Activity

  • Samantha Anthony shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 2 weeks, 5 days ago

    The Feelings of Life Around The Environment

    Life is like walking on a bridge; it can crumble and break when the energy is off. Twists and turns will appear along the way. When you find yourself in a tough spot, breathing becomes harder when there’s nowhere to run. The mind and balance can only handle so much, and if you’re alone, there’s no escape. How can one person sort everything out and stay alive?

    Samantha Anthony

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    • Hey Samantha, I am so sorry you are going through a hard time. Check out https://988lifeline.org/ or text or call 988. They are a free crisis hotline if you ever need. Sending hugs. <3 Lauren

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      • I felt this in my soul. I am in this space right now. Like I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s a weird reality I love in now. I don’t wish for death. It’s just life be living and man it got hands. Lol. I’m so glad you can write it out. I know that helps me a lot. Also, I can be a sounding board for whatever bc I could…read more

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  • Samantha Anthony shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 2 weeks, 5 days ago

    A Revelation Looking for Answers

    A woman without her chariot has lost all hope and ponders. She sighs, thinking, “How much more can the atmosphere around me crumble?” In the lost cage that was her home, she counted the days and waited patiently for some light to appear.

    Samantha Anthony

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  • michae1 shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 3 weeks, 6 days ago

    Miraculous

    Vibrant with excitement,
    Smiles that brighten
    The evening, like the sun.
    Once it creeps into the horizon.
    Having an amazing night
    & waking up to a beautiful morning.
    Sky gazing, watching the
    Clouds forming and dissipating.
    I’m looking at A masterpiece,
    from God’s Creations,
    like it was the stroke
    From the wrist. I’m feeling
    Blessed to witness this image.
    My eyes Constructing art,
    With images from the
    The mind. Working with imagination,
    Creating & Living through these illusions.
    Miraculously mirrored images from within.

    Michael L George jr

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    • Aww Michael, I love how present you are able to , how you are able to appreciate, lean in and take in the world around you. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed. <3 Lauren

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  • kiki pape shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months ago

    Memory on the Menu By Kiki Pape

    i invited an old friend for coffee today
    i was about fifteen minutes late
    and
    she was about twenty
    i called her up, but she forgot to answer
    she told me she was practicing a YouTube tutorial
    that she will never post
    her skin was fresh and bare
    picked raw at the sight
    bulls eye across her forehead
    what is plain to see for change and a face wash
    taking a sip of my black coffee
    and her frappuccino
    I offered her my half-eaten coffee cake
    she pushed it away and typed in her calories
    she tells me she would never inhale
    and sip the poison of pressure
    i say more like pleasure
    we looked at similarly colored eyes
    we both sat in silence
    she glances down at her phone to see that plans fell through again
    with foes guarded by tight pants
    she’ll have people to tell her stories about
    if her cards play out right
    i almost recognize her from the tiny jewelry box dancer
    twirling delusion
    she assures me that she is too wild, and friends will take another course
    i hope she always dances
    I’m envious of the girl sitting in front of me
    both are sipping from an overpriced cup of coffee
    the colors are brighter through her eyes
    music seemed light until the music died
    i’m only twenty-two
    and she is only thirteen

    Kiki Pape

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  • Starr Evans shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months ago

    Where I Am

    There was a dream I saw you in,
    Telling me to be cool, don’t let the devil win .
    Where I am I’m good, you can let me go.
    Where I am it’s peace, something we din’t know.
    Where I am, I’m not confused or mad anymore.
    Where I am, they can’t hate me for being great…. You know?
    Where I am, I eat good like we do on a Thursdaynight.
    I wish you could be here with me but you have to keep fighting your fight.
    You have to keep going for all those babies who need you in their life.
    You have to stay strong to keep our parents together through this flight.
    Patience is what you’ll need to grow.
    Your biggest flaw is not listening and since I have to say it again this shows,
    Where I am, I’m good big sis, you can let me go.

    Starr ‘ Christine

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  • Noirerequiem shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months ago

    For Every Mama

    “For Every Mama”

    I ain’t forgot the hands that held me,
    Through storm clouds, broke nights, and empty bellies.
    To the woman who birthed me, through pain and pride,
    You gave me life, even when the world ain’t give you a guide.

    And to the mamas who stepped in when mine couldn’t stand—
    You ain’t share my blood, but you reached out your hand.
    You fed me truth, served strength with no disguise,
    Taught me how to rise, even when hope dies.

    To the aunties, godmamas, them sisters who saw me—
    Who showed up when the world tried to flaw me.
    You ain’t need a title, you just showed love,
    Taught me faith, how to fight, how to rise above.

