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Hello, friends. This is just a friendly reminder that your light can truly make a difference. When you do good for others and yourself, it comes back to you. When you carry gratitude, kindness, and humility with you, you open doors for those same things to come back to you.

This poem is about bringing positivity, light, gratitude, and grace into your life and allowing those things to change your perception of the world. It’s about letting what’s in your heart change the world around you and having those positive things reflect back to you. When you put kindness, light, and gratitude out into the world, it will shower back down to you in the form of hope and success.

So keep shining that beautiful light of yours. Wonderful things are on their way to you.

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Keep Shining

Keep shining, sweet one—
the world grows in your glow.
What you give,
returns.
Joy calls joy,
light calls light.

Let gratitude hum in your heart,
let grace lead your days—
and witness
how blessings find you.

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Disclaimer: My writing is 100% human-produced. For more information about my poetry, please contact me directly.

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There are people in this world who have the strength and courage to stand up for what they believe in, no matter the odds. They break through the stone, dispel the myths, and face mockery without surrendering. And although these people are strong, it does not mean that the road they have chosen is easy. That path made of stone can break you, bruise you, and leave you wanting to turn around and run right back the way you came.

But the thing is, there are people who have walked that road before us. They have carved a way through the stone, leaving behind a path for others to follow. And if you find yourself walking a long and lonely road, just know that you are not as alone. You may not reach the same distance as those who came before you, but you will get there in your own time.

This poem is for you.

With the Mighty

To those who rise when silence is safer,
Who speak when holy words harm
I see you.
You sit beside the outcast,
Stand tall beside the bruised.
You are not alone.

To those who open doors to strangers,
Who call out injustice,
Who wear “liberal” like a badge of fire
You are not shamed.
You are seen.

When you disturb false peace,
When you call out greed,
But still find beauty
In every soul that breathes
Know this:
You walk the road
Where prophets once bled,
Where mothers prayed for justice,
Where truth dared to speak.

It is not always easy.
You will be called names,
Misread,
Mocked.
But take heart.

You, the truth-teller,
You, the justice-seeker,
You, the healer of aching souls
You walk not alone.
You walk with the mighty.
And the mighty walk with you.

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I’d love to hear from you! Please feel free to comment, share, or reach out. Together, we can build a warm and inviting poetry community.

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Disclaimer: My writing is 100% human-produced. Pangram reports a 0.05% false-positive rate for poetry. This makes the tool more likely to misclassify human-written poetry as AI-derived. For this reason, I have disabled AI detection, as Pangram has proven unreliable for assessing AI in poetry. For more information about my poetry, please contact me directly.

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I wrote this poem to express grief, resilience, and imperfect healing. I imagine the mountain swallowing my sorrow, as if the world were swallowing it, too, paying no heed. The sky, stars, the moon, the sun, the heavens - all of them are watching over “all that we are,” deepening the sense that my grief is massive and eternal. When I wrote “we hold each other / like shattered mirrors,” I imagine two broken hearts that still have the power to love each other delicately, reflecting truths back to each other. The lines “I write your name/ spilled ink in an/ ocean of tears” are me writing my own name or someone else’s in grief, loss, or transition. To me, this poem is not about forgiveness but about holding on and entwining pain and love for as long as it takes to heal.

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Holding

the mountain drinks 
our cries—
echoes in
bone

the stars, the moon,
the sun, and the sky
are fated to witness
all that we are

they stay
they shine

we hold each other
like shattered mirrors—
reflections cut
heal

i write your name
spilled ink in an 
ocean of tears

not forgiveness
seeds
holding

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Thank you for sharing a little bit of your day with me. It really means the world to me! Every word on this site is 100% human and crafted with love, curiosity, and a genuine desire to connect. I hope these words sparked a thought, a feeling, or even a smile today.

I’d love to hear from you! Please feel free to comment, share, or reach out. Together, we can build a warm and inviting poetry community.

