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The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoWilson's Law
Kristopher HaeberlinThey counted coins.
You counted questions.
They chased profit like prey—
you chased truth like prophecy.
And though the world didn’t notice at first,
you knew:
fortune follows those who feed the mind
before the hand.While others raced the clock
trying to beat the system,
you were building one.
One forged in quiet corners,
long nights,
books full of dust and diamonds.
You didn’t hunger for the gold.
You hungered for the why.And with each answer,
you laid bricks beneath your future
while they played hopscotch on sand.
Because money is a moment.
But knowledge—
knowledge is momentum.
A force that compounds
in silence
until the noise can’t ignore it.You didn’t flaunt degrees.
You wore humility
like armor.
You didn’t scream credentials.
You let your results do the whispering.
And soon enough,
the same world that dismissed your hunger
became ravenous for your insights.Money came.
Quietly, respectfully.
Like a servant to its master.
Because when the mind is rich,
the rest must follow.
The paycheck finds the problem-solver.
The opportunities find the thinker.
The throne finds the visionary
who spent years building it
in solitude.So study more.
Ask better questions.
Break what you know
and build it wiser.
Because intellect is the only currency
that survives every crash.They may buy the room,
but you built the foundation.
And in the end,
those who seek wisdom
are the ones who rule. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoGilbert’s Law
Kristopher HaeberlinNo one is coming to tell you how.
No divine instruction manual.
No whispered secret from the wind.
You are the blueprint.
The task is the test.
And excellence—
that quiet, burning force within—
is not suggested. It’s required.You weren’t given this burden to fumble it.
You weren’t chosen to coast.
You were meant to craft.
To carve the best possible path
from raw stone and stubborn will.Others may shrug,
do the bare minimum,
pray for luck or blame the sky.
But you—
you shoulder the weight with intention.
Because if it must be done,
let it be done with honor.
Let it be a testament.There are a thousand ways
to do something halfway.
But only one to make it yours—
to wear the result like a crest
on your chest,
knowing no one else
could’ve walked that road
with the same fire in their stride.Responsibility isn’t a chain.
It’s a sword.
And those who fear it,
never rise.
But those who wield it—
they shape legacies.You don’t just take the task.
You take ownership of its destiny.
You ask, “How can I make this better?”
Even when it’s good.
Especially when it’s good.
Because mastery doesn’t settle.
It refines. It reimagines. It reinvents.And every moment you treat effort
as sacred,
you are building something eternal.
Not just a finished job,
but a symbol of your integrity.
A reminder that greatness
isn’t about the glory—
it’s about the grit.So take the task.
Not lightly.
But boldly.
Find the best way forward,
even if no one else does.
Especially then.Because to complete the mission
is survival.
But to elevate it—
to perfect it—
that is legacy. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months 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 3 months 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 3 months 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, 1 weeks 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, 2 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, 2 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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jismar submitted a contest entry to
Write a love letter to something (not someone) that you love 3 months, 3 weeks agoPoetry, I Love & Value Thee
Jiselle MarquezSpoken word
I am heard
From paper to presence
Poetry has given me unlimited expression
I am free
Oh how I do love theeTo have no judgements
No expectations
Only speaking from my highest vibrations
I radiate my lungs
I embody every room in which I stand
Taking my audience on my journey with me
From ear to ear
Rather than hand to handTo have aced every essay
To have read books in the summer
Who knew my calling was to be a poet or an author
No one shows you this is a feasible path
Discouraging you
Saying it’s impractical, unattainable
Only because they’ve never dreamed
of being outside an office or a cubicle
I won’t be naive, I won’t falter
Because for me this dream is anything but impossibleI love the way poetry makes me feel more myself
Every artist can tell you
It’s not for love of money
Not for approval or acceptance
With every note sung, brush stroke, or word spoke
We are emanating our deepest passionsWe are the few unafraid to allow our hearts to shine through
To be vulnerable & bare
To conquer our fear of public speaking
Standing alone on this stage
Yet I don’t feel alone
Sharing my truth with others
Yet it’s safe
It feels like homeCliché to say
But I’m thankful, grateful & blessed
I have found my passion
I withhold love for myself through my writing
& Perhaps call me old fashioned
But there’s nothing more sentimental
Than receiving a hand-written letter
Instead of this new age typingIt’s true paper will always beat rock
Because when my pen hits the paper
I fancy the way the ink glides
The world makes sense again
Writing letter by letter
Mastering my scribe
Curating every sentence
Every stanza
Every story with prideMy thoughts no longer jumbled
I can now see so clearly
I feel weightless
I feel untouchable
It has been my superpower for the world to hear me
Some people want to leave behind money or a legacy
For me—
I will have left my voice, my storyOh poetry, I love & value thee
Thank you for being a safe place for meVoting is closed
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Jiselle,
I loved your letter to your gift of poetry! I also love that it is your highest vibration, as is authenticity! I also love to write handwritten letters, so if you want a penpal, something I have always wanted to do, I’d love to write to you! Enjoy your passion! -
Jiselle, this poem is absolutely gorgeous and definitely confirms your talent with words. I can relate to what you said about acing essays and reading books in the summer throughout childhood and adolescence. A love for reading and writing emerges when we are young and continues blossoming for our entire lives. Thank you for sharing your story!