    Whether you nursed me, raised me, or prayed from afar,
    You left fingerprints on the map of who I are.
    So this for you—the tired, the tender, the tough—
    Who gave when it hurt, who loved me enough.

    You are the rhythm in the song of my name,
    The calm in my chaos, the light in my flame.
    I carry your lessons in everything I do—
    This ain’t just Mother’s Day, every day’s for you.

    IMAGE: MY MOM IN THE MIDDLE. MY AUNT ON THE LEFT AND ME ON THE RIGHT

    NoireRequiem

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  • Heather shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 1 weeks ago

    Wounded

    This wound that I have within
    Is one that only makes sense to me
    This wound may or may not be fixed
    And if it is
    I can’t tell you when
    I can tell you
    It was given to me
    As a kid
    I of course did not know of such
    So all I did was push it off
    Years would go by
    Days even slipped by
    Until one day
    I got hit like a drive by
    Hit with words
    Hit with reality
    Hit with heaviness that ended up
    Opening that old unsure wound
    The mother wound

    Heather

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  • Oswald Perez shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 1 weeks ago

    Happy Mother's Day!

    Dear Unsealers,

    It’s the second Sunday in May.

    For a good part of the world, it’s Mother’s Day.

    This day can bring up all sorts of emotions. From joy, to sadness and longing. It’s okay to feel all the emotions.

    I want to wish my mom, Lauren’s mom and all the mom’s in The Unsealed, a Happy Mother’s Day! I hope it’s a good day.

    And now, for a poem marking the day:

    On the second Sunday of May
    We honor all of the mothers

    Mothers-to-be, grandmothers. My friends who are moms.
    Aunts, stepmothers, new moms, and pet moms
    All motherly figures. Mi mamá

    With all the love and grace
    For those who have difficulty celebrating this day
    And the mothers who are no longer with us

    As mothers are the backbone
    Of our lives and the world itself

    I wouldn’t be who I am if not for my mom
    Tenacious, spirited, and kind
    I can’t be grateful enough for her

    Mothers need to be honored.
    On this day, and every day

    From me to you, from NYC to the world…
    Happy Mother’s Day!

    Oswald Perez

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  • Heather shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 1 weeks ago

    Side Effects To Healing

    Its the glow that speaks to me.
    There was a time this woman
    Did not know what that glow was.
    Never spoke of such.
    Dark clouds.
    Black self esteem.
    Sabotaging dreams.
    Those consumed her days.
    Her soul.
    Her heart.
    This glow that now radiates
    Over her body puts the mind at ease.
    The body at rest.
    The heart in safe mode.
    Glowing heart.
    Radiating mind.
    Healthy body.
    All for the little girl
    Who did not know what that glow was.

    Heather

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  • Rose Eldridge shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 1 weeks ago

    Scatter Brained

    I shape, I form, I break.

    I learn that the colors I show

    need to be changed.

    My habits need rearranged.

    I mold, I bend, I snap.

    All this pressure makes me restless, I think

    I need a nap.

    I crush under the rock of self hatred I’ve made.

    But look at all I’ve gained….

    It’s not enough, I need more

    I need to be more

    Do more

    Pile high

    And higher

    And even higher

    Until

    And once again, I fade into the darkness.

    I may never come out of this emptiness.

    Everything feels so impossible today.

    And just like it was never there, you look at me and it all fades away.

    Rose Eldridge

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  • Heather shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 1 weeks ago

    Breadcrumbs

    She’s not a duck
    Stop feeding her breadcrumbs.
    Give her the food she deserves.
    Connection. Communication.
    Give her the snacks she craves.
    Honesty. Respect. Love.
    Give her the desserts she fantasizes.
    Intimacy. Intelligence. Stability.
    She’s a one in a million soul
    With so much potential.
    So much aspiration.
    So much love.
    If only you weren’t addicted to carbs!

    Heather

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  • Haley Felt shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 1 weeks ago

    A Softness in You

    In the quiet of the world, I never sought,
    But found a softness in you, like a tender thought.

    Not in the making, not in the plan—
    But in the way you hold me, just as I am.
    Like a warm blanket, a gentle embrace,
    Where time slows down and hearts find their pace.

    Not a house to build, but a feeling to keep,
    In the quiet of your love, I fall deep.
    It’s the brush of a cheek, the softest kiss,
    A quiet promise of eternal bliss.
    With every touch, I am made whole,
    You are the home that fills my soul.
    In you, I’ve found a place to rest,
    A love that swaddles me— even when it’s not at it’s best.

    Not a journey of seeking, but falling true,
    I have found softness in you.

    In the warmth of a love that’s tender and kind.
    Together we’ve found, not a place, but a way—
    A soft, sweet home, where I hope to always stay.

