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The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoKindlin's Law
Kristopher HaeberlinChaos has a language. It speaks in scattered thoughts,
racing heartbeats, and dreams that unravel by morning.
You feel it before you name it—
a weight behind the eyes,
a knot where clarity should be.
But the moment you pick up the pen,
something ancient stirs.
A primal magic in ink,
the kind that bridges storm to stillness.You write the mess.
You spell out the wound.
You stop pretending the fire is manageable
and you draw the flames with honest hands.
Suddenly, you see it.
It has a name. A shape. A boundary.
What once was an unknowable shadow
becomes a charted storm—
still fierce, but no longer infinite.You were not falling apart.
You were simply too full.
And the act of writing—
it is how you make space again.
Each sentence is a blade.
Every period, a pause to breathe.
You dissect the chaos
not to kill it,
but to understand it.A problem on paper is no longer the beast in your brain.
It is half-tamed—
a creature seen and labeled.
And that is no small victory.
That is how healing begins.When you make the intangible visible,
you strip it of its tyranny.
And what was once unspeakable
becomes a line in your story—
one you now control.Do not underestimate the miracle
of seeing yourself on the page.
You are not broken,
just burdened.
And in the light of your own truth,
the darkness begins to lose its grip.So write.
Not because it solves everything,
but because it solves something.
Enough to move. Enough to breathe.
Enough to remember:
You are not what you carry.
You are the one who names it,
faces it,
and lets it go. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoMurphy's Law
Kristopher HaeberlinThe fear begins as a whisper—soft, almost kind.
A flicker in the shadows of thought,
a ghost of what could go wrong.
But you look. You listen. You feed it.
And fear, once invited, grows fangs.
You cradle catastrophe in your mind
until it sleeps beside your dreams
and wakes before your coffee.The more you dread,
the more it becomes a self-fulfilling spell,
cast by trembling hands
and minds too haunted to see
that the thing we run from
is often drawn closer
by the thundering echo of our retreat.You feared they’d leave—
so your anxious questions pushed them to the door.
You feared the fall—
and in bracing, you slipped.
You feared silence—
and your panic spoke loud enough to echo.The universe listens not with judgment,
but with obedience.
And it moves
in the direction of your gaze.Fear is a script you recite so often
that life begins to follow its stage directions.
It becomes the blueprint of breakdowns.
And once you expect disaster,
you live rehearsing it—
repeating lines that summon storms,
as if rain was your destiny.But it’s not.
You are not cursed.
You are not doomed.
You are simply powerful—
and that power bends to belief.
So shift it.
Breathe life into faith, not fear.
Envision calm, not collapse.
See love arriving, not leaving.
See doors opening instead of locking.Because when you choose to feed hope
with the same hunger you once gave anxiety,
the world responds.
The winds turn.
And suddenly, the monsters
become mist.
The worst-case no longer rules your mind.
And the life you feared
stops knocking
because you finally stopped answering.Fear only wins
when you crown it king. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoThe Weight of Light
Kristopher HaeberlinThey told me I was born of stardust—
a soft echo spun from cosmic ash,
but no one warned me that even stardust
can be stepped on, swept up,
or forgotten beneath someone’s shoes.I’ve been trying to shine in places
that worship shadows.
Kissed wounds into people who only
brought me their swords.
Let my chest be an altar for the broken,
but no one stayed long enough to pray.
Still, I gave—
my time, my truth, my trembling hands—
as if love were currency
and I could pay off loneliness
with interest.But I am not debt.
I am not what they abandoned.
I am the sunrise stubborn enough
to come back every morning,
even when the world sleeps through my arrival.
I am the quiet resilience of oceans
pulling tides into rhythm
with a moon that never speaks.I’ve learned the universe doesn’t apologize
for burning stars into oblivion—
it just makes room for new constellations.
And maybe I’m not meant to be
understood by everyone.
Maybe I’m here
to remind the forgotten
that they were never invisible.So if you are reading this—
gripping your soul in clenched fists,
carrying the kind of grief
that leaks when no one’s watching—
know this:You are not the wound.
