UNTITLED

Annonymous

Why am I writing on these pages

as my mind rages

and uncages

I unleash onto these pages,

the thoughts I feel and the feelings I have thought about for ages

my mind races to get my rages

uncaged and onto these pages.

REMARKABLE DISCOVERY

By Prudence Massaria

We will adventure again

perhaps in a different way.

An adventure to begin within,

questioning with each discovery the 

meaning of ourselves.

Each revelation bringing us to the brightness 

of light to see through a new prism.

To see shades of color.

Each shade valued.

Each shade deeper in the journey of discovery,

in the journey of evolution,

the remarkable discovery of self-awareness;

integrated into the whole of our being.

An adventure unending.

THE YEARS

By Howa Ramadan

Counting all the years, holding back the tears

Anxiety, panic, nightmares and sheer fear

I’m in a place of Bermuda

Stuck in a triangle of mess 

Chaos, suicidal thoughts I am depressed 

As the years go by it never gets better

Just goes round and round 

Yelling from the rooftops no-one can hear my sound

I am alone physically, mentally, mind body and soul

To be stable and break this addiction is my only goal

A head full of DNA and racing thoughts 

Can’t work out what’s real or distort 

Maladaptive behaviours

Drink, drugs sex and reckless sex sprees 

End up at first falling to my knees 

Then it gets worse I’m face down in the gutter 

People walk past with judgement and just mutter

My heart is lonely and longs for love 

A beautiful bond of growth and loyalty like two white doves

I cannot seem to shake this fear I am feeling 

Ptsd out of body experiences as I watch my lifeless body from the ceiling

Thirty five years old am my crown is starting to slip

Losing battle man, abort ship 

But I’ll keep fighting time after time 

As the clock keeps ticking till that very last chime.



A TOXIC LOVING HOME

By Brodeigh Pearce

I grew up in a toxic loving home,

Loving enough that I had food upon the table,

Toxic enough that my mental health became unstable,

I was taught to believe, I was selfish and full of greed,

But I was just a child asking for a basic need,

I now know how I treated was unfair,

But how would I have known that at the age of still sitting in 

a highchair,

The place I grew up in I referred to as home is now just a 

house to me,

and it saddens me that It never felt emotionally safe to the 

point I wanted so badly to leave,

My dad would always yell,

Sometimes I felt as if I was living in hell,

But he always said,

You’re lucky you have a roof over your head,

But I was just a child,

My life shouldn’t have been that wild,

But you get fed, and you have a warm bed,

This is something my dad always said

You have way more than most kids do,

But there was something missing,

Love and care,

Someone I could call out to in the night if I had a nightmare, 

or got scared,

But I didn’t have that,

I would watch other kids with their fathers after school,

And I always thought why is mine so cruel,

I cried every night wishing things were different,

The love I was given was intermittent,

I craved what the other children my age had,

I wished he wouldn’t get so mad,

I longed to be loved,

I longed for all of the above

I’LL BE FINE, YOU’LL SEE

By Annie Walsh 

Held hostage by my mind

I struggle with the pain

Another day begins

Here we go again

Irrational i know

Overwhelming fear

Staying in my home

Not going anywhere

I didn’t see it coming

It crept up on me

The anxiety I feel

Has taken over me

Some days I feel weak

Don’t recognise myself

Physically in pain

And fragile mental health

As dark as it may get

I’ll try to find the light

I will not let it win

For my sanity I’ll fight

So each passing day

A bit stronger I will be

I’m gonna take my time

But I’ll be fine , you’ll see

COLD SPADES

By Haley Headrick

They say I am strong, resilient.

I am warm, with love so full of fire it will tingle on your skin for a lifetime.

My smile.

They say my smile is infectious, accompanied by a laugh that moves through a room like a bubonic plague fixing itself into your ear drums.

You will never unhear the joy.

They say I’m brave, I put myself behind others.

Empathy runs through my veins like soldiers on a mission to give people love and acceptance served on a platter of nonjudgement.

I’m kind, they say I am incredibly kind.

Seen as strong and resilient; they say this like it is something to envy.

Yet, not seen are the wounds and scars that stack on top of one another like playing cards building this wall of strength they all crave to possess.

I don’t see her, the one they speak about. Eyes the size of saucers but I’m blind.

This wall of cards does not include kings and queens.

Spades and rule cards stacked high, the salt of my tears used as glue. Every crack filled in with abandonment and a crippling fear I will never be good enough.

They say these things, but I can’t hear them though the screams of the starving body I refuse to feed because my fingers don’t wrap around my wrist in a way that satisfies me yet.

They say I’m warm, but my hands are ice cold.



