Ptsd poetry anyone?

[frogthroat]

Do you have someone to talk to; seeing a therapist who hears your voice?

Oh yeah, I've been seeing a trauma therapist for over a year now.

 

[TruthSeeker]

That's good! Mine has been really helpful in keeping me in this world. I hope she doesn't move away.

 

[CanDo]

I heard an interesting question. What accomplishment are you most proud of?

Would you be more proud of a shining achievement that took very little effort,
that you just happened to be on top of the hill at the right moment and
success was practically granted to you like a gift?
Or would you be more proud of something that took heroic effort, suffering
and painful sacrifice, but you had nothing to show for it?

Let's take it a step further.

The first accomplishment raises your status to heights of honor,
brought out by friends and family to show at parties, heightening
respect, wealth and position.
The second steeps you in disgrace. Shunned and despised, friends and family
try to hide it.
You paid a heavy price that leaves you with a limp, which is regarded by others
as your shame.

The second act was a good deed you paid a heavy price for doing, service to someone or something.
The first is an act that was effortless and stokes your pride.

Would you be proud of yourself if you were Job?
A whole mountain of crap and the only thing he could say at the end was that he held the line.


[Don't know if this comes off cheesy, but what the heck, I thought I'd give it a shot. :) ]

 

[Changing4Best]

Is this death?
Or just a warning.

I see a dark tunnel before me
barely a touch of light at its end.

Where is the hope
I felt not long ago?

It must have been swallowed
by the fog I am under.

I feel like I am dying
but I know it can't be so

Death would be much worse than this
but my heart still trembles.

 

[TruthSeeker]

@Changing4Best Yep-doubt is crowding in my life....and the fog. I tried to do art but my heart is not in it....there is no desire. You been painting lately?

 

[HealingMama]

Pieces shattered like glass
And you dare to ask what's my problem.

The throbbing of spaces missing their blood,
Running dark and thunderous with
A bark worse than a bite.

Grass is greener when you're not a screamer.
Dream a little dream with me of an end to fright.

My heart gashed open like lightning struck my chest
You'll never guess how hard it is to hide my mess.

 

[Changing4Best]

@Changing4Best Yep-doubt is crowding in my life....and the fog. I tried to do art but my heart is not in it....there is no desire. You been painting lately?

Yes, I have. I did one entitled "Beam Us Up, Jesus!" I gave it as a gift on a moments notice. A birthday I did not know about.

Pieces shattered like glass
And you dare to ask what's my problem.

The throbbing of spaces missing their blood,
Running dark and thunderous with
A bark worse than a bite.

Grass is greener when you're not a screamer.
Dream a little dream with me of an end to fright.

My heart gashed open like lightning struck my chest
You'll never guess how hard it is to hide my mess.

I feel this one. Thanks for sharing!

 

[TruthSeeker]

I feel this one. Thanks for sharing!

Yeah...I got all kinds of mess going on inside....it oozes out sometimes at the most inappropriate times.....I hate that when it happens.

 

[ChildofGod]

Solid concrete, standing still, without a voice.
Mouth forever silent until safety is guaranteed.
Internal screaming so loud that I am now deaf.
Throat and voice are raw and I only know one word-why.

Statue standing in one spot, never to move until I am safe again.
I don't know what safety is, it hides from me permanently.
Body and mind in stasis, yearning to break free.
What is freedom from pain, that I do not know.

I am tethered to the ground in cement.
I am but a statue, my shadow does not cast upon the ground.
I was alright once, before I was born in my mother's womb.
Could she have known that I was to be born powerless, without a voice?

Pain is the only thing I know, the deepest depths that are unknown to man.
Please let me break free, please let me speak.
I am more than the concrete that holds me.
I am more than what events molded me.

I yearn to break free and never be frozen again.
Please help this statue break into being human again.
I am more than the primordial rage that I feel.
I am perfect but since birth I did not know it.

 

[TruthSeeker]

SURROUNDED BY ENEMIES

They only mimic and mock
it's true, though it does annoy
it cannot kill me, really, I know
still, I have to put up with it
can't fight back, either.

One day I will have a chance
to express my feelings, I know
I will tell them off with relish
mayonnaise and onions!
Pickles too, dills with sharp ridges.

Maybe I have one friend there
if I am lucky, I'm not sure
a smile can be taken many ways
like it could denote fear
I'm never sure, as it doesn't last.

I took a vacation from this thread...and writing poetry, and now I'm back ....I've always loved your poetry...and our poetic duo....thanks for the poetic contributions in a time, when things were so very hard....now, they still can be hard....but not like then.

Solid concrete, standing still, without a voice.
Mouth forever silent until safety is guaranteed.
Internal screaming so loud that I am now deaf.
Throat and voice are raw and I only know one word-why.

Statue standing in one spot, never to move until I am safe again.
I don't know what safety is, it hides from me permanently.
Body and mind in stasis, yearning to break free.
What is freedom from pain, that I do not know.

I am tethered to the ground in cement.
I am but a statue, my shadow does not cast upon the ground.
I was alright once, before I was born in my mother's womb.
Could she have known that I was to be born powerless, without a voice?

Pain is the only thing I know, the deepest depths that are unknown to man.
Please let me break free, please let me speak.
I am more than the concrete that holds me.
I am more than what events molded me.

I yearn to break free and never be frozen again.
Please help this statue break into being human again.
I am more than the primordial rage that I feel.
I am perfect but since birth I did not know it.

I totally can relate. This is quite excellent poetry....keep writing!

Thoughts on the Rocks

I had a rock collection
when I was a kid
all the colors of the rainbow
were under the lid.

My grandfather made a shelf
so I could display them all
so I had a place for my books
all my rocks, and my ball.

These were the times
after my parents rescued me
away from the evil one
setting me mercifully free.

I'd have liked to have thrown
every rock in his face
to see his blood run down
like caked up mace.

Then again that would stain
my beautiful rocks all up
daddy should have punched him
so his blood would fill his cup.

I will keep my rocks safe
just as I will keep my person
lock all my doors shut tight
until each night is done.

The title, thoughts on the rocks, immediately reminded me of "Love on the Rocks" by Neil Diamond....just a side bar really. Poetry helps me access my memories of childhood. I really like this poem....thanks!

PS. I did not get scammed, he sure tried though!

Good!

Untitled

One day the sun will come up.
The birds will start to sing.
The flowers will be blooming
and I will not be here anymore.
You'll pass people on the street.
They'll be laughing and talking.
The smell of coffee and breakfast will fill the air and I will not be here anymore.
The radio will be so soft the people speaking will just be noise.
The breeze will be gentle.
You'll flip through mail while you make arrangements and I will not be here anymore.[/QUOTE}

I like the simplicity of the message this poem carries......drama free-it's just nice.

Oh yeah, I've been seeing a trauma therapist for over a year now.

Glad to hear....yeah, I had to switch Ts, but this one is really so very much better. Keep writing!

 

[TruthSeeker]

I'm Back.....

I took a break,
from poetry you see,
to improve my health,
physically;

So much to do,
aerobically,
which keeps me balanced,
mentally;

Now back to writing
eagerly,
it helps maintain my
clarity!





,

 

[Ronin]

Trying with poems
About this feels and that feels
Is like herding cats. :facepalm:

Got a few poems;
They all feature rock and wheels
The other grenades.

... writing b/c after a year of none I just won a bet.