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You definitely captured what it means to write and possessing the artistry to craft a bridge between writer and reader. It was very beautiful to see that you captured what it means to be a poet, it was like looking into a mirror. Thank you for sharing
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poeticaddiction_365 submitted a contest entry to
Write a love letter to something (not someone) that you love 3 months, 3 weeks agoPoetry Saved My Life
TracyCapturing the true essence of when
The love story began
I smile
Reminiscing on the rhymes
That made me laugh
Easy to create interesting patterns
Some so elementary
Yet so catchy
My words were my power
My emotions needed an outlet
My voice found a safe space
With each line
My love grew fonder
I felt more alive
Whenever I read my words
I was a bit surprised
A master in disguise
My pen was my secret weapon
The words I collectively gathered
Made me aware
That it wasn’t a mere coincidence
Once I started writing
I could never stop
Until I did for a brief period
When my mother passed away
I stumbled on a mental block
My passion had died
Until an angel came to rescue me
Reassuring me that I needed my own words
To revive me
My creativity had never left
I was lusting momentarily
But when my passion
Reminded me that the time was now
I knew that poetry was my true love
It definitely saved me!
Voting is closed
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Tracy – it’s interesting to me whenever I discover how someone I’ve never laid eyes on has the potential to connect by experience. I too had a writers block for five years after my mother passed in 1991. I am rejoicing with you that your passion brought you back. Awesome work 👏🏽 👌🏾
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Thank you Sandrea 🤗 my condolences to you and your family on your loss 🫂 Not many people can relate but when someone does it makes my heart smile ‘cause I always hope that my words resonate with at least one person every time I write ✍🏾📝
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Tracy, I am so glad that you have revived your passion for poetry after your mother’s death. Though we sometimes lose that spark when we are grieving, it is important for us to find our way back as it has the power to comfort us. I hope that you continue writing as you are an inspiration! Thank you for sharing.
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Thank you so much Emmy for your kind words they are much appreciated 🤗 I will continue writing in hopes that by sharing I am also inspiring and motivating others to share their stories and experiences too!
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Your pen will always be your secret weapon and I’m so happy to know that your voice found a safe place . Your poems are your story and I’m so honored to read your story. Very heartfelt 💜
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Thank you for acknowledging the magic of my pen 🤗 I truly appreciate you and your kind words! Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading; it was my pleasure to share glad this poem resonated with you 🫶🏾
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khush submitted a contest entry to
Write a love letter to something (not someone) that you love 3 months, 3 weeks agoOpen, Unclench, Hold
Khush AsifYou have always been here, haven’t you?
Soft, steady, waiting. Unnoticed but never absent.
You have known the weight of my body when I could not stand,
the nervous tug of sleeves over trembling fingers,
the hush of palms pressed against my chest,
as if you alone could keep my heart from breaking open.You have held so much.
Tearstained pillows, quiet apologies, the ghosts of things I should have let go.
You have traced the spines of books that felt safer than people,
curled around the warmth of a teacup on nights that felt too long.
You have built and unbuilt—art, letters, love—
each stroke, each press, a silent rebellion against the fear of being forgotten.And yet, I have not always been kind to you.
I have wrung you in worry, bitten you down to the bone,
clenched you into fists when all you wanted was to open.
I have blamed you for trembling,
when all you were trying to do was hold on.But you—oh, you.
You never left me.
Even when I abandoned myself,
you turned doorknobs, signed my name, reached for the light.
Even in stillness, you moved. Even in silence, you spoke.And here you are still,
writing these words,
building, reaching, proof that I have not stopped—
not really, not ever.So I promise:
I will be gentler with you.
I will unclench, I will open, I will trust.
I will let you rest when you need to and create when you are ready.You are not just my hands.
You are my history, my resilience,
the proof that I am still here.And that is enough. That has always been enough.
Voting is closed
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Khush, this is a beautiful letter about a part of our bodies that are integral to our being but, like you said, often go unnoticed. Our hands hold lovers, protect children, craft masterpieces, and so much more. Even when our minds won’t allow us to be present, our hands are there working through the motions. Thank you for sharing this piece and…read more
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willj submitted a contest entry to
Write a love letter to something (not someone) that you love 3 months, 3 weeks agoA Love Letter To Communication
William JosephMy Dearest Communication,
From the moment I entered the world, before I could even form a word, you were there. The cries of a newborn, in the touch of a mother’s hand, in the unspoken language of your eyes, you made your presence known. you are not just a tool, not just a method, we are nothing without you. You are the silent force that moves the world, the unseen thread that weaves humanity together.
I have loved you in ways, I cannot describe, yet everytime I try, I realize that even the attempt itself is an act of loving you. You are the reason I exist with purpose, the force that allowsme to takethoughts from the depths of my mind and place them into the hearts of others. You are not just a speech, not just words on a page, you are an action, emotion, existence itself.
