THEME POETRY
JULY 2022 = MENTAL HEALTH
A LIFE UPSIDEDOWN
Duane Anderson
Nebraska, USA
At times, I wished I could
walk on ceilings,
or climb the side of buildings,
impressing everyone I met
with these special talents,
but then, after giving it a second thought,
I decided I didn’t want to take a chance
of being squished like a bug.
It was not a way I wanted my life to end.
__________
​
CAGE OF EXPECTATIONS
Shareen Chahal
United States
Stones of worries,
Spears of anxiety
Pummel and pierce
The tiger, trapped–
Clawing and howling
At the metal bars,
Its voice oppressed,
And so is its stress
Up builds the strain,
And what is left
is a hollow shell of
What the tiger used to be–
Its voice is no more
__________
​
SEVERE HIGHS, SEVERE LOWS
Tammy Jann
New Hampshire, USA
Tripping, you're tracing
the outer edge
thoughts are racing
so much to be said
melodies playing
you dance to their tune
swinging and swaying
perform to the room
deplete your joy
reel in the laughter
you are their toy
nothing else matters
there are no limits
it's a matter of time
overrun by spirits
your severe highs
Voices are calling
darkness sets in
stumbling and falling
and losing your grip
trapped in your mind
no keys to this cell
your jailer's unkind
you've lost yourself
love has no meaning
thoughts slip away
your brain is screaming
why should you stay
the world echoes pain
and you're all alone
feelings betrayed
your severe lows
__________
​
LIKE SPOILED FRUIT
Linda M. Crate
Pennsylvania, USA
mental health is important
so please remember to be there
for people in the capacity that you
can when they may need help,
mental health is important so let's stop
treating it like a secret shame that
someone has to keep quiet
and to themselves because you may
not want to deal with it;
even if you don't have the mental bandwidth
to deal with it you can always be kind to
someone who is suffering they may just want
a person to stand with them in the dark
rather than any advice you could offer them—
give them any help you can because
I find that those struggling the hardest often
keep their mental health burdens to themselves,
my uncle's demons weren't apparent to me
until he took his own life;
and it was when he took his life that I realized
I didn't really want to die I just wanted all this pain in me to rot away like spoiled fruit.
__________
​
WELCOME HOME, JIM
Mark Hudson
Jim was gone for nine months or so,
he stopped taking his meds sometime ago.
His first stop was jail for talking back to a cop,
he couldn’t help it-the voices wouldn’t stop.
So, he spent time in jail-where he shouldn’t have been,
then they transferred him to a looney bin.
All he did was sleep and get medication,
and he wrote poetry and did meditation.
Now he is out with two year’s probation,
and he is struggling with his situation.
The government is helping him out a bit,
but Jim looks for work-he doesn’t quit.
Although he has a natural gift for writing,
he is willing to do jobs that aren’t exciting.
He has a family that he has to support,
and they said he was not fit to stand trial in court.
So now he’s back, and he hopes to move,
he has a lot of chances to prove.
That the mentally ill can be given a chance,
his house was once filled with ants.
His home that he had is seeing foreclosure,
but for his writing, he needs exposure.
People don’t realize that he has a gift,
they stigmatize illness and give him short shrift.
How do I know all these things about Jim?
because I’ve been in the same boat as him.
I’m less likely to judge because of my past,
and God is the judge who judges last.
If we judge others, we will be too,
don’t throw stones it comes back to you.
And so welcome home don’t look back!
It is time to get your life back on track!
(Dedicated to the memory of Jim Corcoran, who died of natural causes.)
__________
​
THE HEALTH OF THE MIND
Kathy Jo Bryant
United States
Happiness and awesome surroundings
Love and joy around us abounding
Are strongly coveted with much desire
Like when you're cold, getting warm by a fire
But in many places despair doth reign
Folk's minds aren't well, no blessing, just bane
Many crowded together no place for peace
There's so much noise that will never cease
Depression rules with an ugly hand
There's just so much, none understand
Please look for ways to calm a troubled mind
There are many great ways to be so kind
You can often speak sweet soothing words
That can sound so sweet like singing birds
Just open your heart and brighten the days
Of saddened hearts in hundreds of ways!
__________
​
HAVE YOU EVER FELT THE MOON CRY?
Christina J.
London, UK
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Garrow-King-Garrowlan-books/dp/B086PMZQR3
​
I have worn the night.
​
I've watched Selene
drive her chariot
across the edge of heaven
and seen Hemera's dying breath
breathe out the stars.
I have borne the cloak that Nyx
had placed across my heart
and lost myself in Hypnos' arms
as I danced with Thanatos,
for I have worn the night.
​
So, if I ask you anything
then I will ask you this;
have you ever seen the stars
and wondered why
that all you ever wished for
has only served to bite?
​
Have you ever felt the moon cry
whilst wearing well the night?
___________
​
FALLEN BRANCHES
Amanda Nicholson
https://amandasteelwriter.wordpress.com
You dropped into the river like a fallen branch
Floating there for a while
Waiting for a passer-by to fish you out
But the ducks and riverboats captured their attention
Nobody stopped to notice the fallen branch
Or pondered how you used to be part of an oak tree
Strong and unshakeable, even in the harshest of storms
But alone, you sunk to the bottom of the river
Unable to float back to the surface
No way of ever reconnecting if you did
__________
​
THE TEARS WERE UNINTENDED
Rose Menyon Heflin
Wisconsin, USA
The tears were unintended, but they fell like rain, nonetheless, that cold February graveside drizzle paling in comparison. Someone put a hand on my shoulder in comfort, and I flinched violently away, jerking angrily, embarrassed by my outburst, by my wracking, mournful sobs, which split the air like thunder, but unable to control them, despite my best efforts. I wanted to be by myself then, not out of chagrin and shame, but greed and selfishness - to have one final moment to share with you alone.