You are the healing.
You are not lost.
You are the map someone else needs.
You are not too much.
You are the weight of light—
and that’s why they couldn’t hold you. -
Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoA Welcome To Spring
Oswald PerezDear Unsealers:
At the time of writing, there’s less than ten minutes before the vernal equinox. Winter comes to a close.
The first grass grows, the days get longer.
It’s the time of year where come back inside from lunch will be difficult.
I feel a sense of possibility in the air.
With that, a welcome to the new season:
When the first grass grows
It’s the surest sign of time
Rising up from the groundThe seasons are changing
With winter’s icy grip retreating
Spring has finally arrivedA time where everything’s in bloom
Trees, grass and flowers tooUnder equal hours of day and night
The world comes alive againThe new season will unfold in ninety two days
Possibility is in the airAs the next part of the year begins
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Aww Oswald, I love how your poems set the tone for the time of year. It really allows me and reminds me to take a moment to be present. Your poems always put me in the moment, which is so important in life. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed. I am going to feature your piece in our newsletter today. <3 Lauren
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Martha Moore shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoJudgment Day
Martha MooreThe crowd gathered round as you rode in on your high horse. We watched as you took your seat on the highest pedestal. As you looked down on those of us on the ground, you decided we were simple fools and peasants. Nothing of your stature. You straightened up and sat tall announcing that the time had come for you to pass judgement. We bowed our heads shamefully, for you told us we aren’t worth a name. Because we are all human garbage, we can be classed as a stereotype. You won’t allow our eyes to meet your gaze, we are too unworthy to be socially accepted by you. “Wasted space,” is what you say, “the world has no place for your kind.” You tell us we are simple minded, useless, and no good. We should never be allowed to associate with your graces. We have not earned the right to stand where you have stood. You mock us and laugh in our faces. We are merely entertainment for someone like you. You have ruled that we are not fit to be among the class of high society and pound your gavel to finalize the sentencing. We watch as you sit back, pleased with yourself and all your wondrous accomplishments. But as we stand together here on the ground, we dance and laugh and live freely. We are proud not to have to sit on a throne or bare the crown of perfection. We embrace our simple lives full of love and joy. For we know: we may have a long, treacherous journey to the top but we have no other way to look but up. As for you, sat way up high, there is nowhere left to go. Only down. Even the greatest kings and queens could never defeat gravity.
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoBeannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh!
Dear Unsealers:
It’s the seventeenth day of March.
So the adage goes, we’re all a little bit Irish today. With that in mind, I hope that everyone has a wonderful St. Patrick’s Day with all the luck.
As I’ve done since 2021, I’ve written my own Irish blessing, and it goes like this…
On this, the 17th day of March
A blessing from me to youMay the sun shine upon you
Blue skies above, green grass belowRainbows to appear when you’re near
A life lived joyfully, without many tearsFor your troubles to be less
The craic always kept in good cheerAll the shamrocks bringing luck
With the warmth of Eire’s heart, soulThere’s one more thing to say
To everyone on the Emerald Isle…Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh-
Oswald, I’ve always loved the fun and celebratory spirit of St. Patrick’s Day. After all, who doesn’t want to feel a little luckier than usual? I love how your poem captures the positive and uplifting nature of the holiday and also pays homage to the Irish. Thank you for sharing!
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Heather shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoMood: Nostalgic
HeatherCan we go back to playing barbies on the bedroom floor?
Playing baby dolls on rainy days?
Or to those Saturday mornings of cartoons & a big bowl of Fruit Loops cereal?
Can we go back to those summer days of frozen Capri Suns, popsicles, & all day swim sessions?
Or to those skid knees from falling off bikes.
Falling down from rollerblading.
Can we go back to late night sleepovers at grandma’s house?
Or those next morning wake up calls of fresh pancakes consuming grandma’s house.
Can we go back to playing videos games all night?
Playing the game tag all day outside?
Can we go back to a time when it wasn’t rushing us to grow old?