Everything I do, everything anyone does, begins and ends with you. A handshake, a glance, a carefully crafted letter, all of it is your expression. Without you, silence is not peace; it is a void. Without you, progress is not possible. What is leadership without words? What is love without expression? What is existence if not the constant exchange of signals, gestures, and messages that define our very nature?
You are not bound by sound, nor by sight, nor by language. You live in the subtlety of a raised eyebrow, in the rhythm of music, inthe blinking lights of technology speaking to one another. Every wave to a friend, every story passed down through generations, every revolution that has ever begun with the words, “enough is enough”, all of it is you.
You are the unseen architect of civilization. Without you, there are no laws, no literature, no connection between minds.
Every invention that has ever changes the world, started with you. A scientist speakes to his ideas before he builds. A writer listens to his soul before he creates. A lover whispers before they embrace. Everything begins with you.
And that is why I love you. Not because you merely exist but because you are existence , itself. You are the greatest power we have ever known.
So, I dedicate my life to you. Not just as a speaker, a writer, a thinker, but as someone who understands that without you, I am nothing.
With All My Heart,
William Joseph
Voting is closed
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William, communication truly is what makes the world go around. I love how you mentioned being a baby and communicating from the time you were born, even though words were unknown to you. So much of our communication comes is nonverbal, and really, I think we learn more from that than from other forms of communication. Thank you for sharing this…read more
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Emmy, your words truly resonate with me! It’s amazing how much of our communication happens beyond words—through gestures, expressions, and even silence. It’s a universal language that connects us from the moment we take our first breath. I love that my writing gave you something to reflect on, and I appreciate you taking the time to share your…read more
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maddiemarquard submitted a contest entry to
Write a love letter to something (not someone) that you love 3 months, 3 weeks agoHome Base
Maddie Marquard“Always be ready!”
My dad would yell from the stands
Crouch
Step, step
Hover
Clap!
The ball hits the leather
“Striiiike” yells the umpire
It’s like I could taste each out
Before the play was madeEvery few pitches I lick my first three fingers on my throwing hand
The dirt grazes my pores as if it was made for me
The perfect solution for a perfect grip, a perfect throw
I wasn’t afraid of germs in the field
It’s like calories around Christmas
They didn’t countThe batter shows bunt
“Up, up, up!” my coaches yell
I creep up
Putting the 14 bones in my face on the line
My mom winces
I run toward it
Slap!
Dead sprint like I’m being chased
I dive and slide head first
Stretched out for the catch
I pop up for the double play
The crowd goes wildI dreamed of days like this
I still do
Lying sick in a hospital bed
It’s all I wanted
Whether it was the season I was knocking on death’s door
Or the one I blew out my knee I couldn’t play all season
Until the last game of the season
The last of my careerShe threw the pitch off the plate
To protect me on that route I had sprinted so many times
“Ball” the umpire calls out
“Time” my coach says as he runs out
Makes a substitution
“Number 17 in for number 11 at third base”
The announcers’ voice booms
I slowly walk off the field
The crowd on their feet
Clapping me in
As if it was God waving me in
Saying, “I’ve got it from here”How can you not be romantic about baseball?
Voting is closed
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I loved reading this. Thank you for sharing.
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Maddie, while I have never been a baseball player myself, I have always enjoyed the energy and tense nature of the game. Your letter to baseball is beautiful and you did, in fact, make the sport romantic! I can sense the dust, the heat, and the crack of the bat hitting the ball from your description. Thank you for sharing your experience!
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There’s just something about being on a baseball field! I loved reading this.
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janellecomstock3 submitted a contest entry to
Write a love letter to something (not someone) that you love 3 months, 3 weeks agoFree Will, Autonomy, & Authenticity
Janelle M. ComstockT’was a crisp and wintry eve, as I sat by the fireplace to craft this divine love letter to thee.
Thou may be INVISIBLE; thy trio be one of a kind.
Free Will; without you in this lifetime, we would never know the SUFFERING and ANGUISH of making a poor decision, nor the JOYOUS BLISS of changing our minds and crossing paths when making BETTER DECISIONS. You are open and welcoming; patient and permissive; universally accepting.
Autonomy; you are fiercely independent and strong in conviction… sometimes flawed and wavering, though confident in depiction of all that you are. What makes you special is your ability to change your state of mind; never feeling stuck, always knowing that change is the only constant, fearlessly transforming at any given moment. You have the gift of shapeshifting into your highest self.
Authenticity; YOU are UNIQUE and GENUINE, there is nothing quite like you. You are the HIGHEST VIBRATION, the secret ingredient to life. I cherish your honesty, integrity, and loving energy. Your beauty is blinding; a translucent, vibrant, colorful soul. You raise me up and connect me to the tree of life.
Free Will, Autonomy, & Authenticity; you transform my bleeding heart and create an energy of passion for life. You level me up to share these gifts with other beautiful souls. YOU ARE MIRACULOUSLY SELFLESS.
With Tender Love,
Janelle M. ComstockVoting is closed
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Janelle, I love the way you write to your free will, autonomy, and authenticity. Though these are, like you said, invisible, they give us the opportunity to live life in the way that we choose. We only have to be true to ourselves. You are right—it is the secret ingredient to life. Thank you for sharing this piece!
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Thank you! This comment makes my day!
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