Cold winter and heart
My tears eclipse the raindrops
Memories fall hard
On ground gaping like the sky
The clouds and I weep as one
__________
​
LUCKY NUMBERS
Grace Garrison
USA
https://www.instagram.com/missgracegarrison/
1, 2, 3, 4, remember it’s inside your head.
Stay above water with whispers of “so it goes.”
4, 3, 2, 1, why won’t you ignore it instead?
And you cannot help but follow that tangled thread,
so down you go the deep, dark rabbit hole you chose.
1, 2, 3, 4, remember it’s inside your head.
Check it twice over to be sure of what’s ahead
(though it may sound a little crazy you suppose).
4, 3, 2, 1, why won’t you ignore it instead?
Keep this, photograph that, preserve the long-lost dead:
a ritual for a past that can never close.
1, 2, 3, 4, remember it’s inside your head.
And you try to be perfect while your hands have bled,
wondering how the pressure just grows and echoes.
4, 3, 2, 1, why won’t you ignore it instead?
There you are drowning in all that remains unsaid,
a puppet who’s strung up by invisible foes.
1, 2, 3, 4, remember it’s inside your head.
4, 3, 2, 1, why won’t you ignore it instead?
__________
​
IN TIMES OF MADNESS
Nolo Segundo
In a time of madness,
When insanity is scratched
Onto canvas by angry painters
And sold for peanuts while
They breathe but when long
Dead of too much drugs, then
100 million will go flying away
For a picture without beauty
Or humanity or even truth—
For that suicidal artist was
Sainted and now sworn by
All the little experts who
Happily declare his greatness.
In a time of madness, how
Will the sane find meaning
When art is the emperor
Without clothes, naked
And butt ugly but none
Dare speak the truth:
That there is no truth—
Just anger and hate and
Febrile, unfertile ugliness.
In times of madness, people
Follow shells, moving voids,
And have burnt all the maps
And squashed every compass.
They follow only one god, as
It impregnates them with a
Myriad of fears and delusions,
And soon they turn to murder:
A reign of terror, a pogrom,
A civil war, a genocide… or
A simple push of the button.
___________
​
SAN JUAN DE DIOS
patron saint of the mentally ill and Granada
Karen DuBert
Grenada, Spain
Born before your time
—something you would never know—
eventually history would perceive;
intervening centuries would reveal that
sitting among the outcast
welcoming the broken,
embracing the mentally ill
you were the voice in Granada’s wild-ness.
You leaned against a door of ignorance,
shoved against misunderstanding,
rejected superstition
to embrace a little mystery.
Your compassion for the sick of heart and mind
challenged demonizers,
gained you contempt,
and gathered misfits to collapse at your feet.
More like your Master than you knew,
you wore the robe of mental breakdown—
proving your weakness was His strength.
Now the road named for you,
the basilica, that Temple of Love to God,
the icons of your co-suffering
with the least and with Him
sprinkle this city with reflections
of eternal candles
lighting the vision of God’s Hand
in the life of a broken man.
__________
​
INNER SPACE
Karuna Mistry
United Kingdom
https://karunacreations.wordpress.com/
They say outer space is the final-most frontier
But equally the inner space – between one’s ears
Through nurturing one’s personal mental state
In wellbeing and mind fullness – to not vacate
The secret to meditation is to focus attention
On an object or a subject of one’s inclination
To withdraw from the senses and disengage
Only to find refreshment when re-engaged
Seek out a secluded place, say under a tree
Ideally and preferably away from the city
Sitting position padded and cross-legged
Focus on the self is where one is headed
Without any distraction or disturbance
Breathe long and chant sacred mantras
Withdraw senses like a tortoise its limbs
For this is where the power of yoga begins
To gain one’s clarity and peace of mind
To claim back quality pieces of time
To connect with nature and the earth
To connect with God and the universe
An ancient art known for eons of years
A time-tested practice to end all fears
Saints and sages acted through the ages
Journey the same path despite the changes
Reference: Bhagavad Gita – chapter 6
__________
​
JONATHAN, 1990-2018
for my sister and brother
Merryn Rutledge, Ed. D
New England, USA
https://twitter.com/Merrynrevisions
After prowling the loveless pen where his birth mother held him,
he found a wider world in you.
A toddler runs, whole body laughing
except for eyes that wear a startled look from early loss.
Bullied for his brilliance and outbursts of dismembering grief,
he absorbed his peers’ assurance of unworthiness
while giving out unguarded love, as when he touched
our mother’s cracked cheeks and keened that she would die and leave us.
Hungry to learn the world by heart,
he hunted fossils, wrote a book when he was nine,
befriended Hell’s Angels who crashed a peace march
he was walking with a Buddhist monk,
fed and stroked the wounded animals at the refuge,
even the slit-eyed snakes and armadillos.
Later, in AA, he cupped his ear to his brethren’s hard shells
to listen to the ocean roar of their souls’ motion.