When time was less of our worries.
Or to those summer days of riding bikes in dust storms feeling powerful?
Can we go back to a time when feeling free was all we knew?-
Heather, this takes me back to my childhood. My younger sister and I spent long summer days outside feeling as if they would never end. When we are children, we usually don’t realize the beauty of a life without adult responsibility. I’d love to go back too! Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
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Heather, I so feel all of this, and these thoughts enter my head every now and then. Childhood was so magical and I never knew life would be so different when I grew up. Maybe it doesn’t have to be? Thank you for sharing. I am going to feature this piece in our newsletter today. <3 Lauren
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Thank you for this! & thank you for sharing in the newsletter. Means so much to not just me but to my internal human who finds such zen in writing. She FINALLY feels heard. Her words are FINALLY being seen in a community that she’s searched for so long. Thank you!!
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Martha Moore shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoOn My Mind... Again
Martha C MooreI sit down to write
You’re on my mind again
But this is nothing new
By now I’m used to itSometimes it’s all consuming
Other times, fleeting thoughts
Either way it hits me
I’m left feeling lostI ache to my core for you
Miss every moment we never shared
I need you to know I love you
And that I’ll always careI’ll never forget you
My soul knows something is missing
My brain tries to rationalize it
But my heart is never listening-
Martha, missing someone who is no longer a part of our life leaves us feeling bereft and unmoored. No matter how irrational we know our feelings may be, it doesn’t stop them from consuming us. Whether we choose to listen to our hearts or our minds, these feelings do not often dissipate as quickly as we’d like. Thank you for sharing this moving poem!
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Thank you for taking the time to read it. I appreciate it so much.
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Martha, This is so beautiful and so relatable. I totally know what it’s like to miss someone you love and feel it in the vibration of your heart. I am going to feature this poem in our newsletter today. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed. Sending hugs. <3 Lauren
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Thank you for the support and encouragement. It is truly and deeply appreciated.
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Liz shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks agoInternational Women's Day 2025
Oswald PerezDear Unsealers,
It’s the eighth day of March.
A Happy International Women’s Day to all the women of the world. From my mom, my sister, all of my female friends and relatives. And to all the women in The Unsealed.
In honor of your strength, kindness and tenacity, comes this poem…
On International Women’s Day 2025
A salute to all the women
Family, relatives, friends and acquaintances
In every corner of the worldMay they keep making this world a better place
Bringing their light, tenacity and strength
Into these trying days and nightsMay we learn from their compassion
Their willingness to stick up for what’s rightI wouldn’t be the person I am
Kind, compassionate and fierce
If not for my mom and sister
The two most important women in my lifeHere’s to the women of the world
Celebrated on this 8th day of MarchAnd every single day of the year!
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Oswald, this poem is such a sweet tribute to the women you’ve encountered. It is obvious, based on your kindness and compassion, that some top tier ladies have influenced you! As a woman, your words mean a lot to me even though I do not know you personally. Thank you for supporting and uplifting the women in your life and for sharing your lovely poetry!
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michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks ago2 Fingers Up
Michael L George jrSelf reflecting with two
fingers up. Projecting peace,
A double entendre.
Happy, with a joyful smile
Showing my teeth.
With the acception of
A Farwell to the past versions of me.-
Michael, this poem makes me think that you are feeling confident and excited about life. I love that you are “projecting peace” with your two fingers up and smiling with your teeth. I hope that you are able to continue living your truth! Thank you for sharing.
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 2 weeks agoMarch On!
Oswald PerezDear Unsealers,
It’s the first day of March.January took a century to go by. February passed through quickly.
March is a month of transition.As the clocks will turn ahead an hour in a week. More daylight on the commute home from work.
The countdown to Easter begins. The Lenten season begins on Ash Wednesday.A month that honors women, and brings cerebral palsy to the forefront. And a moment marking five years since the world as we knew it was upended.
March is a month when the seasons begin to change. It begins in the last days of winter and comes to a close at the start of spring.
