Letter to Myself #1 (and maybe to you too)

I gave up on my dreams
and allowed the world to 
tell me where I belong.
I'm going to find my 
imagination again and
I'm going to create my
own path.

When I was little my imagination was so big; nothing seemed as if it were impossible.  What happened to me?

I let the troubles in my life stop me from dreaming and I’ve given up.  College may not have been the best experience, but I gained something from it.  I learned how to let people love me and how to make a family out of friends. I gave up on trying to please everyone, or so I thought, but I didn’t learn how to please myself. I never asked myself what would make me happy because I thought people would find it stupid.  That’s all I want though; I just want to be happy and I want the people that I care about to be happy.  Doesn’t everyone?

I’m too early in my story for the ending to be here now and so are you.  This is not what I will do for the rest of my life. I will inspire and I will achieve goals that I have only dreamed of.  They all seem so close, yet still so far. It’s okay though because I have time and I will not give up on trying to create me instead of letting someone else tell me who I should be.

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Missing Pieces of Me

Love is tricky.  We can give someone all of us; everything that we are and they can simply pick up and leave without giving us a second thought.  Once they’re gone it feels as if there is no light left inside of us, only darkness.  The hope that we once had for a lasting love is now gone and everything that we once were belongs to them.  How do we reclaim our light and restore our faith in the idea of a lasting love?  I believe it starts with self.  We were people with ideas, energy and love to share before they walked into our lives, so we must remember these things after they’re gone.  The next time love comes our way we must remember: if it does not nurture us then it is starving us.  Let’s stray away from starvation and find love that gives us the nutrients for a better tomorrow.

 

My Light in the Fog

You slowly appeared from the fog,
Like a lighthouse, 
Upon a darkened shore.
The calm amidst the turbulent waters of my mind,
Something to quiet the waves
As they fiercely rock me back and forth.
You helped me tune out the sirens' song
Filled with words of my own self- doubt 
And my quest for who I really am.
You, still there in the fog, stood tall
And stoic
As if it were your job to show me the way 
To safety; 
To save me from my self.
As I travel closer to the shore,
It seems as if you recede,
Away from me 
And back into the fog.
Now, I am forced to navigate these treacherous waters,
Alone.

-J.S.Atkins

Break Away

I escape my shelter
Take a peak
Spread my wings
And fly away
No more protection
From the cruel world
Off on my own
To fly or fail
The weather will alter
The wind may be harsh
At moments it will be cold
But on I must go
To continue to soar
Is up to me
Nothing ever comes
Very easily
If I should falter
In these skies
I will not stop
Trying to fly
I broke away
I explored the world
I am off on my own
Just my wings and me

 

– J.S.Atkins

Mr. Perfect

To Mr. Perfect who has no flaws

And is steady tossing stones at others’ walls,

Does not realize he is not perfect at all.

To Mr. Perfect who can do no wrong

And is always singing the same old song

Of “woe is me” and “you should do”;

Believes he is different from me and you,

But one day he will see

He is not perfect at all.

To Mr. Perfect who judges most,

Stands up to make a toast

To himself in normal fashion

And says with such passion

That “perfection is the only quality

Bestowed upon him solely”.

Mr. Perfect will soon find out

That perfection is not for man

And that flaws are a part of God’s plan;

So that we will know humility

And be able to take responsibility

For all our actions, evil or kind.

Mr. Perfect is not perfect at all.

One day those walls will fall,

Due to all the stones he’s cast

Trying to make everyone else

Take responsibility for their acts.
– J. S. Atkins

Not a House, But a Home

A home is more than walls and beams,
It is a place created by dreams.

Let your spirit fill every room,
So that sadness can not resume.

May laughter take residence in the walls,
So you can still hear it while walking the halls.

When the outside world seems to fail
Know your home is a place where love prevails.

That's because of you and your beautiful soul
And that's what makes each room glow.

So much so,
The lights seem more bright,
There's a warmth that exist,
And everything just feels right.

You are what makes this home so golden
And you need nothing more;
Each and every visitor feels it,
When they walk through the door.

- J. S. Atkins

I wrote this poem for my friend and placed it in a shadowbox as a housewarming gift.  I really enjoyed creating a poem that was custom to the occasion, as well as the person.  I am hoping that more opportunities to create custom poetry will arise for other occasions because this was beyond amazing and the final product was beautiful.

Make Time

This is for the person who is

Too busy,

Too important,

Or too uninterested.

The moments seem so minuscule

Compared to your daily schedule;

You’ll miss them

Once they have passed

And everyone has moved on.

So stop!

Let people know they are not replaceable,

That you are not too important or busy

And that life simply would not be the same

Without them.

 

Whispers In The Dark

Voices ignored because they are deemed unimportant
are then forced to seek comfort in the dark.
Unfortunately, no louder than a whisper
they speak of their plight.
Tales of strength are dismissed as weak due to the volume
they are told, but I'm listening.
I live for the whispers in the dark and the voices
that usually go unheard.

– J. S. Atkins

Heard

To Whom It May Concern

You have to excuse my confusion 
My space is beyond a mess
My thoughts are all in ruin
And I'm not made for this type of unrest

Please excuse the demolition
I'm usually so put together
But lately something has been missing
Or maybe just a slight change in weather

Just take a look at the ravages 
This was once a beautiful space
These hands have become savages
Now everything must be replaced

Love played havoc with this poor heart
And left it to fend for itself
Now it's a hideous piece of art
That will forever just sit on the shelf


– J. S. Atkins

Devastation