Now that he is gone, I meet his avatars in young men
in subways, airports, city streets–
the ones who decorate themselves with earrings, chains
and tattoos patterned like snakeskin.
Once I would have disregarded them as freaks.
Now I know to love them as they are.
If there is such a thing as resurrection, it was your raising Jon
and though he stumbled into darkness more than once,
you kept a steady gaze on his better selves
until he was ready to grant himself a share of love.
__________
​
DEATH DAY BIRTHDAY
Mike Ball
Massachusetts, USA
https://www.facebook.com/harrumph
Allow me the pretense (and the comfort)
Of coincidence upon my own day.
Yes, we knew each other both deep and wide
Way back when both of us had much hair,
Hers long and straight, mine blond cotton candy.
A peril of an overdue search engine
Is Find A Grave as the premier result.
A year younger, she died two decades past.
I don’t know why or even how she died,
I do know when, my 41st birthday.
Allow me just that one coincidence.
She was brilliant and, well, crazy, she said.
We used to call that manic-depressive
Before the clinical, cold bipolar.
Her wrists witnessed several attempts in blood
To release her internal suffering.
If she even thought of me on that year,
She surely would have known my natal day,
But allow me the coincidence, please.
Her young heart may have simply clutched too hard.
Cancer might have crushed her that very day.
She may have lost on the nearby two-lane
To a pickup crossing the center line.
No matter how alert her mind had been
I don’t accept the portent of that date,
Only one of hundreds that very year.
Coincidence and don’t say otherwise.
Anything else is vanity…and grief.
With loose-ended demise she cannot haunt.
__________
​
EMOTIONS
Najma Nasser Bhatti
Sindh Pakistan
Desires are like venom,
Behold your thoughts,
Just like a captive,
Emotions are fire,
Which may sometimes burn
your honour,
Emotions speak just like,
Sunset sky has thousands words,
Depend up to you,
What you want to be?
Dangerous or powerful one,
Emotions are like oceans,
Which has no destiny,
Sometimes happy, sometimes sad,
There should no reason to be relax,
Come on stand like strong fort,
Once you learn command on emotions,
You will be ever victorious.
___________
​
MIND IN BODY
Joanne Bowles
Sussex, UK
The saying is…
Mind AND body
Surely the saying should be Mind IN body.
A small difference that could make a profound difference
Haven't you often thought it strange how the two are separated medically.
The mind is very much IN body. Isn't it?
There must be a better way to approach how we treat people with mental health issues
How we're treating our minds reflects how we're treating our bodies and I'm sure
you will agree how we're treating our bodies reflects how we're treating our minds
Let's be mindful about how we tackle this issue
It's time for our conscious minds to subconsciously promote combined wellbeing.
We can no longer
Continue to live
in this unconscious haze of indifference.
The mind and body are so intrinsically connected more so than we've ever realized
and therefore, the new approach should be
Mind IN body .
No more time to be mindless
Diagnosing any conditions are about looking at the bigger picture.
Communicating how
the healed body can affect the mind and how the healed mind can affect the body
has to be the new way.
We are currently so focused on healing our planet with climate changes at present,
let's also start to heal the people that live in it too.
A fundamental lifestyle change with huge benefits for our society.
__________
​
RUNNING RED
Julie A. Dickson
New Hampshire, USA
Stark white handkerchief he handed to her
suggested surrender
to wipe at the corner of bloodied lips
as if by accident
this had occurred rather than by hand
raised and struck
She peered down at this crimson smear
would never wash
out, not from white cotton, nor memory
permanent stain
slashed like the knife held to white skin
trickle of blood
mesmerized, hypnotized her face blank
but for single tear
rolling silently down plump brown cheek
wrists running red
__________
​
PANDEMIC FRIENDSHIP
Karol Nielsen
New York, United States
I didn’t see a single friend for a year and a half during the pandemic. My midtown Manhattan office closed, and I began working remotely from my parents’ house in Connecticut. I went into the city to check on my coop and pick up my mail but the most I did was eat outside at neighborhood restaurants—all alone. I kept up with friends through texts, calls, and social media but I didn’t make any plans. I usually wait for my friends to initiate things, and nobody asked to meet up. Everyone was hunkered down. I finally moved back to my Upper East Side coop and an old friend wanted to get together after his trip through Portugal, Spain, and France. We had dated for several years when he moved to New Orleans, and it didn’t last. We hadn’t seen each other for several years, but it was like old times when we met for drinks and then dinner at a Korean place. We talked about poetry and writing, teaching, and mutual friends from our urban writers’ colony that had been a second home for years. He wanted to come over for ice cream afterwards, but I needed to go home. It was intense to see my first friend after so long and I needed to decompress alone.
__________
​
WHO OWNS THESE BONES
Matthew Donovan
USA
For reasons that lie beyond all I might find,
my mind decided it was time for a cleansing
fire. Tortured and fried from inside; behind
wide eyes. Victimized, tried, and capsized
beneath a brine of frightful insights.
Sentenced to pulse pumping high. Tight
stomach convulsing and tied. Only flight
could fight the pyres of my own false truths.
Each day and each night’s cold illusions
of this life’s ultimate conclusions pose threats
with no viable solutions. I want only absolution.
New man in my mirror, faking.
For atonement I cry alone, shaking.
No way known to take a stone
from my throat and break it.
Tell me if you’ve known delusions
that dethroned your constitution.
Making the days cold, grey and confusing.