All in thirty-one days.
As with every month, a welcome in verse:
March
Month number three, in 2025The month comes in like a lion
As winter’s chill and hints of spring trade daysThirty-one days lie ahead.
A season of transitionFrom clocks moving ahead
Equal hours of night and dayA month of solemnity
The countdown to Easter begins.It’s also Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month.
And five years since the AwakeningThe month goes out like a lamb
As the first blooms arrive-
Oswald, I love how you always usher in a new month with hopeful anticipation! March feels like a month of transition to me as well. As winter fades away and spring begins to show its colors, we feel a sense of possibility….unless we are talking about five years ago when March stood for something completely different. Thank you for sharing this piece!
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michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 3 weeks agoEmotional Creatures
Michael L George jrSome of us worry about
“Certain features”,
We go through “desperate measures”.
To provide some type of pleasure.
We’re Constantly under pressure,
Fighting with gravity.
We are searching and looking
Browsing at eye candy,
Looks are appealing, but
To get a taste.
You might Unwrap other
Feelings!
Revealing the mind is
So divine,
Sometimes it’s quiet and unspoken,
Then sometimes it’s loud!
When it’s provoken,
Soo, maybe….it’s better to
Leave it unopened.
The power of emotions, blows up!
Some atomic fluids flowing. Now,
We’re chemically influenced.-
Michael, I love how you explain the complexity of emotions we encounter as humans each day. Our emotions have the power to influence us in a variety of ways and in many cases, we are unable to control them. It is so interesting that we have such little power against something that is so prevalent in our lives. Thank you for sharing this poem!
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Anita Williams shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 3 weeks ago"Becoming Whole"
Anita A WilliamsLately, I’ve been searching deep,
through silent nights and wounds that weep.
Reflecting on the path I’ve known,
the love I gave, yet stood alone.This season of stillness, a destined pause,
life unfolding by divine laws.
Losing, healing, standing still,
learning that time bends to God’s will.I’ve poured my soul into the hands of others,
lifted friends, lovers, sisters, brothers.
But now, I turn that love within,
where healing starts, where I begin.No longer chasing, forcing, pleading,
just trusting life, trusting its meaning.
For what is mine will never stray,
it will find me in its own way.Yes, I want love, but love is not a cure,
not a place where wounds endure.
No one should fix what they didn’t break,
love should build, not bend till it aches.I seek a bond where spirits grow,
not a place where burdens show.
A hand to hold, not one to mend,
a partner first, a lover, a friend.So I stand in truth, in light, in grace,
embracing healing, finding my space.
Celibate, patient, guarding my soul,
waiting for love that makes me whole.No more weight upon my chest,
no more giving till there’s nothing left.
Love is balance, love is free,
love will meet me when it’s meant to be.And when it does, I will not chase,
I will not question time or place.
For love aligned, by fate, by call,
needs no force—it simply falls.-
Anita, this kind of love is what everyone deserves in their lives. I’m so glad that you’ve realized you are worth so much more than the one-sided love you’ve given others in the past. You are right that love that is meant to be “simply falls” into place without the need for force. I hope that you find it soon! Thank you for sharing this piece.
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Blue Sky shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 3 weeks ago404 Not Found
404 not found
My long search came up empty
Looking for the oneAfter the divorce
Never thought I’d try to look
Then I hit refreshFound a rabbit hole
I decided to jump in
To see what I’d findEww, what a cesspool
What does it say about me
That I am in it?And then in the end
Disorganized attachment
Bit me in the assThen, I decided
I’d try therapy instead
To get over her404 not found
Entered the wrong URL
BetterHelp.comNot Bumble.com
Would have been more suitable
For my broken heart-
I love this poem. I feel like many of us feel like the best response to heartbreak is to move on to someone else. Sometimes, it can even make things easier. Other times, it just highlights how broken we really are. It is better to work through your feelings in healthier ways. Thank you for sharing your experience!
