Nurturing my words into a finished poetry book, Embracing the journey to self-publish my voice, Xpanding dreams into plans that I can touch, Traveling with family, creating memories that last. Yielding growth through my business vision, Envisioning a space—my poetry lounge alive, Architecting every detail, inside and out, Reaching for more than where I stand today. Growing through change, stepping into a new career, Opportunities captured through every photo shoot, Ambition guiding each move I make,Legacy building with every lesson I learn, Sealing my future with purpose and passion.

L Love fills me through words—spoken soft, spoken true. Lifting my spirit when affirmation comes through. Longing for depth, for a bond that is real, Learning each other beyond what we reveal. O Open to growth, to adventures that expand, On journeys of spirit, side by side, hand in hand. Offering presence, not distance or disguise, Only true connection, seen face to face, eye to eye. V Valuing family, yet space when I need. Voicing my passions through poem and deed. Venturing through hobbies that nourish my soul. Visioning a legacy that makes me whole. E Eager for love that communicates clear. Embracing a gentleman who’s present and sincere. Exploring life deeply, with purpose and grace, Evolving together no one to replace.

I wrote this for a contest I was in. What makes poetry Let's see Firstly I never set out to be a poet It was never me Poetry was 2pac, Nas, Jay-Z Bone Thugs-n-Harmony I can quote their lyrics word for word Didn't think I had it in me Until I opened my eyes To see what others go through I kept seeing my homies Disappear from the corner They no longer here to speak I have to do it for em They no longer have a voice I had no choice But to become a poet I started to form their words Into my own Poetry It's a range of things It's kind of hard to describe But I know what's it’s not Roses are red Violets are blue I love you and you love me to Na sometimes It's fuck you and I hate you to I wish I never met you Yea poetry can be about love But it's not loving all the time It's about pain and anger Heartache and heartbreak See poetry is not a monolith It's what my pen Wants to put on the page It can be all rage Pent up frustration It can be a release On the path to healing It can reveal things That you been holding on to For to long And just need to let go of Like it is for me Poetry It lets me be me I can be happy or sad Mad or glad What I put between these lines Sometimes it may have a happy ending Sometimes not Poetry is life Ups and downs Trials and tribulations When I don't have anyone to talk to It's my best friend That I can tell my secrets to Poetry is my therapy Especially For somebody Who's introverted like me Poetry Is in ink in my veins That bleeds on the sheets To pour out my pain When I put the pen down on them It amazes me at times What I read between these lines I surprise myself at times Like wow did I write that At first I wanted to keep it all to myself Until I realized There are others Who feel what feel Hurt like I hurt That maybe my words can help them With whatever they may be going through Poetry is truth And everyone got a story to tell Been through some sort of hell During those times Poetry is heaven To help walk through them burning coals

Theme: The Rules Not every rule is spoken, but many are understood. We learn them through observation, correction, and consequence. How to behave. What to accept. What not to question. Some of these rules shape us, while others limit us. Today we explore the expectations we inherited, followed, and eventually challenged. ⸻ Prompt 1 – The Unwritten Rules Write a poem about expectations you learned without being directly taught. The things you picked up through tone, behavior, or experience. ⸻ Prompt 2 – Playing By Rules I Didn’t Agree To Write a poem about pressure to conform to standards you didn’t choose. The moments you followed rules that didn’t align with who you are. ⸻ Prompt 3 – Breaking the Rules, What Broke Me Write a poem about rejecting expectations that no longer serve you. What did it take to unlearn them, and what did it cost?

In the midst, of grief. What is strength? Where does it live? The perception of being strong. Because there are no current tears. Doesn't mean I'm not dying inside. It just means I don't know the words. Maybe, my grief is so overwhelming. I don't know what or how to feel. Yet, in thoughts of self Many people perceive that, as me being strong. Because, they're looking for shoulders to lean on. The drama queens that have to cry out loud. Suck up the emotions from the room. Nothing wrong with crying but not performative. Grabbing, attention only. I laugh a lot of times in grief. Inappropriate, from the gut Some think I'm callous. Maybe even a little unhinged. My process, my pain, intentionally introspective. Healing, I don't always know, if it's working. How do I know, it just a feeling. Distrustful of my own thoughts. Right or wrong, it's a lesson. The road, bumpy, winding Steeped hill, unexpected descending... Then, the sun peeks out... The tears flow, in moments of Silence. Where the essence of my strength lies. I let go and scream into the void... Empty my chest of stress.. Breathing again in my peace. Lyrically yours, MydNite Renaissance ❤️‍🩹