Depression’s
Emotional barrage
Fabricates varied and
Endless vulnerabilities
And, heartlessly,
Targets them.
Category Archives: Poetry
Defeat Acrostic
The Hands Holding the Book
The hands holding the book
Slowly drift to her sides
As her breaths grow shallow and slow.
The pale, wrinkled face
Turns slack and relaxed
As the pot bubbles on low.
The gray, wizened man
Stares at the large screen
As smoke creeps into the air.
She wakes just in time
To save pan and house,
As he watches on without care.
Life in a Bubble Limerick
I think life in a bubble is grand,
But some others just won’t understand.
They push, and they press
Though they have no succes,
And in pushing, they may become banned.
Too Enough
Pushed too far to be patient
Stretched too taut to be kind
Wrung too dry to be social
Hedged too close to be blind
Depression too deep to be active
Connections too many to be free
Compassion too spent to be trusted
Obligations enough to be
I cannot
I cannot make them listen.
I cannot make them see.
I cannot make them value
The me I have to be.
I cannot make me guiltless.
I cannot make me free.
I cannot make me happy
With all I cannot be.
I cannot make us better.
I cannot make us blend.
I cannot make us anything
But a struggle to pretend.
What Is Your Shield
What is your shield when your world overturns?
Is it the pulsing energy of a crowd?
Beating thoughts back with drums and lights
Is it the muffling weight of a closed door?
Burying fears with books and stories
Is it the driving whip of frenzied work?
Blotting it out by crowding minutes
Is it the rhythms of a formal prayer?
Barricading with symbol and sermon
Is it the thrilling spike of vital risk?
Bolting, diving, or vaulting away
Is it the warmth of a loving hug?
Blanketing all with comforting care
What is your shield, your shelter, your escape?
How do you survive the strikes of fate?
twytte 