Art, Music, Poetry & Photography : Poems, Poets & Poetry That Help You Through And Through

[anthony]

Moved to chit chat, as this is not PTSD discussion.

 

[Amy Jo]

Bedtime Story by Lisel Mueller

The moon llies on the river
like a drop of oil.
The children come to the banks to be healed
of their wounds and bruises.
The fathers who gave them their wounds and bruises
come to be healed of their rage.
The mothers grow lovely; their faces soften,
the birds in their throats awake.
They all stand hand in hand
and the trees around them,
forever on the verge
of becoming one of them,
stop shuddering and speak their first word.

But that isn't the beginning,
it is the end of the story,
and before we come to the end,
the mothers and fathers and children
must find their way to the river,
separately, with no one to guide them.
That is the long, pitiless part,
and it will scare you.

 

[Amy Jo]

I found this one on the net many years ago.
It had a profound effect on me.

For Children Who Were Broken
it is very hard to mend……

.....Please remember this
when we are out of sorts.
Tell us the truth, and be our friend.
For children who were broken…
it is very hard to mend.

Author Unknown

wow this made me cry

 

[Ladyhope Somerset]

A friend gave me this & I think it's worth sharing. It's called Cobwebs.

If I could rummage in your brain
And I could blow away the pain
Fill bin bags with your fears
And buckets with your tears
Throw them in the gutter
If I could just de-clutter
Your soul, hose away the stress
Replace with fonts of happiness.

If I could spring clean in your brain
And buff up the parts that remain
Obliterate the thoughts that torment you
Hoover away the thoughts that prevent you
From reaching what it is you seek
Come in, in a pinny, maybe once a week?
If I could polishh your self-esteem
Until I made it sparkle and gleam.

If I could sandblast your defences
Place gold cushions around your senses
If I could dig out the weeds of pessimism
Nurture and water the seeds of optimism
If I could tuck your inner child into a cosy bed,
Safe in the clutches of a favourite ted
Employ bouncers to keep your demons at bay
If I could, what would you say?

Would you let me help you to be free?
Oh ... and ... would you do the same for me?

Fran Isherwood (1958 -

 

[wife of]

:cry:

 

[KP the nut]

Thank you for sharing. I have copied it for my book.

 

[ButterflyPEI]

I read this poem not so long ago and it made me shiver. I needed it right when I read it. I wanted to share it with everyone.

Paint Brush
-Unknown

I keep my paint brush with me
Wherever I may go,
In case I need to cover up
So the real me doesn’t show.
I’m so afraid to show you me,
Afraid of what you’ll do – that
You might laugh or say mean things.
I’m afraid I might lose you.

I’d like to remove all my paint coats
To show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.
So if you’ll be patient and close your eyes,
I’ll strip off all my coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
To let the real me show.

Now my coats are all stripped off.
I feel naked, bare and cold,
And if you still love Me with all that you see,
You are my friend, pure as gold.

I need to save my paint brush, though,
And hold it in my hand,
I want to keep it handy
In case somebody doesn’t understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend
And thanks for loving me true,
But please let me keep my paint brush with me
Until I love me, too.