Ptsd poetry anyone?

[TruthSeeker]

Just Because...

Just because I have a high IQ
does not mean I knew it all
I needed to learn life sk...

I like this poem. It shows how your parents indifference negatively impacted you then and even today. I know I'm a sensitive soul....I attribute to my mother being hypercritical. I think hypercritical parents produce supersensitive kids. I know my mother would always say, you are so supersensitive. She was right....I needed a turtle's shell to live with her. Like you, trying to put this stuff behind me....writing and poetry are very helpful. Thank you for listening.:happy:

 

[mumstheword]

Here's one I just wrote in my diary :p

The journey begins ... or continues ... articulating the rollercoaster that is my life

 

[Changing4Best]

It's Early Morn Again

Here I am
wide awake again
wondering if it was something recent
or something from back when
that is keeping me awake.

So much is going on in my life
it is so hard to tell
which part of it, if any,
is at the root of my turmoil
maybe it is just a sound that woke me?

I don't recall any dreams
nor a nightmare
that does not mean there wasn't one
my mind could be just holding it hostage
if there was.

Here I am
awake in the wee hours agian
the kitchen is my friend
along with some peaceful music
I doubt I will get any more sleep.

Sleepy SpiritSong

 

[mumstheword]

The journey begins ... or continues ... articulating the rollercoaster that is my life

Another one I just wrote. My go to, poetry, when it's hard, so hard and hurts so much.

 

[mumstheword]

On that "Messy" theme ...

With a dreadful headful, and sight,
us messy folk,
it cannot be denied,
when born in to chaos, emotionally,
need a way to preserve our sanity.

We run and hide, sometimes,
quickly finding escape, freeze or fight.

Fear puts us in flight,
no end in sight, brain's still in the fight,
so we hide from sight,
amongst thoughts and feelings,
hurts and reading, still reeling,
so, writing,
instead of cleaning.

I'm disordered, I'm told,
I've been sold out,
the truth's out,
distortions abound,
nothing's being found,
amongst all the clutter.

Chaos is now,
always has been,
I know I should clean ...
"but"...
I frown and mutter,
instead.

This shit brings me down.

Hearts are a flutter,
pounding and folding up like fliers;
crumpled and stumped,
discarded,
thrown away,
trying to find a way,
out of this mess, in my head,
just to get through the day.

I want to live another way!
Please, show me the way!

I ran away, as a child,
now, I'm a bit wild.
I'm like, twelve and a day;
I like to play,
even though I'm forty five.

I'm a bit late, developmentally
I used to dissociate, chronically.

Now, our place is like ...
a bomb hit it,
a trauma site,
way too much freeze in fright.

I sit in it,
too much.

In my life,
there's been way too much strife.

Never had a crew; too much,
been such a foo, way, too much,
I did try to do too much,
It cost me ... way ... way, too much.

Energy; Loving-me, I need you,
to fix this racket,
this stew,
before I lose my self, again,
here, in my den.

 

[TruthSeeker]

On that "Messy" theme ...

With a dreadful headful, and sight,
us messy folk,
it cannot be denied,...

This is a great poem....so true....chaos and disorganization breed inner turmoil and mental chaos........makes us believe we are crazy cause that's how it feels but we aren't.....we are normal for the things we endured.

 

[TruthSeeker]

Okay, I have been trying to write a poem a day early in the morning, but work has been inordinately demanding. I was up at 3:00AM and I wasn't journaling or doing any poetry...I was working....and I've been all grumpy today because I didn't get up and journal and write my little limerick or whatever poem....so I'm called to duty now. This is what came to me right before bedtime....

If I were a stranger from outer space,
And I came to Earth to find such a troubled place,
I'd wave my slow down wand so people could stop and face,
the crappy world they've made; and with love I'd replace.
Then I'd wave my wand again, and their negative memories I'd erase.

Is it fair, I wonder, to steal memories of their pain?
Would they be angry, or sad, or would they go insane?
Hasn't their negative energy turned inward and rotted their brain?
I don't know them, what would they want? I think I must refrain,
From helping this poor lot, by removing their deep-seeded pain.