A great weight holding me. It fed an endless drone in me.
Each day’s waking look I’d take, its draining space enfolding me.
On the twentieth century’s ultimate day a delicate fate enfolded me.
As patient as Satan’s baking hatred like he stands over, scolding me.
Take thy beak from off my neck again and free the gold in me!
Father’s pay keeps care away; no doctors fit to chauffeur me.
Nine reasons I believed my deepest doubts would all grow old with me.
Insurance just a lie
that could not break me from life’s vacancy.
My age just two-times-ten,
engrossed in fear and sex’s latency.
I pray but no one stays. There’s yet no saviors in this play.
Only an undone son wishing to shout that I have won this day.
Or else I’ll rip the sun, possessions, memories and the soul from me
and taste the steel as daddy’s sapping gun pierces its hole in me.
Ever been flown from all notions of home?
Sown seeds for growing spring tones?
Placing new cornerstones that get thrown in oceans?
As hopelessness spins cyclones, churning waves of unknowns,
postponing all strokes toward the host of your goals?
Well…I no longer know who owns these bones.
__________
​
PARITY
Michele Mekel
Pennsylvania, USA
https://www.instagram.com/ShaktiEnergy/
“What number is the pain?”
they ask me in the ER.
“On a scale of 1 to 10?”
They mean, of course, physical discomfort,
such as that thrumming intensely
through my abdomen.
But why don’t they also ask
about my other hurts
in the same way?
The agony of your leaving,
for example—
what number was that?
Perhaps, how I’d quantify
the misery endured
the summer of suicidal ideation?
Or the suffering of living
in a world set on
pulling itself apart?
Don’t these afflictions
deserve an intensity score,
just the same?
Maybe, we simply don’t want to know—
as we’ve no pills or patches
to ease such distress.
__________
​
SICK AND TIRED
Sarfraz Ahmed
United Kingdom
https://www.instagram.com/sarfrazahmedpoet/
https://twitter.com/Sarfraz76194745
https://www.linkedin.com/in/sarfrazahmedcareersadviser/
​
Sick and tired
Weary of these nightmares
That pulsate
Fill me with anxiety and hate
The rigid anticipation
A sensation that flows.
Takes me to places
Where no one needs to go
Hallucinating and out of control
Left alone once again
With nothing but my demons
That I cannot control.
The cigarette ash
The alcohol stains
A steady flow of ecstasy
Drips constantly into my veins.
And here I am once more
Enslaved
A victim of a crime
An addiction that I did not create
Alone again once more
Suffering and full of heartache.
__________
​
MY POP-POP E.J. “THE SNAKEMAN”
Evan Yandrisovitz
United States
https://www.facebook.com/evan.yandrisovitz
​
Voracious vipers slithering around your half-beating heart,
absorbing the energy from your grease-soaked hand.
I yearn to be like you Pop-Pop, your counterpart.
​
We’d launch the PlayStation, smile, and push start.
I hoped the time I spent with you on that ripped up couch would
expand, but the voracious vipers slithered too soon around your
half-beating heart.
​
You knew every snake and reptile. You owned every book and stored every chart
in those cramped little dressers. I snatched the books coated with oiled fingerprints, your brand.
I attempted to be like you Pop-Pop, your counterpart.
​
Bullied because you had no father, but you were smart.
You proved them wrong. You raised a family of five, owned land,
and even played guitar and vocals for “The Happy Yanks,” your band.
until the voracious vipers slithered around your half-beating heart.
​
Despite my yearnings, we are still miles apart.
Your strengths are my weaknesses, trapping me in quicksand
as I consider everything, I’d need to do to be your counterpart.
​
I cannot play instruments or sing songs without strain.
Despite having your books, I don’t have your brain.
I like wearing clothes, not a mechanic’s outfit
and I sure cannot make any sense of a tool kit.
​
I can’t work my ass off without applause,
or experience life without caring about laws.
Or shovel coal on those windy winter days like a human smokestack
not caring about the pain or arthritis in my back.
I won’t just eat hotdogs, potatoes, and delicious sweets
or hoard every box, every cobweb, and all the damn receipts
from movies you collected and shared with me.
Oh, if only I could live my life so carefree.
I don’t want my passions and desires to take advantage of my soul
and whittle down my body like I have no self-control.
As they did to you, leaving you bound to your bed for four years
making your declining health one of your family’s greatest fears.
I’m sorry Pop-Pop, but I can’t be your counterpart.
Though I don’t think I need to. There is only one E.J. “The Snakeman”
and I don’t need to become you to be like you.
I want to take those memories and spread the love you delivered to the world, but I won’t be your counterpart.
Hell, the way you lived made sure no one could.
__________
​
ANTS
F. Kate Langan
Canada
https://www.facebook.com/fkatelangan
https://fkatelanganauthor.wordpress.com
​
There is no poison
Strong enough
To control the ants
That march up my spine
Encircle my throat
Line up on each side of my jaw
And punch a furrow into my brow.
Each insect is determined
To deposit its black bag or worms
Inside my brain, and I am powerless
Against their onslaught.
