Tag Archives: being

Trying Too Hard Means What? Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse

Some say that I “try too hard”.
What does that mean?

I try to be loving.
I try to be conscientious.
I try to be kind.
I try to be trustworthy.
I try to be friendly.
I try to be fun.
I try to be loyal.
I try to be helpful.
I try to be creative.
I try to be humble.
I try to be a hard worker.
I try to be spiritual.
I try to be intelligent.
I try to be visionary.
I try to be outgoing.
I try to be inclusive.
I try to be nonjudgmental.
I try to be cheerful.
I try to be non-prejudicial.
I try to be loving.
I try to be likable.
I try to be thrifty.
I try to be observational.
I try to be smiling.
I try to be joyful.
I try to be charitable.
I try to be righteous.
I try to be teachable.
I try to be the change.
I try to be a teacher.
I try to be contemplative.
I try to be repentant.
I try to be courteous.
I try to be obedient.
I try to be clean physically, mentally and spiritually.
I try to be brave.
I try to stand up for what’s right.
I try to be reverent.
I try to follow Him, to be a true Christian.
I try to be just.
I try to just be.

I am trying, but trying “too hard”?
What does that mean?
Why would I stop trying?

The Emergence Of The Grown, Cocooned Youth: Revolutionary IMprov Poem

The young,
optimistic s/he,
running,
happy,
care free,
observing,
enjoying,
creative,

Withdrew.

From fear,
through a desire
for self-preservation,
and wrapped itself
deep within
the shell
that grew
and matured
and thrived

and took the blows
and the arrows
and the doubts
and the pain.

But one day
the cocooned,
energized,
insightful,
observant,
joyful
protected being,
who had grown
and been nurtured
and cherished,
realized it was time.

Time to emerge.
Time to reveal.
Time to risk.
Time to take
its rightful place
as owner
and operator
and thinker
of its soul
and mind
and destiny.

It was scary,
at first,
to show itself.
To say “Here I am,
again,
for the first time.”

But it felt the warmth of the sun
on its face.
The cool breeze blowing through its hair.
The moist mist of early morning
fog lifting.
The passion
and compassion
of love.

And it knew,
having been sheltered
and protected
and nurtured
and walled
for so long,

that free,
and fearless
and embracing
and empowered
and enjoying
and joyful
was where it belonged.

Here.
Now.
Being.