Best Therapy Poems

The walls of the doctor's office
Are blue.
Blue is a color that's supposed to
Calm, to soothe.
The doctor and the nurse both have
Blue eyes.

They are telling me
About the magic pill
That will make 
All of my problems 
Go away...

The nurse asks,
"Don't you want to be 
Like everyone else?"
I...

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Although long nights dim for your missing child,
The woodland marks his  own path
Guiding tiny footsteps.

Courageous be, despite a troubled  heart
Hanging unto divine grace--
On faith the soul resides.

Then let my comfort grant  you kindled  peace 
Awaiting star's miracle …
Till angels lead him...

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writing is my therapy.
she releases feelings in me nothing else releases
I do not even care if it is poetry, 
it is the feeling i seek,
she is my friend, she cares not what words I use,
she releases my sadness, my madness, and every day badness.
she eliminates...

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She has breast cancer, malignant tumor
                 Time passes, a waiting game
                 Routine mammography


...

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Glowing orange, cloud coals burn
reflections into low tide evening surf,
slap lapping against scattered shells,
ripe fruits for hungry sea tramp's picking.
Itinerant thoughts, aimless as seaweed drift,
scatter like bands of sandpiper strays
on endless quest for burrowing crabs.
Peace rolling off the water, a liquid aura,
brings surcease to the...

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Four characters that we know well
have problems they all want to tell
in therapy group.
To get all the scoop,
let’s eavesdrop, for all is not well!

Believing no more in himself,
sits dear Santa Claus and an elf
who is hating his work.
Santa says, “What jerk.
I should put you back...

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Grab a blank sketch book and call it your own
Create your personal memory album
It’s fun, creative, therapeutic, and shareable

Your eyes will light up each time you share memories
Your heart will tingle as you turn the pages
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll travel back in time
‘Cause memories...

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Translucent turquoise tide pools
soft shimmer on the sand,
mirrors for vain seagulls,
bathtubs for crusty crabs.
The tide slap lapping on the beach,
cavorting up and down the shore
with sounds of gentle laughter
mixing tumbling rocks and broken shells.
Adrift along a fantasy,
stretched out upon the sand;
my mind a merry fishhook
baiting...

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TANGLEWOOD AS THERAPY

Tanglewood untangled me, took my breath away
each moment of Sibelius, Mahler, Rachmaninoff 
sweet violins, trumpets, kettle drums, cellos, fire
mixed with wind, echoing within the shed, over
the lawn, concert goers sprawled on blankets,
seated on beach chairs attentive to every sound

those strains, my favorite classics,...

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I see you filled with emotional pain
You feel like you are alone
So I will hold your hand

It’s okay, you do not need to explain
I will be here through the hurt
Let me absorb your tears

When you are ready tell me how you feel
My promise is to...

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She spoke to me
about the semantics of shame,
the seduction and flame,
the name of the pain,
lunatic loop of lost meaning,
complaining of symptoms remaining
robust and teething
weighing upon me
morning through evening
like a stoney smoke stifling,
misidentifying the madness 
of this sadness as inherent illness
primordial and permanent,
the face of Her...

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There are no lies to be written
Real life is how it's read
What I write is the honest truth
No more regrets
I've been pushed 
I've been shoved
Straight in the gut 
Where my heart bleeds out the love
No bandage around 
To patch it up
Pressure more pressure against me
On...

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I leave the sun-dappled autumn sidewalk, entering the office

The empty chair there lingers.
dark tendrils coiling in my mind—
my blind rage pleading for quiet healing.

flashbacks clash like striking thunder
opening buried treasures of truth.
and in that final brand searing cry
My heart reborn, mindlessly adrift in spectral mist.

I...

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Day old coffee
in its maker
a cold witness
sometimes
to broken dreams
and war stories
and proclamations
of
getting well
of
new beginnings
of
hearty hope.

Solemn stories and
cloudy memories
and Joe
laughter’s echo
at some obscure
joke but
the window
knows
how schemes get
distorted
deformed
disfigured.

Some have just
flown that way
inevitably
some do go
without ceremony
without fanfare
no hoopla
simply vanish
and all that’s left
are
empty seats
empty room
empty maker
waiting for
the next batch
of...

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What does it feel like to wake up into your skin?
Your day?
What do you feel first most days?
Is it in any way influenced by gratitude,
or totally given over to worry,
anxious
or, worse, anticipating 
shortness of healthy mind time
and insufficiency of safe body space?
 
Is this life...

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