
clench your fists,defy your fate--
roar your name-and carry on.
When blood and sweat have paved your way,
when night consumes the light of day,
stand unbroken in the fray--
raise your sword-and carry on.
......
Walking into the wind
by Chris Quinn
There’s nothing for it sometimes,
But to walk straight and face into it,
Eyes and nose running
from the frigid gale,
Wind pushing back like an indifferent mob
There’s nothing for it sometimes
But to throw your arms wide,
and push back
Looking to the joy of coming home
......
Don't ask me why,but I will
by Mario Odekerken
I stand at the edge,
not to measure the fall,
but the feel the wind press against choice.
There is no promise
in the path ahead,
only the quiet pull of something
unnamed.
I do not owe answers
......
Blijf gaan 02
by Mario Odekerken
Wanneer de aarde beeft en stilte daalt,
wanneer de hoop zich sluimerend verschuilt,
leg dan je hand op het getij--
en keer niet om,maar blijf gaan.
Wanneer de dromen dun als mist verwaaien,
en 't donker woekert in je trouw,
wees als de roos die stormen trotseert--
buig niet,maar blijf gaan.
......
Blijf gaan
by Mario Odekerken
Wanneer de storm de sterren wist,
en wanhoop langs de velden dwaalt,
verhef dan stil uw trotse geest,
en blijf,al breekt de nacht,nog staand.
Wanneer uw hoop tot as vervliegt,
en elke droom als stof vergaat,
wees als de bron die immer wiegt,
en onverzettelijk verder gaat.
......
Carry on
by Mario Odekerken
When the ground shakes and the sky breaks,
when the wolves of fear are at your gate,
clench your fists,defy your fate--
roar your name-and carry on.
When blood and sweat have paved your way,
when night consumes the light of day,
stand unbroken in the fray--
raise your sword-and carry on.
......
56. Adversity Anniversaries
by Kea Campbell
Loving had never made me feel so lonely, and living never made me feel so lifeless.
Patience was scarce and I was desperate for rest, and the only peace I found was in romanticizing my death.
Hate was addictive, but only towards myself, because I bought into the beauty standards that society sells.
At 10 I didn't know that it was rape and not love, because I believed what he told me until he hurt me for fun.
12 and I hoped that my heart surgery would fail, because at least it'd get me out of writing fair wells.
14 and I wondered “What if infanticide would have won?” or “What if my parents had never given me up?”
16 and my wrists were an escape from the numb, and the only things I believed in were my sports and bulimia.
18 and my stories grew older and untold, because no one had time to be friends with broken souls.
19 and 1 month and I feel most alive; now I know how to live, and not just survive.
......
