This is for Ronovan Writes’ décima challenge and FOWC: Practice. Also, I didn’t mean to make this poem so depressing, but sometimes one can’t help what one wants to write.
When life gives little healing balm,
When to escape I have an itch
And would give anything to switch,
I have to practice being calm.
There’s joy and pain inside each psalm.
I must believe that joy outweighs
Despair, and waits for a surprise,
Available to open eyes —
I’m ready for it to amaze,
But practice patience since pain stays.
This is for Linda G. Hill’s SoCS: Cave.
The human psyche’s cavernous
With many crannies and nooks —
All that’s in a single mind
Could fill up thousands of books!
Confusing it can be to map
Including hidden dangers,
Some people do not make the trek
And from themselves are strangers.
Today’s word challenge is “rage.” I decided to write an acrostic.
Red, fiery, ire-filled
Anger unstilled, no way to
Get it back behind the gate:
Expect extra casualties.
This is for Ronovan Writes’s third décima challenge, using the word MAD. Note: I am not saying you should complain about everything to all or even most people. It’s crucial to be honest with yourself and maybe a few other, trusted people, though. I have learned that through experience.
Anger is dammed, but I’m still mad:
Woe to the one on which it flows!
Hidden inside, it’s poison — throws
A soul into a pit, dark, sad —
Anger can’t be trashed, must be had.
Let it flow through blood and body
Giving valuable energy
When it is not locked in the heart.
Let it out slowly; make a start,
And find freedom in honesty.
I sat down to write a poem related to FOWC: Polite and this came out.
Knock softly on the rooftop:
Will you let in peace,
Or stay with unhappiness?
Brings its own unique peace,
And this spring rain —
It is gentle today.
This is for two of Fandango’s prompts, February Expressions #26, and today’s FOWC: Treatment. Denial of the need for treatment is common in any form of addiction, as well as sometimes denial that there is even a problem. In my experience dealing with an eating disorder, a person might know they have a problem, but they are even more scared of the reason why they turned to the addiction in the first place, the underlying emotions and trauma.
The devil I know is like a black hole
Sucking all light from around it,
Making everything in its surroundings
Feel its crushing, massive weight.
The devil I don’t know, lurks in
Murky depths and even-darker shadows.
I keep telling myself
I can avoid this event horizon.
She thought she might be better in 3 days
Or maybe a week or two, she certainly
wasn’t expecting 3 months, although she
should have been expecting that, I mean,
a fellow patient in the hospital told her
“you could be a model if you gained weight”
if she GAINED weight, that’s how
messed up she was, and deep down,
buried under all the lies she knew it
somewhere in her gut, whose cries she’d
been ignoring, and it was SO HARD
to learn how to listen again and for the
longest time she wondered, “How am I
going to fit food in here when there’s
all this anger taking up the space?”
A cathartic piece for DVerse MTB.