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Disclaimer: My writing is 100% human-produced. Pangram reports on its website that poetry has a 0.05% false-positive rate. This makes the tool more likely to misclassify human-written poetry as AI-derived. For this reason, I have disabled AI detection on this publication. For more information about my poetry, please contact me directly.

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The love of the deceased does not die with the death of a person. It lives on, in our sleep, in the folds and creases of our memory, and in the confluence between grief and consolation. In this poem, I am trying to reach the unreachable, to find the lost in the dark night of grief by the light of my dreams only.

The dark night here is not the end of the journey but its continuation with the living presence of the deceased. The dream of the beloved one becomes their presence. I want to show in this poem that the dead often return to us in a form different from what we expect. Perhaps they appear to us in a shape, a shade, an intimate warmth that surrounds us.

In this way, I have anchored my hope in this poem. It is the hope that I can embrace the beloved one in a dream, not only spiritually. It soothes and comforts me that the dead don’t stay in the distance, but come to meet us too.

Dreamlight

dreamlight folds the night
where the dark forgets our names
your face never comes
yet I remember you still
breathless near my skin
in the hush between our thoughts
do not speak or stir
silence makes the shape of you
like lost ancient suns
old as longing, faint with fire
I will look for you
in my dreams and love you there
your soul moves through time and space

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Thank you for sharing a little bit of your day with me today. It really means the world to me! Every word on this site is 100% human and crafted with love, curiosity, and a genuine desire to connect. I hope these words sparked a thought or smile today.

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Disclaimer: My writing is 100% human-produced. Pangram reports on its website that poetry has a 0.05% false-positive rate. This makes the tool more likely to misclassify human-written poetry as AI-derived. For this reason, I have disabled AI detection. For more information about my poetry, please reach out to me directly.

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Go Quietly

Go quiet, my love.
The world cannot comprehend
the whispers of strength
you have yet to call your own.
In silence, you find
a roaring fire within you,
a flame no one else
can extinguish or restrain.
You are the healer,
not the one who waits for hands
to mend the cracks in your soul.

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to find our way home
i know the way without sight
memory once lit
by the crack of winter glass
and the silence that followed

✦

The scent of fresh rain 
haunts halls l've never wandered.
Your shadow purrs low
Find me beneath shattered skies; 
meet me in my lucid dreams.

✦

why kneel down to pray 
i'd rather climb a mountain 
face the endless blue
where the sky connects to god 
and silence cradles my soul

✦

I want to live far, 
from the hum of busy roads, 
where silence takes root.
Saguaros whisper to stars, 
pulling me into stillness.

✦

goodnight, my darling
meet me in dreams where silence 
is our shelter and 
love survives untouched by time 
beneath lush jade arching vines

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Thank you for sharing a little bit of your day with me. It really means the world to me! Every word on this site is 100% human and crafted with love, curiosity, and a genuine desire to connect. I hope these words sparked a thought, a feeling, or even a smile today.

I’d love to hear from you! Please feel free to comment, share, or reach out. Together, we can build a warm and inviting poetry community.

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Disclaimer: My writing is 100% human-produced. Pangram reports on its website that poetry has a 0.05% false-positive rate. This makes the tool more likely to misclassify human-written poetry as AI-derived. For this reason, I have disabled AI detection, as Pangram has proven not to be a reliable method for assessing AI in poetry. For more information about my poetry, please reach out to me directly.

This is a sweet little poem about love.

Love that makes the middle of the day feel slower. Like everything easing into gentleness. Like presence changing the air in the room. Like one breath is enough, and the whole body settles.

Love that stays close without trying. No explaining. No earning. Just real. Even the quiet moments feel warm, and there’s no need to reach far. Everything needed is already there.

Then it clicks into place. Love, remembered all the way. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just tender. Built from small things, the kind that only make sense for two people. Small things that add up until everything else falls away.

And even when nothing is happening, even when it’s just being, it stays. That’s what the poem is about. Love that’s right here in the present.

