The precious flowers that color and fragrance my world
are somehow lost to me today–no, not just today
for weeks, I am now realizing
I stumble over simple explanations
fret over words and phrases
My flower garden has become a nightmare
a tangled, unkempt patch of weeds
the home of trolls and wicked beasts
all strangling my mind to the point of numbness —
Is this what my future holds?
The digging, digging for the right things to say
If I could bulldoze the entire plot over, I would
and begin anew–an empty garden
Am I still young enough, well-enough?
or will I suffer my grandmother’s fate?
Unable to plant, I will merely pass away
Copyright ©2015 Ravyne Hawke
I exhaust you
I exhaust me too —
this calamity of my mind
leaves a decimated forest in its wake
nothing beautiful flourishes here
And yet, you still love me —
despite the reign of terror
I unleash with voice and hands
the screaming, screaming
and objects aimed at your head —
I am a wildebeest!
In those moments of rage
I am engulfed by fire
my eyes frantically scan
for any exit in sight
but I cannot escape myself
I am trapped inside this mind
as much a hostage to my illness
as you are for loving me
I can’t make this fair for you —
no amount of wishing makes it go away
it’s not a matter of if, but when
I will go off again —
How many times will you put out the fire?
How many times before we are both so exhausted
we are consumed by the flames?
©November 2013, Lori Carlson
As many of my friends know, and now some of you here will know, I am Bipolar with Borderline Personality Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, OCD, and the host of too many phobias. I wrote this poem back in March of 2014. It describes what I go through taking medication for my mental illnesses and still strive to write. I hope you enjoy.
The Persistence of Musing
Oh these bitter pills!
I am divorced
divorced from all my demons
but my muse too!
And then the silence
the unbearable din of silence
so loud, so loud
my ears ring from its Delphian melody
I grow accustomed to the dead air
a synthetic lull —
days become weeks and then months
the delicate balancing of my brain
a tight-rope act — ever so careful
and I wait
Slowly my mind acclimates
and the silence becomes stillness
the din, white noise — Hushed sighs
I hear you breathing
these bitter pills have not murdered you
but I strain against the fog
for each murmur you utter
And there you are, my fallen angel
my dark child
Your words soak into my bones
softly, quickly — you have much to say
for beating against your wings, frenzied
the demonic bats await
And the cycle begins anew
I swallow more pills
brace for the cacophony of silence
the numbness of calm
the peace, I am assured will come
and I mourn the loss of your sighs
your tranquil whispers —
but I know you will keep trying
and I will reach for your voice
over and over and over again
’til death overshadows me
(c) 2014 Lori Carlson
I enter the bedroom, so exhausted from living
and see you lying there, ebony strands on ivory,
your comforter-encased body clinched around my pillow.
If only I could tell you the haunts that keep me from you.
I tremble as I sit upon a corner of the bed, fear crawls in,
leers back and forth between us.
I beg it to leave, to not take the love we share,
to allow you the innocence of one unaffected
by the struggles of a deranged mind.
You stir; your eyes barely open and blink
as you move your head to rest upon my knee.
You inhale and exhale, sighing; I smell of sea salt and fish.
Tired from a day spent worn from demons,
I gently caress your hair. Your eyes close
and fear trembles upon your lips.
Sighing deeply, I tell you all is fine.
You whisper, I know…
but I hear the doubt.