The doctors just call me crazy
And I take their pills,
But I am the canary
In the coalmine
Of twenty-first century society
__________
​
HARDLY
Morrow Dowdle
North Carolina, USA
in the mirror she can believe
that she looks healthy
or even heavy
the glass plane too close
to the emotional filters
of perception
it is only in the photograph
hard and fixed as the bell
which cannot un-ring
in which she finally sees
the suicide planes of face
the blind slats of chest
the coat hanger of shoulder
bones fit only for a closet
a pathetic collection
that somehow conjured
the round boy sitting with her
in the bathtub
and the steadfast milk
stew of hormone
and shed flesh
his loyal smile shows
he knows nothing of hunger
the one resource she hoards
strange creator
giving everything else
to what she makes
making sure
they clean
their plates
___________
​
SPOTIFY SONG
Sudakshina Kashyap
Assam, India
https://www.linkedin.com/in/sudakshina-kashyap-she-her-77aa4b1b5
https://www.instagram.com/sudakshina_kashyap/
http://sudakshinakashyap.blogspot.com/
When anxiety slides into my
Spotify playlist,
I gently tap the play button.
Anxiety amplifies the volume
by 10 decibels,
steadily decreases it down
and pauses briefly.
Anxiety rewinds the music effortlessly
to tango with depression
and they reinvent a song—
​
Play. Pause. Rewind.
​
Father asks me to stop being so sad,
but sad isn't an organ of depression.
My mind is an oval case
and depression is a reactant
causing chemical reactions
with my caustic thoughts
but there is no catalytic chamber,
so they upheaval and burst open
into a violent disaster,
because
depression finds death in life
and sadness finds a reason.
​
Father asks me to live my life,
but my life is a contraption
which has been twisted
and bent out of normal shape.
It is a barrel containing
anonymous voices and similar visages;
they cluster around like octopuses
and urge me to get out of my room
because they probably know
I'm imprisoned and claustrophobic.
When father tells me to go out
and have fun with friends,
I tell him that friends are humans
and humans are
complicated metaphors.
They stretch like a trampoline
and play a music so soft
but leave a free verse with no tune.
And fun is a crummy bed
I always distract myself from sleeping in.
Father asks me of the reasons
behind my rusted mental state,
and I say,
depression is an infant
with no baby teeth.
A Dalmatian with no dark spots,
A damask with no patterns woven into it,
AN ILLNESS WITH NO ROOT CAUSE.
Depression is Casanova,
it makes love to my mind,
and screws it slowly, then rapidly.
Father tells me to breath,
And yes, I do.
But depression is a noose,
it keeps tightening more than often
and I can barely breath.
My mind is a carcass and depression wraps it up like a cellophane.
Father,
depression is a tombstone,
inscribed by suicide notes,
laid over the grave of my mind.
I enter my room,
write another poem
while depression braids my hair
and plays hide and seek with my mind;
and I scream—
STOP
STOP
STOP
but depression is a strict pedagogue
and it swings me like a pendulum—
Left and right.
Left. Right.
Left.
So it kisses my stamped knives,
caresses my hand to
ooze red watercolor and sings—
Play. Pause. Rewind.
__________
​
ODD CHILD
Jane Fitzgerald
United States
He was a skittish child, timid and vulnerable
His big still eyes reflected dark dread like
a night creature suddenly stunned by light
His teacher nurtured him, sensing him alone, adrift
like a skiff on a vast sea, distancing him from others
The children fled at three, but the room held a secret
She spied him cowering, balled up in a corner
trying to be as invisible as the fear that froze him
She quietly questioned, are you afraid to leave
The child quivered, they are making me go to
a psychiatrist today, it might be a mean monster
Understanding, she whispered, all you do is talk to
someone who cares, that's all, just talk, nothing else
He slowly uncoiled, anxiety and tension
airing from his body, unknown horrors allayed
He shouldered his backpack
weighted with books and demons
and headed out the door
A small sigh lightening his load
__________
​
WHEN VULTURES LOOM
In Memory of Philip Heaps
1988-2015
Shelly Blankman
Maryland, USA
Philip was a tall and lean man of 27 with sandy hair,
a twin raised in a loving family. He made his friends
laugh, his teachers proud. Perhaps blinded by his kindness,
no soul sensed his solitude among a social swarm.
When vultures finally descended, Philip ended his life.
But questions lingered. Praise at his service spilled
like red wine, staining souls that tears could not wash away.
Shame mutes truth until it’s too late. Vultures soar in silence.
__________
​
4AM
Dona McCormack
Ohio, USA
https://www.instagram.com/itcomesdowntochance/
Can’t sleep, can’t
get comfortable.
Skin crinkles
like a dirty shirt
Old breath moves
in my nose
stale air
Nothing has worked
Wood floor
presses cold
against my soles
Sheets pull off
easy from the mattress,
as though they were ready
They billow in the dark
and I smell you
escaping
your ghost
stealing out of the fabric
Linens tangle
in my fists
Goodbye smells like
laundry
at 4am
__________
​
TANTRIC CHANT
Thomas Piekarski
Mansplaining strictly prohibited.
Mountain peak tantamount.
Explorative retorts tutorial.
Instant impression immanent.
Sensory sessions seedless.
Patronizing servants lionized.
Decision's revision impending.
Ablution possibly soluble.
Presumptive oratorio triumphant.
Perceived time dissolute.
Prudence generally accepted.
Remaindered brains entombed.
Finished product demolished.
Preeminent evidence detected.
Scientific edicts erected.
Astrological alchemy revived.
Infinite love included.
Safe havens vanish.
Trepidation whited out.
Death defies demigods.
Age fictive revisionism.
Prayer usurps desperation.
Atmospheric spirits ubiquitous.
