Poetry
Writing to, from, and about the parts within. Sharing to normalize the healing process.
Out Now: How To Write Evocative Poetry
the body keeps the score
i’m frozen
reading the words scratched upon my soul
long before i knew how to read
but now that i’m baked
i’ve got a new take
a new way to remake
and rewrite the wake
so many tears
for so few words
it is on me
to see
and send love
inwardly
my shadow bleeds ink
yet i hold the pen
with these words
i begin again
for my story will be long
with chapters anew
and these words
are so few
the body keeps the score
but the pen holds the key
the paper is the door
so love what you see
begin again
This poem is inspired by my book, How To Write Evocative Poetry
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
Triggered
I cannot whisper
The words I wish to scream
Tears fall
At the precipice of silence
Unmoving internal chaos
Catatonic rage
Memories of the present
Give way to realities of the past
All again
All at once
Visions flash
To the beat of the body’s rocking
The internal observer
Watches helpless
Why can’t you see I’m suffering?
Don’t you dare touch me
Thank god
For Valium
i’m worth keeping
upon waking
i’m dismayed to discover myself already breaking
thoughts preaching
lights beaming
whispered voices that feel like screaming
i find myself fleeing
huddling in a corner
counting heartbeats
shallow breathing
i can actually feel my rationality leaving
whatever i was is now just dissociated dreaming
i long to find meaning
behind these tears now streaming
but all i can muster is passive disbelieving
i thought such pain was leaving
i thought i was a book worth reading
i thought by sharing and speaking
my days would be filled with more than just ink bleeding
time passes and i hear my kids pleading
they want their dad
not some broken mess stuck self-defeating
time to put on the mask and pretend that the world has stopped screeching
that my thoughts are no longer scheming
and that my pain is receding
but then they hug me and tell me i’m worth keeping
they jump and laugh with smiles gleaming
inviting me to play
requesting
repeating
a loving greeting worth receiving
the world softens
stuck turns fleeting
colour returns
that unmovable block retreating
tension releasing
light increasing
clear seeing
i hold them
and commit to continue proceeding
today was hard
but sometimes just surviving counts as succeeding