    Haley Marie Felt

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  • Haley Felt shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 1 weeks ago

    Unwelcome Guests

    Invite the unsavory versions of you to
    the table, angry, bitter, resentful; pour
    them tea and settle their queries.

    Give each of them grace, they did what
    they could with what they knew.

    & now that you know what you do, no
    longer invite those women to the table;
    they no longer serve you.

    Haley Marie Felt

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  • Haley Felt shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 1 weeks ago

    Rapacious

    I have shared all of my parts with you
    I have disassembled myself
    Piece by piece
    My unity, compassion, empathy, sympathy
    My sanity
    All harvested for your amour propre

    I thank you for releasing me
    I would have followed you to hell
    And yet —
    Without sharing my best parts of me with you
    I suddenly feel so alive

    Haley Marie Felt

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  • michae1 shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 2 weeks ago

    Beautiful

    Do everything you
    Feel like is gonna be,
    A good time.
    Take a chance, don’t worry
    About what’s About
    To happen next.
    Ride the vibe
    Chill through the day
    Wild’N at night.
    Be~U~Til~Full
    Because we’re all
    BEAUTIFUL!

    Michael L George jr

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  • Heather shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 2 weeks ago

    Backyard Swing

    As I sit on this backyard swing feeling the satisfying Arizona Spring breeze on my face,
    I’m confronted by the little girl who loved swings.
    Found joy from the schools swings.
    Who found safety from the big brown wooden swing at her grandmother’s.
    I’m confronted by the little girl
    who wished for clarity
    while pumping her little feet as fast as she could.
    Who wished for love
    while gripping the metal handles tightly.
    Leaving her tiny palms as red as a tomato.
    Who yearned for acceptance
    while matching the speed from the other swings.

    As I sit on this backyard swing,
    I let that little girl know
    It’s okay to feel every emotion
    While pumping those tiny feet.
    While gripping the handlebars so tightly.
    While racing for the acceptance from that next swing over.
    It’s okay!
    I also let her know
    she’s okay to let that tight grip go.
    I let her know
    She doesn’t have to have to pump fast anymore.
    I got her.
    I let her know
    she’s finally accepted by the one person
    Who will never let her go.

    As I sit on this backyard swing,
    I’m no longer confronted by the little girl
    Yet, confronted with peace.
    With understanding.
    With love.
    I’m confronted with the best version of myself!

    Heather

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  • Heather shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 2 weeks ago

    Impossible Questions

    As a child, we crave small talk.
    Let’s us be heard for a brief moment.
    Until we’re quickly silenced by,
    “Go find something to do.”

    As an adult, we crave deep conversations.
    Small talk annoys us.
    We want to know one another on a deeper level.
    Time is a valuable thing.
    Small talk takes too much of it.

    As a child, we ask the most silliest childish questions.
    “Why’s the sky blue?”

    As adults, we ask the impossible questions.
    The cut throat get to know you on a deeper more intimate level questions.
    “What has been your most humbling experience?”

    As children, we crave small talk.
    Adults, we want the impossible.

    Heather

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  • Heather shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 2 weeks ago

    Her Hero

    The young lil girl who fought to wear glasses
    Yet loved to help put the butter
    In the mixing bowl for those chocolate chip cookies, wrote a book.
    The young lil girls hero wrote a book.

    * 3 word prompt: Book. Butter. Glasses. *

    Heather

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  • Liz Einsele shared a letter in the Group logo of ParentingParenting group 1 months, 2 weeks ago

    The Days Are Long But The Years Are Short

    The days are long, but the years are short; I think that is the best phrase I can think of to sum up my experience raising my children. If I think about those words too much, it will stir up powerful emotions in me and bring tears to my eyes. As a mom of four children, an eleven-year-old son and three daughters ages 8-years-old, 3 years old, and 5–months old, I know how busy daily life can get. I know how long the days can feel, but I also know how quickly each year passes and how fast kids grow.

    My days are so busy from the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep, and even when I take a break, my mind races through every unfinished task on my to-do list. My days go something like this: wake up, get myself and 4 kids ready. After the chaos of the morning routine, I drop my two older kids off at school, hopefully on time. Then, after the short drive home, I juggle housework and office work with entertaining and caring for my two younger children. The hours fly by and before I know it, it’s time to pick up my two older kids from school. Most weekdays we have an hour or two before one of my kids has soccer or tumbling practice. After feeding the kids, we rush to get ready and head to practice. After practice, we head home to cook dinner unless I decide to pick it up because the last thing I want to do is cook and clean up. Homework and bedtime follow dinner unless we are lucky enough to have time to play a game or watch tv before bed. Once everyone else is asleep, I spend a few hours cleaning, doing laundry, and any tasks I can accomplish before I give up and go to bed. After a few brief hours, the alarm will go off, and it will be time to repeat everything.