Rock displaces sod.
__________
​
WALDMANN’S TALE
Laura Grevel
United Kingdom
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCx1dH7vxwIljVxPd8fs_9xQ
https://www.facebook.com/LauraHGrevel
This world’s a bone yard of bicycle parts:
frames footless and wheelless crying for friends,
frames waiting for hands with grease in their veins.
This world is a bone yard of pandemic hearts:
valves bloodless and cheerless waiting for love,
limbs waiting for touch with time-withered locks,
waiting for something, for someone to come,
for something to break, for this earth to quake!
When out of the woods rides a Waldmann who smiles.
He’s tanned and he’s fit from riding for miles,
on his strong trusty bike, what’s not to like?
From Wien to Berlin, he zick-zacks through Czech,
round mountains and caves where stones call his name,
smiling at birdlings, at firs and at bears,
he’s out on a lark with quite a long start.
A 700 kilometer hark!
One week to Berlin, one week back to Wien!
He sleeps in the ferns and does with earthworms confirm,
that life is a park. Ein schöner Park! he remarks.
Just think:
one week to Berlin, one week back to Wien,
skimming through meadows with bees at his toes,
singing through woods with belief in his teeth.
The bone yard of bikes is a wealth and a crown.
So, leap on your steed, cinch together your parts,
join Waldmann right now and criss-cross this hearth!
Ride forth! Depart!
Zick-zack the earth, weave leaves in your mane,
sing to the sky a new lullaby,
paint simplify on your Versailles!
Sing to the sky! Sing as you fly!
​
*Wien = Vienna in German
*Waldmann =forest man
*Ein schöner Park! = A beautiful park!
*Berlin and Wien should be pronounced to rhyme with “teen”.
_________
​
TIC TAC TOE
Artemis
California, USA
https://sites.google.com/view/artemis-writing-portfolio/about
Crick, Crack, Snap.
I draw an X,
You draw an O,
In in this game
Of tic tac toe.
You went first.
Now you’re ahead.
Crick, crack, snap.
I just wanna go back to bed.
Crick, crack, snap.
This is no game,
I feel insane,
And I wish it would
STOP.
Crick, Crack, Snap.
My neck is spinning.
My neck is the O
I can’t duck my head low,
When they’re all watching
My neck
Go and go.
I have
A tic disorder:
I am the X,
But I was given an O.
Can’t you see?:
X never marks the spot,
When a simple game for you,
Is a losing bet for me.
__________
​
GRANDPA’S SECRET
Betty Naegele Gundred
California, USA
When we arrive
at my grandparents’ farm
in the summer of ’59
a difference stirs the air.
Grandma gets up from the swing
to greet us . . . alone.
Grandpa does not rise to pick us up,
no prickly whiskers tickling our faces.
We find him rocking
in a chair perched upon the porch,
listless, quiet, staring off in the distance –
he barely nods hello.
Why isn’t he pumping
water from the well,
trucking in the hay,
taking the cows to pasture?
My ten-year-old ears
can overhear whispers,
Mom and Grandma
in clandestine conversation . . .
“What’s a nervous breakdown?”
I ask my mother.
She turns around surprised
and hushes me.
“Oh, it’s nothing!” she says,
tensing a smile,
“Grandpa’s just tired.”
__________
​
AROUND MY DAY IN SMILES
Lakshman Bulusu
New Jersey, USA
https://mail.google.com/mail/u/1/#inbox/FMfcgzGpFqdCPjZJBgqvBfLDNlQPcBzp
I live with a mental disability,
OCD, Bipolar, and Depression--too hard to comprehend;
It shatters each day of mine like fallen pieces
of glass, that I hope will join one day.
The tablets with their counts,
arranged in order of weekdays and weekends;
make me weary of taking them.
I feel like owing them attention.
As the day closes into night and
I cuddle up in my bed fast asleep,
it all unfolds in smiles.
Morning:
I discover I have to come to terms with my life,
and try to navigate my day around smiles--with the expectation that
my suffering which is primary would become secondary.
I wake up looking at the coffee maker,
thinking of hot fumes of fresh coffee.
I have the coffee with its chocolaty aroma and
a toasted crispy sesame bagel cut in half,
each bite bigger than the previous one.
Then I enjoy taking a shower with background music,
that brings in the gold of the morning.
I sit down to work, check my tasks for the day, and update my status.
I thrill at my boss’s feedback, good job, keep it up.
I smile the first time that now is primary.
Afternoon:
I relish my lunch, take a walk,
with the afternoon sun aligning vertically over my head.
I finish up the remainder of my tasks for the day and
join my family with enthusiasm akin to that of a newborn poet.
As I embrace my spouse and hold my kids in my arms,
I feel new warmth, a sense of a big moment.
At times when I am reminded of my suffering,
I whisper to myself, let it go, let it go, and shallow the depth of it.
I smile the second time that now is primary.
Evening:
I venture out with my family; cheer my kids as they start playing
bubbles, scooter rides, and cycling with their friends.
In the course of an evening walk,
my thoughts, range from emotions to variations of current affairs;
constancy of change to fidelity of love.
What once wandered like bubbles, now seems to take a freefall of ideas
and fill up my mind as pieces of wit.
I smile the third time that now is primary.
Night:
As sunset slowly creeps into night,
just as I feel my important tasks for the day are done,
the finish line seems stretching and distant.
I muse about the pieces of wit within my mind,
question myself, "Who else can discern their meaning?"
