Bird of Paradise. poem 1 of 4.
First of all thank you for taking the time to read all this corny metaphorical artsy stuff I have taken the time to write. All of the next 4 poems have to do with adolescence and adulthood. A metaphorical viewpoint of birth, growth, and rebirth, like the cocooning of a butterfly lol. I took some time with this; I do not expect everyone (or maybe even anyone) to understand my message or the words I dramatically put together to try and form something good for myself and the audience who reads it. Although, I do hope in some way my art can heal you in similar ways that it has help heal me. I understand at the end of the day and behind closed doors, alone or with close ones, the pain of life leaks through our eyes and thumps through our chest. Life can become a heavy weight on our shoulders, but it is possible to let the weight of the world go. We are all connected in various ways at the end of the day. We all share waking up in the morning and living day by day, dealing with whatever is given. A difficult time may not be now, but it is creeping its way up somewhere. This series of poems are my own words and art graphic designs, as I grow each day, I remember my lessons, always moving forward and never letting words of doubt get to my head Continuously reminding myself everyday, whatever God has for me will never be too big to the point I can not handle. I remind myself that I'll be fine. I hope you all do the same.
Thank you for your time + support, I love you all.
#wegonbealright
*all digital art was designed by me with photos borrowed and taken by me, some photography done by Antonio Brooks,
. . .
She is her own vessel.
Within herself lies the heart of the world.
What ganders the thoughts that weight heavy on her mind?
But, she smiles.
Her own vessel held up high
Through the creases of dried paint, lays water markings that have left her weary.
Wisdom makes the sun-stained body's eye brighten from within.
Planted in her vessel, she is a bird who desires to fly, but still needs time to grow.
Turmoil is her soil, it is her closest friend.
What creation so divine,
it still has not been destroyed by the roots of the ground?
it still has not been destroyed by the roots of the ground?
Grateful is the woman that knows she is in paradise.
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