    When life gets busy like this, each day feels so long and overwhelming, but the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months, and the year passes so quickly. Then something, usually something small, will remind me how fast time has passed. My most recent reminder was a newborn onesie. I was sorting through my baby’s clothes and putting away the ones she has outgrown. As I held a tiny newborn onesie in my hand, the memories and emotions flooded my mind, and I cried. I remember going to buy more newborn outfits because the 0-3 size ones were too big. I remember how tiny she was. I remember those newborn cuddles, and how special those first weeks were just like with her siblings. What I don’t remember is how it’s already been 5 months. I don’t remember when she grew out of newborn clothes and diapers; I don’t remember the last time I held my newborn before she outgrew that sleepy cuddling phase, and I don’t remember the last time she wore this onesie. As I put away those tiny clothes I cry, I cry because it’s emotional watching your kids grow, experiencing all their firsts and all their lasts. When I add her clothes to the bin of baby clothes in my shed, I see baby clothes from each of my other three kids. I see the sleeper my son wore home from the hospital, my eight-year-old’s first tiny outfit, and my three-year-old’s tiny newborn hat. I hold onto outfits that I vividly remember buying for each of them. I remember distinct moments they wore each outfit in the bin, and I can tell which child each item belonged to. When I look at the tiny sleepers, I can still picture my kids wearing them as babies while I held them and they slept in my arms.

    I can’t control the memories and emotions flooding my mind and weighing on my heart. Memories of sending my son to preschool seem like they were last year, but next year he starts middle school. What seems to be a short time ago, I remember my 8-year-old daughter was learning to walk and now she has mastered walkovers in tumbling. I remember my 3-year-old daughter learning to talk and now she can have a full conversation with you. I have been through this realization before, and it is emotional for me every time. Life gets busy and I don’t take the time to realize how fast they are growing until something little reminds me. Something like a newborn onesie reminds me to take time to enjoy every moment I can with my kids and make lots of memories because they will never be this small again. As I wipe my tears and put away the baby clothes, I’m reminded of how fast kids grow. And I tell myself to remember this important lesson. The days are long, but the years are short; Embrace the chaos of motherhood because one day soon you will miss all of this.

    Liz Einsele

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    • Awww Liz, this is such a beautiful and authentic description of motherhood. You are clearly a dedicated, loving and thoughtful mother and your little ones are so lucky to have you.

      This story reminds me a little of my mom. When she sold the house we grew up in, she sold a lot of the furniture too. Every time she sold something, she cried. The…read more

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      • Awe. I totally understand that, it’s amazing the memories and emotions that objects can spark in us. Thank you for your kind words, I really appreciate them. My kids are my world and being a mom is almost my identity at this point. That’s why I joined this and started writing to find something for me outside of being a mom but so far everything I…read more

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      • Also I cried so many times writing this. Everytime I re-read it, I cried. You are right watching your babies grow is so emotional and beautiful. -Liz

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  • TaMara E'Lan G. shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 1 months, 2 weeks ago

    Nomad Of Love

    “Who are you?” A voice asked.
    I broke from my trance, aware of the soothing warmth of the ceramic mug, the chatter of voices, and the feel of eyes upon me. Qiyamah.
    He smiled, repeating himself slowly.
    “Who are you?”
    Who am I? For that brief moment I knew

    I am a nomad of love
    Wandering through deserts of despair
    Camping in oasis that fade away
    Hunting on land full of swift souls
    And still I forge on.
    I am a warrior of love
    Planning the best defense to protect
    My heart standing knee deep in false hope
    Fighting for a prize I have yet to find
    And still I solider on.
    I am an artist of love
    Molding my burning desires into shapes
    Writing a song that dares to be sung
    Painting a picture only I can see
    And still I dream on.
    I am a believer of love
    Preaching on theories that have no validity
    Teaching a vision of both folk and faith
    Praying for something I know must be
    And always I move on.
    Onward to the final destination.
    That I know, that I feel, that I need –
    love.

    But instead I smiled and said,
    “I am a very…simple woman.”

    *Nomad of Love ©️ 2004 TaMara E’Lan G.
    **Excerpt from
    Timeless: Through the Eyes of a Poet by TaMara E’Lan G. ©️ 2018

    TaMara E'Lan G.

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    • This is so powerful and beautiful and bold. I love your creativity, your voice and your spirit. Keep shining.Keep being you. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of the Unsealed.<3 Lauren

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      • Thank you Lauren 😊 Thank you for creating such a safe, loving and nurturing space for us. May The Most High continue to bless your endeavors in all you do ❤️🙏🏾✨️

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