The Place I’m In. A poem.
Atmospheric periphery Horizon where oxygen thins Light and dark, yang and yin Moonlight shines upon the rim Skirting stars and floating things Reflects the place and state I’m in Continue reading The Place I’m In. A poem.
Tag: Anxiety
Shades. A poem.
I once found a pair of brand new sunglasses in an elevator. Rather than turn them in, I decided to keep them (terrible of me, I know).
They change the shape of my face when I wear them, almost making me a different person. When they’re on, I almost have a sense of increased confidence and lessened anxiety. Does that happen with you, too? Continue reading Shades. A poem.
Absolution. A Poem.
The sum of all regrets Like dew drops in my hand Drying in the morning sun And leaving nothing left But the air I breathed That filled me up Was good enough Good enough Continue reading Absolution. A Poem.
Rain. A Poem.
I felt the rain more deeply than ever before It flowed like chaotic capillaries down my face It mingled with tears, a salty, alchemical mix It touched my tongue, combined saliva and cotton mouth It washed me clean of tragic irony and bittersweet regret And when it stopped I stood there dripping, alone as always Contemplating when it would fall on me again Would I accept its cold, cleansing embrace Or would I shrink away to a warmer, dryer place This poem is another experiment for me. I’ve been trying out different free verse structures and meters, and … Continue reading Rain. A Poem.
Empty. A poem.
My head hurts. As always.
If I drank, I could blame it on something.
Alas, the blame is all me. Continue reading Empty. A poem.
Frail. A poem.
Yep. Like I said, last poem. Depression is a pain in the… Continue reading Frail. A poem.
Deep. A poem.
Down, down, down, I go. I thought once you hit rock bottom the only way was up. Guess I was wrong.
Depression sucks. Continue reading Deep. A poem.
Date Night. A short tale.
The mirror image was unflattering. She had been trying on dresses for the last hour. They always looked better on the rack and in the fitting rooms before she bought them. She knew there was something about the mirrors in stores. Like the ones at carnivals, but warping everything to look better (maybe she should get one installed…). It looked like jeans and a blouse were a better option. Three changes later and she was satisfied. Black skinny jeans (almost a miracle needed to get them on; not quite the parting of the Red Sea, but almost) and a billowy … Continue reading Date Night. A short tale.
The Wait. A poem.
Ever had to wait for an appointment, meeting, etc., where you’ve been unsure of what will happen? Your paranoid thoughts tend to get the better of you. Afterwards you realise they were all for naught, and that everything was always going to be okay.
Stop worrying so much. I should take my own advice, shouldn’t I? Continue reading The Wait. A poem.
Eyes. A Poem.
I’m not sure how some of my poems come to mind, or why they are all so dark.
Oh, yes, I do. It’s because I’m a depressed and anguished soul. Well, that was easy. Next question? Continue reading Eyes. A Poem.
Player. A poem.
I am a poor player With little left to show For the game of life I’ve played One arm behind my back, restrained Here’s a very short poem I wrote a few weeks ago. Not sure why I didn’t publish it then. Had other stuff on my mind, I guess. Continue reading Player. A poem.
The Wellspring
Here is a linked list of every poem I’ve composed on my blog, so far. Hope you like them.
Here’s to the wellspring never running dry. Continue reading The Wellspring
Hole Man. A poem.
Stand still long enough
time slows to a stop
the event horizon
Of a gaping black hole… Continue reading Hole Man. A poem.
Awake. A short tale.
I don’t normally write “flash fiction”, but I could get used to it. Continue reading Awake. A short tale.
Time’s Up. A poem.
Okay, this poem’s a bit dark. But then, I’m a pretty dark person. My poems reflect all aspects of me, not just the happy stuff. (‘Happy stuff?’ I hear you say. ‘When have you ever written happy poems?’ Good point. Scratch what I said earlier.) Continue reading Time’s Up. A poem.
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