Self-love Poems

Popular Self-love Poems

body

by Sarah A

i forgive my body

for all that she’s done

i free him from his sins

and nestle in her safety

i thank my body for protecting me

......

Life’s flown around me
Like an abandoned forest trail
The serene calmness and a burning desire
A trail that is both, Ice and Fire
Teeming with life and devoid of touch
The joyous energy of meditation
And an anxiety, too much
The morning chirps
The calm rays
The creepy webs

......

Leaving eighteen

by Zainab Noor

Leaving eighteen
What is wrong with me?
Every single night before I close my eyes
This question plays in my head on repeat
I know I'll never be able to answer
This question
Because I don't know what is wrong with me...
I don't think there is anything wrong with me

I'm just drowning in a pool of self hate

......

Pearl Of The Night

by Shreeja Banerjee

A maiden gazed upon the glass,
A vision of herself, alas.
Her eyes, like diamonds, sparkled bright,
Reflecting back a wondrous sight.
Her tears, like pearls, began to fall,
A precious sight, both grand and small.
Her beauty shone, a moon above,
A pearl of night, a symbol of love.
Why, maiden, art thou so unkind,
To judge thyself, so harsh of mind?

......

Conversation with the cosmos

by Daniel Ryan Cotler

Beneath the quilt of starlit thread,
Across the skies where comets bled,
I drifted far beyond the blue,
To speak with all the universe knew.

I sat upon a silver ring,
Where Saturn’s whispers softly sing,
And cried aloud to endless night:
"Is there love for me in this life?"

......

Recent Self-love Poems

Seeing me

by Aditi Hayaran

I saw, a mirror in front.
No lies, no deception—it's blunt.
Whenever I took a deep breath, and stood near,
I see eyes in the mirror.

Joyous sometimes, sometimes gloom,
Pretty-pretty eyes, judging whom?
Of course it's me, being judged by my eyes,
I'm idiotic too, but at the same time I'm wise.

......

Rotten and Hungry

by Mac Schultz

Ever since I was born, I was rotten. I was born out of contempt, made out of hate. It was always going to be this way, and that is fine. I can accept it, even embrace it, I’ll find some way to aestheticize the gasoline in my blood. I feed the poison until it’s all-consuming and surrounds me in a warm blanket of filth and flesh.

I don’t want to lose it, because I don’t know what else there is. There isn’t much else for me.

I lack creativity and natural talent. A more accurate description is that I lack the words to describe the vivid feeling in my chest. The way my head throbs every day, trying to break out of its bony constraints and slither out of me because I swear there’s something meaningful in there.

So I can find comfort in the rot, in knowing that it must be worth something. It has to be, because I cannot accept that I just feel everything far too deeply and intensely until there’s nothing to feel at all.

I cannot even accept mundane kindness. I react to it like a vulture, pecking at it until I’ve taken all there is, harbouring and hunting the remnants because I just cannot trust it. I react with suspicion and - because I refuse to show that I’m afraid - my fear turns into anger.

......

Conversation with the cosmos

by Daniel Ryan Cotler

Distant Whisper

by Nad Sof

I searched for love in distant eyes,
In empty words, in fleeting skies.
But silence whispered, soft and clear—
The love you seek is always near.

I held the pain, the dark, the light,
And in that space, I found my sight.
No need for others to complete,
I am my own, whole and sweet.

The Monster

by bella fish

My breathing hitched and my heart sped up. This object shows me a monster, one which I do not wish to see. The monster the object shows me, growled a low rumble, like it was speaking to me. I see the many scars and blemishes on the monster, all of it's flaws. I look again, but I see something different, in their eyes. Anger, guilt, hurt, betrayal, sadness, self-loathing. For once, I feel bad for the monster and it's flaws. They actually seem sorta sweet, and ever so friendly. I get mad at the object for convincing me to think so low of the monster. I curse and punch the object out of frustration. The mirror shatters.