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Timesha Crosson shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 3 weeks agoMessage To You
Timesha CrossonI ain’t playing no games
Everytime I wait for a message
I get a little sad because I’m wasting my time
You’re dangerous running through my mind
I should let you go but I can’t
I try and try and I try
You’re wishing for me to be near you
You plan to reach out to me
Picking the phone up and then putting it down
Afraid of what I would say to you
Here’s what I would say:
You played an important role in our young life
You didn’t really realize that I was sad and in pain
I was more concerned making sure you were happy
You being happy always lifted my spirits
Talking to you about anything kept my pain away
Being near you made me forget why I was sad in the first place
Even when I was told I wasn’t pretty enough to be with you
I was always coming around
Here what I also wanted to tell you when I reached out:
I’m not even supposed to be here
but it’s getting hard to explain it
You saved and protected me that night
I was supposed to die in the dark woods
Beaten and tortured
Bleeding through the night
My body in enormous pain and giving up
Even though you weren’t there physically
You were just there spiritually
I know I can’t get that back because you hate me
Believe me I hated me too
I went through hell and back
And I refuse to go back
We are different now
Trust me I’m okay now, kind of
Just tell me one thing
Tell me it’s not over-
Timesha, I can see that your heart is hurting based on your words in this poem. Trying to let go of someone you love, whether they are deserving of that love or not, is so difficult. How can we convince our minds to move on when our hearts are still in it? I hope that you find your answer and your happiness. Thank you for sharing!
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TK shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 3 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Noirerequiem shared a letter in the
Poetry group 4 months agoRose Petals Floating on Water
AmbitiousBMarieSoft whispers drift where silence grows,
Petals like dreams in a quiet flow.
Each one, a story, a delicate trace,
Carried by currents in a peaceful embrace.Colors of love, shades of grace,
Gliding with time, no need to race.
Their journey slow, but hearts are light,
Dancing on ripples in the soft moonlight.They don’t ask for more, just to be,
Floating freely, wild and free.
A moment of calm in a world of haste,
A reminder that beauty’s never a waste.As they move, they leave no mark,
But their presence brightens the dark.
Like fleeting thoughts, like dreams we chase,
Rose petals drift, in love’s embrace.-
Marie, this poem beautifully describes the feeling of weightlessness and joy that come with the safety of being loved. I love how you describe the petals as being carried by “a peaceful embrace.” The love is so sweet and gentle that it doesn’t even leave a mark. Thank you for sharing this lovely poem!
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Noirerequiem shared a letter in the
Poetry group 4 months agoUnbroken Ink
AmbitiousBMarieEven when the weight drags heavy,
like chains forged from every doubt,
I lift my pen—
not because the storm has passed,
but because I refuse to drown in silence.The page don’t judge my shadows,
don’t flinch at my broken breath,
it just waits—patient, open,
like a night sky still believing in stars.I write because I am still here.
Because my ink is proof
that no matter how deep the ache,
there is still a voice inside me,
and it deserves to be heard.-
Marie, you are so right that your voice deserves to be heard! Being a writer means that you feel compelled to get everything down on paper, even if it hurts or weighs on you. There is something beautiful about being able to speak your truth without being judged, though! Thank you for sharing!
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Matthew Jablonsky shared a letter in the
Poetry group 4 months agoValentine's Day
Matthew L Jablonsky“It’s no big deal.”
“It’s just another day.”
That’s what girls think,
or at least, that’s what they say.February 14th,
can come and go.
No need to make a fuss,
or put on a big show.But it doesn’t take much,
to put a smile on her face.
A stuffed animal, a box of chocolates,
and some roses in a vace.A little bit of effort,
goes a really long way.
To show her a piece of the love,
that you feel every day.Life moves so fast,
it can all start to blur.
So take a little time to show,
that you still choose her. ❤️-
Matthew, I absolutely love this poem! I’m sure that she would love you no matter what, but the fact that you take the time to show your lady that you care about her probably impacts her more than you know. You are right that Valentine’s Day is “just another day,” but it is also another opportunity to show her how much you care. Thank you for…read more
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