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This is Love

you’re the pause in my day
only a breath, and i feel softer
under your presence
apropos of nothing, right here
right where everything is simple
even the quiet feels warm
and i don’t have to reach far
close enough for you to be real
until it feels like you’re right here
now i remember: this is love
tender, not loud
made of small things
yours and mine
do you feel it too
everything else fades
as your name stays on my tongue
right here

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Thank you for sharing a few moments of your day with me. It means the world to me! Every word on this site is written from a space of love, curiosity, and a genuine desire to connect. I hope something here sparked a thought, a feeling, or even a smile.

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I often think about the people who arrived before me. My ancestors. I picture their homelands and the hardships they faced, and I imagine the risks when they crossed the Atlantic Ocean to start new in America. They gave up so much, yet they held on. Their courage travels with me, steady and alive. It reminds me not to shrink or play small. I choose to take up space with their calm joy. I live boldly, honoring the stories that made me who I am today. This piece is my love letter to their legacies. It celebrates both courage and freedom on my terms.

So here is my promise to them: I will grow forward. I will meet each day with brighter intention, and I will remember them as I rise. Here’s to living boldly, just as they did. With love, I walk on, grateful and strong. ❤️

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Ancestors

My ancestors rose through storm and flame,
enduring heartbreak none could name.
They breathed so I might stand tall,
not bend to comfort’s call.
Their strength, still alive
in breath, in bone.
I claim it—
take light,
rise.

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Being a parent is hard work sometimes, and it often leaves us looking back with tenderness and regret.

I wrote this poem about that love that is always there, even if it isn’t always easy for the kids to see. It speaks to all the invisible work we as parents do behind the scenes — the long hours, the worry, the rules, and the constant effort to keep our children safe in a world that can feel full of danger. Sometimes that love doesn’t come out as warmth and open affection. Sometimes it shows up as discipline, restraint, or a firm “no.”

And the poem is honest about something else too: parents aren’t perfect. We get anxious, we stumble, we miss chances to use kinder words, or to say exactly what we feel.

So if you’re struggling as a parent today, this poem is for you. You are doing your best. You love your kids deeply. And hopefully, someday, they’ll understand that your silence and your strictness were also forms of love.

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Worked hard in silence,

hours poured into midnights,

guarding their soft peace

with the weight of all my fears

and the hopes for them.

Rules I laid like stone pathways,

not to make them hurt,

but to block what lay unseen.

Even love can wear

the shape of correcting words

or a quiet no.

Anxious, I often stumbled,

missed the kinder phrase,

failed to say what I carried

in my quiet work.

Still, I packed my love inside

each withheld moment.

One day, I hope they will see

what I could not say:

I was not always perfect,

they were always my reason.

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I wrote this poem about moving from a life of always reaching for more to just being still. I spent so long chasing horizons that never quite belonged to me. Now, I’ve found these quieter corners where difficult truths can finally rest. Writing became my way of burning all that down to ash. It’s weird how breaking words apart on a page can release what you’ve been holding inside. There’s real freedom in that burning, in finally dropping what you can’t carry.

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Restless, I once was,
chasing the edges of the world,
horizons unclaimed.
Now, I dwell where shadows rest,
in a fire-lit room.
Words, fractured, slip from my soul—
embers on the page,
truths consumed in quiet flames,
ashes, a sudden release.

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Braided Night

not peace, not chaos                 
but both, woven together—           
threads of quiet night              
braided with the restless storm,    
hands begin to move,                
searching out their fragile shape    
in the darkened air,                
as thunder fades to silence,        
rain withdraws slowly,              
leaving behind faint traces         
the echo remains                    
a shadow of our passing             
and love becomes the dream 

:::

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Lately

Lately,
words come slower—

the noise of the world
loud,
unrelenting,

a weight pressing 
deep against
every line I try
to shape.

Even lighter things,
the everyday rhythms,
have felt hard
to translate
into language.

