Poetry
Writing to, from, and about the parts within. Sharing to normalize the healing process.
Out Now: How To Write Evocative Poetry
The Cave
Once
When I was a young boy
You yelled at me
Objectively
It wasn’t much
But it was enough
That night
I built a cave
Inside my mind
One that overlooked
A lake
Whose water
Perfectly reflected
The beauty
Of the nature
That surrounded it
The cave was secret
And strong
And safe
The lake was still
And soft
And serene
I quickly learnt
To hide in that cave
And to gaze upon the water of the lake
Loosing myself
In the reflection
Of a false reality
Made real
By fear
You never yelled at me again
In fact
We never really spoke
At least
Not about anything that mattered
As you pulled away from me
I found solace
Sitting in the cave
Whose creation you inspired
I’d look at the lake
Wishing
You’d appear
Wishing you would
Say
‘Son, won’t you come swim with me?’
But you never came
Later
When I left home
You didn’t fight for me
You didn’t speak or even acknowledge
My absence
But you did leave a mark on my mind
That cave
Is now haunted
By the silent screams
Of the words
You left unsaid
And that lake
Still has ripples
From the rocks
We never thew
Together
The beauty of nature is obscured
By your indifference
And
I no longer
Have anywhere safe
To hide
This poem is inspired by my book, How To Write Evocative Poetry
Stupefied
I sit
Stupefied
Seeking solace
From shame
The silence
Is no longer safe
Secrets seep
From the shadow
Slowly I find myself
Surrounded
My sanity siphoned
Into stillness
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
un-actioned decisions
a man walks
blindfolded and alone
desperately searching for meaning
finding nothing
he cries
and clings to his own broken form
the remnants
of a series of an un-actioned decisions
the only identity left to embrace
nonetheless he smiles
unable to hide the irony
that only now does he finally feel safe
This poem is inspired by the book How To Write Evocative Poetry
In Your Absence
I can’t quite express
The confusion and the mess
That’s been left
In your absence
Why didn’t you confess
The demons that had you possessed?
Why couldn’t you
Escape the thoughts that had you depressed?
Why was this the only way you could address
The aspects of life that you detest
that had you dispossessed?
Perhaps if you got some of it off your chest
The world wouldn’t be one man less
One man that blessed it with his presence
Now all who knew you are left to digest
News of death’s caress via a self-inflicted process
We can’t protest
We can only attest
To the pain and existential unrest
Of the hole your life has left
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
sertraline
medication?
more like calcification
the myopic solution
replacing anxiety
with apathy
losing focus
focusing
on what i have lost
my thoughts
circle the drain
both hope and fear
falling in turn
i am lost
a rudderless raft
left to drift
upon a dead calm lake
fog obscures the bank
fog obscures desire
i am far too calm
to stay safe
life and death
seem equally desirable
i drift
cold rationality
the last remaining
life preserver
the small subtle voice
whispering
that this too shall pass
the sun will shine
the wind will blow
and i will have purpose once more