One particular thought seems to question me back,
"Can broken thoughts join broken hearts?"
I come to the conclusion that,
"Love is all about reciprocation and trust."
I smile the fourth time that now is primary.
Who knows that I am challenged?
Even though anyone does come to know,
what effect is it going to have?
I think my smiles answer these questions.
I know that I am challenged and
try not to ruin the ambience present.
I calm myself into sleep with the assurance
I can go around another new day in smiles.
____________
​
SOBER, WILD, AND FREE
Rachel Miller
Canada
https://www.instagram.com/collectivemindca/
https://www.facebook.com/thecollectivemindca/
​
The more sober I become
The wilder my mind gets
And I’m not serious all the time
I’m actually having fun
Curious about this reality
I so desperately want to avoid—
Don’t we all?
Numbing ourselves away from it
With distraction and decay
What is it we want to avoid?
And so, I venture forth
Let this wild mind run free
And what I’ve found is
though I feel a bit crazy
It’s more fun this way
Not detained
By physical need
To be normal
To be calm
To be dumbed down
To be dulled down
To be appropriate
To be manageable
To be constrained
Just as I am
I let myself be
Sober, wild, and free
__________
​
THE STARLIGHT THAT RETURNED TO HIS EYES
Genevieve Ray
England
https://linktr.ee/GenevieveRayPoet
@genevievefirepoet - Instagram
​
I have loved him,
In patient silence.
Learning his dimensions,
The galaxies of his mind.
On first meeting,
Seeing the glint,
Spark light of hope.
Quickly diminished.
The soft vowels and consonants,
This was a candle that lost its fire,
This was a shout that's now a whisper.
The essence still there, but so much lost.
What to do when seeing lost potential?
Mutter in patronizing pitying sorrow?
Over challenge and let them fall fallow?
Or to raise up in sincere gentleness?
Introduce an astronaut,
To the vastness of the universe.
Let the natural verve, become pilot.
Watching him fly to the stars.
Ad Astra my quiet love.
You exist now in peace,
With the ever-changing cosmos.
Expanding, knowing what you're worth.
A love that lives in precious silence.
For the starlight that returned to your eyes.
Worth every treasure on this Earth.
__________
​
THE OVERTHINKER
(Don’t read too much into it…)
Emma J Nokes
Worcestershire, England
Head so full, creative, resourceful
thoughts smashing through my brain like a jet plane,
Forceful.
Think it, feel it, don’t feel it, don’t think it.
Just stop, don’t stop, use it, ignore it.
Worst case scenario, catastrophizing
Job loss, homeless, life lost, agonizing.
Crippling anxiety, why me, can’t be
just me, must be, fairly common?
People get through it, daily.
Snap out, shake up and feel the guilt,
for others it’s harder
you’ve got a roof, things and food in your larder
Can’t sleep, must sleep need to keep a brave face
keep going, go to bed go to work go home, dream chase
Advice? write it down, draw it, sing it till I
feel like all the pain is being treated with morphine
from the creativity, seeping from within my soul, but it
won’t work. Just what clue, have they got about me, about my lot?
​
Counsel in friendship all great ‘til
they jump ship and then, what?
everything’s still as bad if not worse
because now I feel the curse of “what did I do wrong?”
no reply, no call, it’s been minutes… why so long?
Their status updated, with friends tagged who wouldn’t normally
be given the time of day, now they’re ‘#family’
purposely not including me
Nights out missed,
not invited. Invited but, only out of pity so,
why should I put myself out? I’ll stay in bed
and think about how they didn’t invite me,
instead.
I’ll think it, I’ll feel it (don’t think it, don’t feel it)
I’ll just stop (don’t stop)
I’ll use it (ignore it)
Don’t read too much into it
__________
​
MIXED MESSAGES
Gary Beck
New York, USA
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorGaryBeck/
The President says,
“Go home.
We were robbed.
But go home.
You’re good people.
I love you.
But we’re victims of fraud.
Go home.
And if you stop on the way
and rampage through
the Capitol Building,
the way they do
in Venezuela,
other distressed countries,
you are still good people.
I love you.
Go home.”
__________
​
THE DAILY BATTLE
John Ganshaw
New York, USA
The Sun so gently rising, sneaking up
and peeking in through the window,
casting its warm rays upon my sleepy,
tired, and weary bones. Awakening me
from my tumultuous sleep, chasing the
demons that have been haunting me
throughout the night. I turn my back in
hopes this pestilent pest will go away. Allow
me to stay in here in the solitude I quietly
beckon. Provide me peace to embrace my
pitiful existence. Unwilling and unwanting to
face the days and those who inhabit them. Let
me rest in a world of my own. Go away and
leave me alone. Why it won’t take this hint I
do not know. Stop bothering me, can’t you see
I have no interest in taking part in the brightness
you cast. Relentless you are! Hindering my plans
to bathe in my self-pity. Forcing me to abandon
my wish to embrace this sorrowful life.
Your persistence renders me useless to fight
and I must succumb to your wishes. I sit up, then
stand up, acknowledging your win. Today, I will
push my fight with depression aside and give myself to you
__________
​
TODAY
R. A. Hutchins
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, UK
https://www.instagram.com/ra_hutchins_author/
https://www.facebook.com/RAHutchinsAuthor/
https://authorrachelhutchins.com
​
Today,
The day
It has to be.
Determination, fueled by desperation.