Yet I know
words are my sanctuary,
a quiet shore I return to
when all else roars.

So I keep showing up,
one breath,
one line
at a time.

;

I wrote Lately to gently explore the struggles and quiet resilience many artists are feeling right now. It comes from my own experience of being creatively blocked — lately the world’s noise and pressure have made finding the right lines much harder. That “noise” and a constant weight seem to press down on expression, and even ordinary rhythms feel difficult to translate, like energy and perception have been worn thin.

Still, writing remains my refuge. It’s a soft, steady sanctuary where I can breathe and heal. The closing lines are a promise to myself — a patient, disciplined return — one breath, one line at a time. The tone is weary but quietly determined, intimate and reflective, and the heart of the poem is the tug between being impeded by external and internal pressures and the healing persistence of continuing to write.

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This poem is about that moment when you finally take off the masks other people have placed on you. And you stop asking for permission to just live.

As women, we often get stuck in these roles, right? Daughter, mother, sister, lover. And it can feel like we’re suffocating under all of it. You lose yourself.

So in this poem, I wanted to examine that feeling of taking the mask off. When she looks into the mirror and strips away those labels, there’s something real there. Something that was always there. She’s not becoming someone new. She’s just coming back to who she was before society told her who she was.

It’s not angry. It’s quieter than that. Just clear and calm.

The mask, the mirror, the breath—they’re about taking back your voice. Your power. And I think the bravest act is just remembering who you were all along and choosing to live that truth.

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Returning

one morning  
she unfastened the mask  
they had pinned to her face—  

and for the first time  
she didn’t ask permission  
to breathe.  

she stood in the mirror  
not as a shadow or a daughter,  
not as a mother or a lover,  
not as a sacrifice—  

only herself:  
raw,  
undeniable,  
bright  
with her own fire.  

not becoming someone new,  
but returning  
to the rhythm  
of her own heart.

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I wrote this poem as a blessing. It is a quiet but urgent asking for gentleness, rootedness, and action. It begins with the image of first snow as mercy: calm, restorative, not showy.

The poem turns from internal peace to external practice. Peace is not just a feeling, it “pulls up a chair” and insists on being a part of our lives, nudging us to act. The moral center is simple: keep choosing the small, steady goods that open doors and build community.

Crucially, the poem names the poor as teachers – vulnerability as a source of wisdom that should reshape how we treat one another. The final image, of turning into “lanterns in the vast night,” makes private kindness a public duty: let our quiet mercies light the world.

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Quiet Mercy

May blessings settle upon you
like first snow—quiet, merciful
resting gentle hands on the waning year.

May peace rise warm in your heart,
settle into the corners of your home,
pull up a chair at your table,
and speak in a steady, active voice of hope.

May your heart stand rooted, wise,
choosing again and again
the good that lifts—
the good that opens doors and whispers,
Come in.

And may the poor, 
our radiant teachers—
show us the holy truth
held in their bare palms.

And in every quiet mercy,
may we become lanterns in the vast night,
casting love’s bright, steady glow
across the waiting world.

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In Dreams is my latest poem I am pleased to present it to you. This is one of many that I have written at three in the morning because I couldn’t sleep. Everything in that space just feels too real.

And then a memory of this person came to me.

This was a person I deeply cherished, and now they are no longer here. My goal was to create a piece that celebrates their memory. This poem is about preserving their spirit, keeping it alive and powerful, even after they’ve passed. It’s a reflection on how to hold onto them without it breaking you. And for me, it is through dreams.

That’s where I can still reach them.

But honestly, this poem is not just about one person. It’s about all of them. The ones still here and the ones who left. Everyone who feels like a sun burning inside me. Warm and always there. They’re constantly on my mind, and I wanted to get that down somehow. That feeling of loving someone through all space and time. Not like they’re gone forever, just like they moved. And now I have to love them from here.