SUDDENLY AT HOME

By Trisha Lawty

A cup of tea. 

Warm, sweet tea,and I need warmth and sweetness.

Fill the kettle, think only of filling the kettle.

Filling the kettle makes sense,

when nothing else in this world makes sense.

What next? 

Fill the teapot.

Tea bags and boiling water.

Brewing warm sweet tea makes sense,

when nothing else in my world makes sense

I do need warmth and sweetness.

Drinking warm, sweet tea gives me normality,

When nothing in my life is normal.



SURVIVING SHADOWS

By Fredua A Boateng

A wounded soul in scorching heat,

The world takes its toll, no words to speak.

Pain runs deep, shadows grow,

Despair creeps in, no way to go.

They look to him, a heavy chain,

To soothe their pain, but he's in vain.

A vessel cracked, worn and torn,

Trying to mend, but feeling worn.

He seeks a way in darkest night,

To end the plight, to find the light.

But don't give up, dear soul, hang in there,

There's a spark of hope, a way to care.

When skies are gray, and darkness looms,

Help is not far, someone will soon.

Reach out your hand, let them in,

Together, we'll find a way to win.

It's hard to see, in despair's grip,

The strength within, don't let it slip.

You're not alone, in this fight,

Stay strong, dear soul, hold on to light.

Life's burdens may seem hard to bear,

But there are people who truly care.

Let them guide you, heal your heart,

For there's always hope, a new start.

Your pain is real, your struggles, too,

But you have the power to make it through.

Though it seems impossible today,

Tomorrow's sun will light your way.

ABOUT THE POEM: "This is a poem I wrote after going through a period in my life when I felt loneliest within. Screaming so loudly but no one could hear me until a stranger walked up to me one day and asked how I was doing.”

ABOUT FREDUA: Fredua is a Ghanaian poet who believes in second chances, growth through accepting our flaws, reflection, and the effects of poetry.



WHO IS THAT MAN

By Charity Louise

Who is that man

That I see

Who is that man

That watches me

You look suspicious

And very strange

Stop staring at me

As if your deranged

I look at you

You glare me

I begin to see

Your murderous spree

I’m onto you

I see your hate

As you walk towards me

I stand and wait

I see your eyes

They are red

Demon of Lucifer

You want me dead

An angelic voice

Speaks to me

From a place

I can not see

“There is no mercy

There is only hate

For you my friend

This is your fate.”

Go back to hell and shut the gate.

MAROONED

By Hannah Louise MacFarlane

I feel it pressing against my cranium,

Like the barrel of a gun ready, loaded, locked.

A constant coldness on my temple,

That lies within an eternal promise,

To take my life.

It sits perched on a hill inside my mind,

Within the turntable that does not stop.

Spinning, stirring, and flashing,

In a constant loop that presents my failings,

Ready to win the fight.

I am no stranger to disappointment,

Pain is what fuels my drive, sparks my engine.

It is what makes it impossible to allow myself,

The bittersweet taste of failure,

Even once a while.

I am a prototype of half of a whole person,

A pick 'n mix of antidepressants and small rooms.

Clipboards, tissue boxes, flowers on the walls,

That are all designed to make me better,

But make me feel worse.

The blade was never once pleasing to me,

The harsh grey against my snow skin and blue veins.

It was the red that screamed of intense danger, pain,

The promise that came with those things,

The proof I was still alive.

It has been nothing short of a miracle,

That the blade has not crossed my skin in six hundred days.

Six hundred days since the last violent attack against myself,

Since I turned the water hues of red and pink,

Bleeding from my wrist intentionally.

That does not mean I am excited to live,

It simply means the demons inside my mind have been quiet.

Since I switched out blades for baskets of pens and notebooks.

Every time I want to cut my skin I write,

So instead of six hundred becoming zero, you read this, and I live.

THE DANCING SKY AND THE DANCING MIND

By Sasha Pavlovic

The sunlight creeps through the ajar window, visually, tangible, but just out of reach. Each angle grants a new perspective on the gleam, that graces, the otherwise gloomy room. 

The shadows cast themselves differently with each glance you secure, with the desire to illuminate your mind that has become inky and clouded. 

As the sun rises into the cotton candy, painted sky, you start to notice the different colors and layers that the once jet black and lightless landscape was deprived of.

The wisps of white that dawdle across the scene of copper, coral, and light sapphire that decorate the sky that you typically disregard, and label as mundane. 

Each day brings a new opportunity to recognize the charm, and that surrounds you constantly.

At times this beauty is blockaded by the burden of the night, but there is beauty in the darkness, too. 

Where there is dusk, there are stars, stars that shine through space, sparkling, like diamonds, and luminous like the streetlamps that guide you home. 