Pain, Breathe
Shooting, Breathe
Dizzy, Breathe.
Not today.
Not to be.
Today,
The day
Please let it be.
Resolution, no regression.
Pain, Fight
Spreading, Fight
Darkness, Fight.
Please God.
But no.
​
Today,
The day?
Wait and see.
Hesitation, hope wavering.
Pain, why?
Scorching, why?
Engulfed, why?
Not now.
But ever?
Today,
Another day
What will be …
Resignation, absent of relief.
Pain, embrace
Consuming, embrace
Blackness, embrace.
Hope lost.
Gone forever?
Today,
The Day
It has to be.
A ray, a glimmer.
Pain, Exhale
Spasm, Exhale
Headrush, Exhale.
Today.
The day.
Foot connects with floor.
Freedom
Regained
Life
Renewed
Hope
Restored.
_________
​
BELIEVE
Pratibha Savani
United Kingdom
https://www.instagram.com/pratibhapoetryart/
https://www.facebook.com/pratibhapoetryart
get up
stand tall
don't let anyone tell you
you'll fall
you are the miracle
inside
willing your way
to s u c c e e d
you keep telling yourself
'you can do it!'
'try' is not a word you need
no 'ifs', 'buts' or 'can't'
in your vocabulary
"YES I CAN!"
will be your sacred mantra now!
repeating it each time
when you hit the ground!
no one can tear you down
not this time round!
when your mind is set
h I g h
and you believe
you can achieve
and be that shining star
aim for that goal
that you want to receive
it's in your grasp
just a MINDSET away
those POWER words
are set in play
only
when you
b e l I e v e
__________
​
REMEMBER
Adrian David
When your spirit fades
and your soul is broken...
When all hope is lost
and you can fight no more…
When your eyes flow with tears
and your heart is ripped apart...
When pain overwhelms you
and you can’t suffer any longer...
When you fall prey to distress
and are on the verge of succumbing...
When you feel like giving up
and finally decide to quit...
Remember — You were the sperm that won.
The one who raced against millions
to enter this beautiful world.
You were born a champion.
__________
​
TURNING AROUND
Pankhuri Sinha
India
So easy to turn it around!
Make an allegation of a
Condition, non existing in the person!
And leave them to prove their innocence!
Make a total victim of the person!
In an age when awareness
And empathy for mental health
Wellness, deviance and challenges
Is at a new height
Why use it as a cover for crime?
Totally possible my dears
To stalk someone and upon their question
Call them mad! Well, not so much!
Only mentally disturbed!
Don't' believe it?
Open the archives
Look for evidence in strange places
Diaries of women, or even their testimonies
Given sometimes to those confining them
Forcefully treating them
For a disease they don't suffer from
No denying the disease, its real
Its possible, like aids, like cancer
Like covid and its many mutants
But the mind, the human mind
Is so different from the body
Mental life so far apart from the physical
And a mental problem can be invented
So easily, as a pretext to keep
The women away!
From any powerful position
Any governing post or even
Being the head of the family
In charge of the treasury
Bestowing fortune upon the members
Distributing among sons and daughters!
When simple behavior
Simple cross examination
Can reveal so much!
Yet, young girls are labelled
Mentally unbalanced
Just to prevent them
From going places!
Getting things accomplished!
Isn’t it high time
To resolve to never
Do it again !
Never use a disease
As a charge
Just to confine
To arrest growth!
Sure, not a difficult task!
Meticulous investigation
Of all such levied charges
Will reveal all!
Heinous punishment
Good deterrent!
Just as important
As cure for the sick
Is no motivated
Use of medicine
On the fit and fine
For larger gains!
Let’s make the laws
To make this world
Safe, happy and healthy!
__________
​
VOICES INSIDE MY HEAD
Kassie J Runyan
New York, USA
​
help would
be emptied
by others
taken and pushed
lopsided in anger
now friends drift further
and enemies shout
from inside my own head
they tap
tap
tap
against my skill
trying to get out
into the world
shouting and snarling.
the friends
used to quiet them
hush them into
submission
those friends now gone
and the voices run wild
in charge of the narrative
clenching my teeth
and squeezing my eyes
to keep the voices inside.
I breathe in
and out
and the voices
start to calm
to only a dull
roar.
__________
​
BONE
Kassie J Runyan
New York, USA
​
body and mind ache
I enter the world daily
bowing to the weight
__________
​
SPEAK OUT.
Melanie Haagman
United Kingdom
Facebook.com/girlontheedge90
​
There once lived a man who had so much to give,
He had so many reasons to continue to live.
But the world was cruel and the mind unkind,
And internal peace was a challenge to find.
So he battled alone, feared what others may say,
And continued to hide his true sadness away.
Faking a smile was success he achieved,
When he said he was fine, it was always believed.
He wanted to speak but the fear was too strong,
So he battled in silence like nothing was wrong.
No desire to eat, his whole being felt numb,
Even he didn’t recognise the man he’d become.
Soon breathing became a draining chore,
He was so tired but didn’t sleep anymore.
This stayed the same for what felt like forever,
Where life seemed like a hopeless endeavour…
Until one day he picked up the phone,
And discovered right then that he wasn’t alone.
Reassured that he was far from weak,
He broke his silence and started to speak.
And he gained the support that was required,
Now to live, not to die is what he desired.
And through sharing his story and his pain,
He aims to help others to do the same.
​
​
​