I couldn’t stop my brain that night. I just kept thinking about how dreams are the only place where being apart doesn’t really matter. Where we can still touch somehow. I needed to write it to make it real. To say it out loud: you’re still here. You’re still in me. Even though I miss you.

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In Dreams

dreamlight folds the night 
where the dark forgets our names 
your face never comes 
yet I remember you still 
breathless near my skin
in the hush between our thoughts 
do not speak or stir 
silence makes the shape of you 
like lost ancient suns
old as longing, faint with fire 
I will look for you
in my dreams and love you there 
your soul moves through time and space

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I wrote this poem because I had a question that would not leave me alone. What does it mean to matter when you are one person? I wanted to understand how to feel purposeful even though I know how small I am.

I kept thinking about a thread in a tapestry. One thread cannot hold everything together, but if you pull it out you notice it was always supposed to be there. This changed how I think about strength. Small and gentle do not have to mean weakness. There is power in showing up. There is power in using your hands to show love. There is power in bringing peace to places that hurt. You do not need an audience or a big plan for your actions to matter.

The end came when I finally let go of my need for answers. I stopped needing to understand how my actions fit into everything else. When I let go I found peace. I hope this poem helps you feel less alone if you have ever wondered whether your quiet presence counts. It does. That is what matters.

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Sacred Thread

sacred endless blue
turn me into a beacon
my hands, two rivers
carrying the weight of love

feet that bring forth hope
my voice built of quiet song
silence, its temple
peace poured into every wound

i am just a thread
deep within the tapestry
woven into love
unfolding beyond my sight

so it is, so shall it be

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Today, I’m thinking about a conversation that changed me. I remember a friend whose energy could light up any room. He brought laughter and excitement wherever he went, making life feel brighter. But as substance abuse took hold, I watched that spark slowly fade, and it was painful to see.

After we talked, I felt stuck in my feelings. I wasn’t sure how to help him see that he needed professional support. I knew I had to act, because doing nothing felt wrong.

But he’s an adult, and it’s his life. That was the hardest part. He wanted to get better, but he just wouldn’t or couldn’t take the first step. Many people feel helpless when someone they care about is hurting. This poem comes from both his pain and mine. Substance abuse affects not only the person struggling, but also their family and friends.

But this poem isn’t only about substance abuse. It’s about the struggles we all go through. It’s for those times when life feels so incredibly overwhelming and we’re looking for a way forward.

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People aren’t as weak as they feel when they are struggling. Even when we’re worn out and defeated, we still have the strength to fight. That’s where the idea of the boat came from. The boat and oars are tools already in us. They represent our ability to keep going, even when daunting and slow. Sometimes it’s just going to the grocery store or replying to a text message. That still matters; that’s still picking up an oar and taking action.

Feeling stuck doesn’t last forever. There’s always something we can do to move forward. Even a small step is progress, and that’s what counts. It’s not how far you go, but that you took the initiative to try and keep trying. Sometimes there might be a slip-up, and it feels like going back to the start, but that doesn’t mean complete failure. It means the process is messy, natural, and human.

Moving forward isn’t always a straight path; sometimes it’s uneven or even backward. What matters is that we keep getting up, trying, and moving.

When I refer to staying on the shore, I mean the place where fear and doubt keep us stuck. It can feel safer because it’s familiar, but nothing changes if you stay in one spot. It isn’t really living if we just exist day in and day out because we are afraid to act. In the end, it’s a choice to stay where it’s familiar or leave and try something new.

The rowing part is simple. It means doing something. A self-rescuing of ourselves, if you will. It is mustering up the courage to take a step, even when we feel unsure. The fear doesn’t go away first. Sometimes we have to face our fears head-on and move forward, even when we feel most frightened or unsure. There’s an old quote, “the only way through the fire is through the fire.” It’s true. Nothing is easy in life, and new things are tough. The effort matters, and even a small step is progress.

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The one line about rescuing yourself means a lot to me. It’s not about saying we don’t need others because we all do. Support matters when committing to change, as much as asking for help and letting people in.