Nite

 

[mumstheword]

Tha

This is a great poem....so true....chaos and disorganization breed inner turmoil and mental chaos.........

Thank you bkinder :-) I've really enjoyed your funny limericks too. Again, anything that helps dispelling the shame, I'm grateful for. It weighs me down and I just want to be lighter, brighter, begone rotten shame. I'm done with thee! (Oh if it were that easy:rolleyes:). But seriously, I've got to get out of this place. Deregulated brain bs PTSD whips me mercilessly, now I need a break. Poetry does that for me.:p:playful::joyful::happy:

 

[TruthSeeker]

Honestly, although I feel silly when I can't find something or I forget....it is normal. I think I make too big a deal of it.

Where are Those Darn Glasses?

My glasses, my glasses, frustrated I said.

Not in the kitchen or on my bed,
Not in the bathroom or in the car,​

Concentrate....they couldn't have gone far,
Feeling dumb, when Bob said, "Look on top of your head!"

 

[littleoc]

Defining Evil

"Not all that sings is good,"
whispered a huddling sparrow.
A quail shuddered, and stood,
remarked: "Rats stole my maternity,
Rats became my sorrow,
And Rats do not sing."


A Rat raised a cup,
And sure she was noticed,
spoke: "We saw it close up,
There was a hunter, after deer.
The go-away bird on firs -- the remotest,
Sang, Go away, go away!"


"Yes," murmured a wolf, in their thralls,
"The go-away bird sings,
But the go-away bird also calls.
The crow never sings, but he helps.
The crow finds our food, but never brings:
He caws, so we go."


Just then the crow took pity.
He cawed, but it sounded just like music.
The sparrow sang, "He's a sly kitty,
helping the wolf to kill us;
He does whatever he will choose -- ick.
He doesn't see the harm."


The crow retorted, his witty livelihood,
He sang a lovely song:
"Not all birds who sing are good,
But not all singing birds are bad.
Dear sparrow, are you not wrong?
You are a bird who speaks in song.


Not all without song are bad,
There are rats, and wolves, and also deer,
And not one sings, nor in darkness clad.
Your fear sees only a small surface.
The truth is that you are ruled by fear:
You trick yourself, through your own song.

You stretched your wings,

But a singing voice reached through the gray,
And plucked you from the sky, like prey."


The sparrow leaned towards the crow.
Could all his singing just be a show?

 

[TruthSeeker]

Defining Evil

"Not all that sings is good,"
whispered a huddling sparrow.
A quail shuddered,...

This is an excellent poem and it made me think. I love your characterization! I like voice poems, they are unique. I could connect with this....as it resounds the questions I'm regularly asking when interacting with others: Who do I trust? Who is being authentic?...who is having a real relationship with me today and is speaking from their heart and their words are honest and caring and not hurtful. This poem spoke to my dysfunctional family and dysfunctional X family....the people there "change" and are motivated by worldly things, pride, big egos, and needing to be the best or in charge...which has eroded my trust. You completely describe the world I live in...and in my case, I'm surrounded by many narcissistic people.....but there are others in my life who are good souls. They are very different from the "shallow unauthentic people that create drama and pain"...and the trusted friends and family are very few. ​

BTW-I have always hated the word evil....like people who believe in evil are misguided. My opinion has changed...maybe .I was misguided-there is evil in the world, and an appropriate place with things and events from the past to use this word.

Nice to wake up to a seriously deep poignant poem that resonates. Thank you!​

 

[TruthSeeker]

Gotta Get Going

Time for work,
time for play,
Got to run
and start my day.

Lots to do,
reduce my stress,
Make those plans,
and clean up this mess! (Yes.....we all knew cleaning would fit in somewhere!)

Can't think now,
on auto pilot I am,
So many things today,
in which I have to cram.

But I'll feel better,
when they're done,
Can go do my lawn,
and have some fun!