Day Twenty Seven: Writing After Midnight

It’s half one

And I’m updating the blog

Should be sleeping like a log

Or some other cliche…

It’s after half one

And the poems are down

But I still seem to frown

My brain shouts ‘Touché!’

It’s nearly two

And I’ve nothing to do

Should be cuddling you

Avoiding the fray.

It’s two

Can I sleep

Not a peep

Please may?

Day Twenty Four: Ants

There are ants

In my skull

Eating the fluff

I call brains

Marshmallow fluff

In a jar too small.

The pain…

Day Seventeen: Moors

I don’t think I have

A train of thought 

A train is fast, loud

A to B with

Minimal fuss

Though smelly

Crowded

Grubby

Bumpy

Seats lumpy

Kids grumpy;

It arrives

When will my thoughts arrive?

And where are they headed?

Not a train of thought;

Not even a derailed one

But a wanderer

Aimless; aching;

Stomping around the limitless

Moors of my mind.

Day Sixteen: Only the Mountain

I climbed a mountain

It broke me

But I got better.

I walked and walked

And smiled and talked

While leg muscles strained

And toes were maimed

And boots were scuffed

To pieces.

The mountain was beautiful,

Snow and sunshine

All the extremes.

Such a trial,

Yet I rose to it

If only

My mind 

Was only a mountain.

Day Fourteen: Arguing with Myself

Why are you mean to me?

Because you’re

Weak

Frail

Easy

Dumb

Fat

Lazy

Crazy…

Leave off it

I’m not crazy

I have issues

But there’s reasons

For the seasons

Of my mood.

No, you are 

Loser

Waster

Stupid

Faker

Crackpot

Fess up,

Mess up!

No! I am

Artist

Singer

Writer

Bringer

Seeker

Dreamer

Always a dreamer

Keep dreaming, fatso.

Day Four: Bad Day

I cast around to find the fly in ointment on the floor
A stain indeed; a broken reed that sings my tune no more.
A blackened spot; out! Out, I say! But scrubs and scrapes all fail,
While waters fall and bile meets gall and dirty eyes plain wail.
…Oh how I need to stem the reed and sing aloud again…

Day Twenty Seven: Black Swan

 

Captured forever on water

Now so still

Then rippling with life

Gifted by wind

Airy heartbeats

Thrumming beneath

Your ebony breast.

Smooth and slow

A stately slide

Across this breathing pond.

Yet beneath the chuckling surface

I know too well

Your legs are tired

Pushing, pulling, forcing back

The endless current.

Day Twenty Six: Shake

Shake the blackened curtain on this stage
Where tread the actors of a tired play
That bores a mocking audience away
The doors slam hard with twisted turgid rage
Shake the curtain, knock the dust out; grey
And thick on the cracked floor of this cage.

But hark; bird song filters through the beams
And a shaft of compromising light
Landing lyrically on boards now bright
Crippling the nauseating night
Lifting my dreams.

Day Seventeen: The Mercurial Mind

Today’s prompt was to write a poem involving at least three senses to describe something. Having had an emotional few days, I decided to paint a sensory portrait of my mind as it feels to me when depression is trying to take grip.

Remember, if you feel down or depressed, try not to suffer in silence if at all possible. See your GP, speak to a family member or trusted friend, or if you have no one to turn to call 08457909090 to speak to The Samaritans in the UK or in the USA visit http://www.samaritansusa.org/contact.php for contact details. If anyone wants to add more, please do in the comments below. Depression and anxiety are treatable and manageable, with the right support, but don’t let anyone ever tell you your condition is not serious; only you know how you feel, and the treatment has to be tailored for you and you alone.

 

Mercurial mind

You are the smell of burning tyres

And stale wine

You are the sting of static wires

And pure lime

You are the roar of hurricanes

And dead lines

The hum of no one

The ache of loneliness

The burn of uncertainty

For no certain reason

Mercurial mind

You lost me before

I ever lost you.

 Picture source: therapymarket.co.uk