No one is meant to do everything alone, but in the end, there’s a choice only we can make. If we don’t make that choice, nothing will change.

So when I say the choice is yours, I mean it simply and directly. I don’t mean to sound harsh. Sometimes, when we are deep in despair, it’s hard to see the way out. But we already have something to work with, even if it doesn’t feel like it. Humans haven’t evolved as long as we have without intrinsic resilience to adversity. The real question is whether we’ll use it and take the step to move forward. Substance abuse is something to overcome, but so is starting a new job or an exercise journey. I know my friend can do it, and so can you, one step at a time.

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Oars

You’ve been given the boat and the oars.
Will you linger, weeping on shore?
Or climb aboard and start rowing
through seas of doubt and fear
to rescue yourself.
The choice is yours.
Claim your strength.
Start now.
Row.

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This poem comes from a place of quiet understanding. It is an inner peace that doesn’t shout but settles calmly within, patiently waiting. I see power that doesn’t need to chase after anything or plead; it simply exists so fully that the world becomes naturally inspired to respond. To me, she symbolizes the stillness before a change begins, a sacred pause where unseen forces come together to gather strength.

The desert, the storm, the wind—all of this seems like reflections of our inner worlds. I wanted to let it spark change naturally. This piece celebrates reverence, growth, and a gentle presence that fosters transformation, inviting it rather than demanding it.

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she is the sacred pause
before rain;
the hush that holds a prayer—

desert cracks opens
beneath an ancient sky

she does not beg.

she invokes the storm
faith pooling
in her cupped palms

and the spirit of the
wind answers,

holding her name
with reverence

as the storm bows
to meet her.

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I wrote this poem to honor those peaceful moments in life when everything aligns perfectly. While working on a tanka poem, I kept returning to the idea that the night feels especially calm when you’re alone with only your thoughts. Night possesses a gentle yet invigorating essence that helps us trust ourselves. I aimed to express that sense of no rush, a peaceful chance just to be.

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Awaken beneath the silken night,
Under stars gently shimmering.
The universe softly sings,
Heavenly truths held dear.
Every faint dream glows,
Nestled in time.
Trust yourself—
it’s time,
Come.

Thank you for sharing a moment of your day with me. It really means the world to me! Every word on this site is crafted with love, curiosity, and a genuine desire to connect. I hope something here sparked a thought, a feeling, or even a smile.

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I’d love to hear from you! Feel free to comment, share, or reach out. Together, let’s create a warm and inviting poetry community.

I wrote this nonet poem as a peaceful, uplifting meditation on the beauty of clearness and inner peace. The image of the sky is an image I remember from childhood. It signifies serenity and encourages us to accept both openness and lightness. In this poem, I use the blue sky as a wish for myself and for the reader. Let your mind be clear and open, as wide as the blue sky.

I chose the metaphor of sunlight to encourage happiness. This happiness stretches and expands while firmly staying rooted in the soul. Sunlight has always created an image of stability and strength.

As the poem continues, I offer a sincere wish for harmony. It functions like a peace walk alongside the reader. It’s a soft nudge, helping guide us away from the heaviness of the past. It leads us into the joy-filled future.

The simplicity and rhythm of this poem reflect a craving for balance among mind, soul, and spirit. They are aligned in a state of calm wholeness. The poem speaks to our deeper desire for peace. Peace is free from the chaos of the times and the noise of social media. In this space, the present and future join in a concordant hug of joy and contentment.

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May your mind be clear as the blue sky,
happiness stretching like sunlight,
your soul grounded in stone,
peace walking beside you,
past losing its grip,
future beaming,
full of joy,
calm and
whole.

cbbhattacharya // Barefoot Poetessa

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Thank you for spending a little part of your day with me. If this poem spoke to you, I invite you to subscribe, comment, like, and restack. I write about healing, boundaries, light, and reclaiming your power. Let’s walk this path together.

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