The orbs can be tedious to sort through and reach for in times of utter pain, suffering, when the darkness falls upon you and encapsulates your vision. 

Nevertheless, the glow and glare of the celestial bodies that adorn our night sky are always present, whether you can notice them or not.

Persevere through the night and find the permanent presence of the stars, you never know what you’re missing until you look at the world with new lenses. 

Each blink has the power to change your mentality and allow you to fight your demons in the night while also discerning that in detrimental and damaging moments, there will always be light in the dark.

There will always be stars in the blackness that accompany the dead of night. Sometimes they are not as incandescent, but it is acknowledging their existence that will get you through.

Notice the stars whenever you can, for they will guide you home.

POEM

By Anthony Lanza

Lies spoken in distrust,

forge death in distinct parts of the world,

Loyalty brought under question,

A certain word, A glance

caught in the corner of my eye

Lost in the shadow of time,

Betrayed by the self

as perfection lies in the imperfect



CONSTANTLY AWAY

By Noor Yousif

The sun dimmed

Eternal gloom

I embraced my wails

I have been pushed away
Hidden bitterness beneath wrath

Get away, bury your gasp

Weary entity in the way
Passive tempest seemed to never go away

Along despair

I stumbled in dismay
Nothing seems to go away

Obey your fear

Don’t wipe your tears away
You’re doomed invariably to live away

From chasm to abyss
You will always be away

DISEASES

By Binod Dawadi

They are attacking me,

They want to make me weak,

As well as kill me,

They want to seeze my strength,

They are monsters,

Which can't be seen by naked eyes,

They are coming in my life,

They take my all happiness,

I don't know how I can get rid of them,

They are my enemies,

I should win them,

As well as become healthy,

I should fight with my life,

I hope one day I can win,

I am not afraid of them,

I should be healthy as soon as possible.

ABOUT BINOD: Binod is based in Kathmandu, Nepal. With over 1000 anthology contributions, and deeply involved in digital photography and painting, he is dedicated to societal transformation through creativity.

STOPPING BY RIVER FOR A REST

By GS Yarbro

I stop by river for a rest;

    the other bank appears the best.

Easy to cross, a simple feat,

    after all it's my final quest.

Golden fields with a fragrance sweet,

    people there I would like to meet.

Going across I entertain,

    peace and joy, my reward complete.

This side's full of trouble and pain,

    just work and toil with little gain.

No getting ahead I can see,

    yet here I decide to remain.

Others are here who count on me,

    a purpose I accept with glee.

Up from under a big shade tree,

    back to work I gladly agree.

THE POET

By Sanda Ristić Stojanović

Translation Sonja Asanović Todorović 

A place that stretches out its arms like life and death,

а  face that crucifies all atmospheres,

a face judged by day and night, just like a song,

a face created from the cry of the possible,

hands are snatched away from the tradition of form,

muscles surrender their time constantly to the feelings of time,

the sight has the strings of all the vestibules of passion,

the sight is torn between day and night,

the sight signifies the sameness of testimonies and the cruelty of silence.

ABOUT SANDA: Sanda graduated in philosophy at the Belgrade Faculty of Philosophy. She is the author of 10 poetry books, and one of four authors in the joint collection of poems From the Shadow of the Verse.

RESTORE THE FAITH

By Bobby Z

Eternal gardens, with magnificent waterfalls,

hidden away in time, awaiting your call. 

Sparkling water, gardens with colors ablaze, 

leaves you wondering, is it real or just a haze.

Constant sunshine, with a heavy morning dew,

not easy to find, available to few.

Pools of water, reflecting from the sun,

seen by few, you may be the chosen one.

Searching and searching, difficult to find,

may be locked away. deep in your mind.

Restore your faith, proclaim you can,

release your mental burden, proceed to that enchanting land.

A very select few, who have restored their faith,

once within its reach, can now unlock the gate.

ABOUT BOBBY: Bobby Z is an 82 year old vet, cancer & Covid survivor, recovering alcoholic 

(45 years), original Jersey Coty 50's bad boy & published author.

W: https://talesofthejunkyarddog.wordpress.com/

PINE BED

By Malachy Mackel

Sitting amongst the trees, I breathe what they release to me,

Without a care a few hours past me by, I sit in the stillness,

A little trickle sound of a stream hidden from my view,

It adds a rhythm to the peaceful silence of the mountain side,

Leaning against a tree, a bed of pine needles comforts my stay

As the evening rushes in, I breathe in deeply

Trying capture it,

I'm thankful now the forest let me share in the calmness it releases,

The peaceful feeling I take with me hopefully remains.

Share your Poetry for Mental Health ...