Anxiety l loathe you, yes loathe you l do
Uninvited , you invade my whole being
You serve me no purpose
When you get hold of me….there is no freeing
I never invited you in
I have told you continuously to leave me alone
Yet you do not listen
You still invade my whole being down to the bone
So, l reluctantly live with you
I do my best to keep you and your negativity at bay
I manage you , l cope with you
Though l know…..you are never far away
I have this jar, nothing special about it
Aside for the fact it is used to save money
You may ask about it, actually
I'm saving for something sweet like honey
They say everything cost money
If you live you pay for you to keep on living
If you die you pay to be buried
And here I thought if I just disappear
So does my financial responsibility
Isn't so hard, to choose
Whether to live or to die
Either choice still cost a fortune
So here I am keep on working
Keep on living, Saving for my funeral
triggers triggers yet they
fall before me
yellow purple
what colors do I notice
palm trees beach views
something I see there
is called home.
I can feel the dust on my tongue
yet as they dissolve and then solve all my
issues.
clinically and emotionally why
Does this little tabloid make me gain weight
I can’t seem to shake
All because I am a
schizoid.
("High Timberline Merit Badge", 2011, original oil)
When I was young, I didn’t have much.
Which means I didn’t worry
About it being taken away.
Didn’t worry about robbers, private or public,
And didn’t care about changing the world.
That wasn’t the brand of hubris I was born with.
Now that I’m old and retired there is a lot to lose,
My life and family, savings, property and stuff.
So I pay more attention to those who preach
The doctrine of redistribution, hope and change.
It’s easy to get caught up in it all
Since it’s always in the news.
But it’s also easy to forget there's an easy way out,
A simple and sure way out of hoping
And worrying what change will come.
And that is to simply sit,
On your own private cushion, or better yet
Beside a dog.
But best of all, outside, amid the greens
Under the clouds in a sky of blue
And let the sounds and sights of nature
Give you all you need.
No need for hope or worry about changing a thing,
The world is doing just fine within you and without you.
(9/10/26)
Shadow Man
Sitting in an empty room.
He watches down the hall.
As shadows move across the floor.
And dance along the wall.
His eyes grow darker like the room.
Cause to him it’s all the same.
Rejected by the light of day
the shadows call his name.
Sitting in the darkened room,
Where nighttime never ends.
He don’t seem to mind at all.
The shadows are his friends.
He listens to the whispers.
Carried in the nighttime air.
As shadows repeat secrets.
That someone dared to share.
Be careful what you say or do.
It’s part of a greater plan.
The secrets told that he may hold
the one called Shadow Man.
Edwin C Hofert
She lay still,
within the rot of her festering limerence,
bleeding on clovers in the field beneath.
The red of the clovers
begins to darken with the crimson blood
spilling from her wrists,
as she fixes her gaze upon the lonesome stars above.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God."
She repeats internally.
She seems to find peace
in a sense of nihility,
though she desires death before being.
It's almost as she yearns for the feeling
of fester and decay,
eager for the obscurity ahead.
And with her final breaths,
she casts a parting glance
upon the clovers strewn below,
in search for any sign of luck
among her inevitable solitude.
A four leaf clover lay
within her stilled grasp.
Yet still,
dawn knows no delay.
Like a programmed robot
I move through each day
Smiling and nodding
In just the right way.
Pretending I'm happy
And life is just great
When the truth of the matter is
There's just too much on my plate.
I feel like I got cheated
Out of living a good life
I'm poor and alone
And I'll never be anyone's wife.
I'm like that lone shoe
You see lying on the road
Alone and discarded
Like an unwanted load.
People pass by me
Staring with pity
Torn and tattered
Not an ounce of pretty.
The shadows in my eyes
Portray a battle lost
Nightmares and insomnia
Show surrender’s cost.
The physical scars
Have healed without a trace
But the mental emotions
Are still written in my face.
I'm a programmed robot
Struggling each day
Trying to hold my head up
And wishing I could fade away.
A raw nerve exposed
A painful wound reopened
- Next step of healing
Life's storms help us grow.
The raindrops all come and go.
Sorrow soaks, lingers.
But the sun soon shines again,
Bestowing us a rainbow.
I write down the thoughts I need to say.
I say them and they don’t come out quite right,
They never do.
They look me up and down and left and right and they don't choose me.
Not even me.
I think and write all of the reasons why,
But i never can
Maybe because I talk too much,
Or I talk about myself too much,
Or maybe I was cocky that one day, even though I didn't mean to.
I don't understand.
“I have friends,
But I want more.
Ones that are real.”
That didn't come out right.
It sounded right when I wrote it.
Maybe that’s the reason they look me up and down and left and right…
Because they’re trying to see into me,
And they did.
They ask me what is race —
I say: a border drawn in skin,
a lie that learned to breathe,
A wicked seed planted from within.
It’s not blood. Blood doesn’t know color.
It’s not bone. Bone doesn’t hold grudges.
It’s a story — told so long,
so loud, so often,
we mistook the telling for the truth.
Race is a costume
A made up competition
Of existence.
HIS-Story made us wear.
Prejudice is the cousin
Of racism for they both go hand in hand.
While they prevent every color and creed from coming together and joining hands.
Some days it fits like armor,
some days it cuts like wire,
but underneath it, every time,
is just a person
asking to be free
of the box somebody else built.
So don’t ask me what race is.
Ask what it costs.
Ask who it protects.
Ask why we’re still drawing lines
on a map that was never really there.
KELOIDS OF THE MIND
Mental scars of mind;
Raised reminders of journeys:
Scars of conquered trials:-
Some days the weight isn't heavy or loud,
just a fog that settles behind the eyes,
a persistent, low-hanging winter cloud
that blurs the shape of the morning skies.
We ask ourselves why we are tired or slow,
as if healing moves in a straight, clear line,
forgetting the seed buried under the snow
is working in secret before its design.
It takes courage to rest when the world demands speed,
to sit with the storm till the thunder subsides,
to listen with patience to what the heart needs,
instead of the pressure that daily decides.
You do not need to be cured by tonight,
nor prove that you’re whole to be worthy of space;
just stay in the room, let yourself see the light,
and meet your own spirit with unconditional grace.
Anxious as my thoughts paint out a canvas,
Tenuous strokes with each choke,
As I look at my hands, they soak,
Covered in blisters of oak,
As I wept through the saunter,
With no words their daughter says,
No peak at the herds,
Hoarsed around in their glammy gala,
Oh this fiesta, I could've taken a siesta,
Envied with this gluttonous rake over my bulging eyes,
Oh I'm shaken by this phrase,
Starved moons left to rot for this,
I cower with no fight to arise,
I begin to tremble with no cries,
Shots fired but it's only light,
I am in frame for only tonight.
She is picture perfect in broken glass,
Wearing the look of a heartbroken lass,
Lilacs bloom, but she's not aware, alas!
~
Lavender life goes on, leaves her behind,
For it knows of her hopeless state of mind,
She's in a flux, a depressed black hole bind;
~
Who can rescue her from this forlorn mood?
For she seems saddened and by sorrow blued,
Shards pierced her heart, she cries in solitude;
~
Let her free her mind and bawl in silence,
Bipolar woes have given her license !!
Help her stand against strife in defiance !!
~
Be there for her when she goes through such times,
Pick up the shattered mirror shards sometimes,
Aid her as she builds from them tinkling chimes !!
©Joanna Daniel (26.08.26)
Mental Health Categories
Definition | What is Mental Health in Poetry?
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