Psych Ward Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

TRUST TRIAGE

She came for help
But her body looks whole
It's better if the wound is exposed
So that staff knows where to go

The list of pains given
Inventory reveals troubled mind
Sent up to psych ward
For an evaluation that will take up time

Most just want medicine
To ease the torment, looping wires
A muscle relaxer for tension
Just enough to put out all the fires

Hours later, staff is reprimanded
For missing the hidden sign
A psychotic break has happened
Because the heart is connected to the mind

She just needed someone to see
To show care instead of evaluation
Worn from the moment to moment battle
The last incident is what brought her palpitation 

Religion, the one safe place to go
Is the space where the man delivered the blow
He did not follow procedure or bylaws
As his power play put on a show

A traumatized woman her entire life
Never trusting a man for support or care
Can not even go to the elders for help
Because if they fail, she has no more heart to spare

...abandoned by authority

Written by Trudy Shcrader on 06-28-2026

Note: Daddy God fights for the widow and orphan

Birthday in a psych ward

You spent your birthday in a psych ward
For trying to get out
Now twice, on your record
What is it you’re without?

Left at Rockbottom

I walk into my mom’s room, filled with fear,
As nausea is bubbling in my core.
I say nothing, it’s already clear;
I took a b’ttle of pills just like before.

Tears fall from my eyes and drip from my chin,
As screaming insults fall from my mom’s lips.
She yells, “Get in the car,” and the pr’cess begins.
She cont’nues to yell like she’s read’ng a script.

She says she’s not staying for this bullsh’t this time.
With that, she left—no “I love you,” no goodbye.
I’d never felt more alone in my life.
In the weeks that followed, I did nothing but cry.

In those three weeks, I only felt like a problem,
Reminding me, my own mom left me at rock bottom.


Premium Member Airborne

I dug my toes into the tile floors 
through the custom issued socks
and ahead I looked at the psychs counter
and with energy and lift I would rock

I began to run while the guard looked on
he wondered what my actions would be
but a swift pursuit I had in mind 
to fly in grace for all to see

Then as my feet left the ground
the guard forcefully tackled me
slamming my head into the counter
and then down to the floor half gracefully

A crowd of staff then jumped on me
and I hugged them back as I knew I would live
they gave me a shot that knocked me out
but I was glad it's what they give

I woke up in an MRI machine
and heard them talking of my arousal
but I would black out once again
only to awake on a psych ward bed

I ask myself should I have taken the flight
trying to fly right through the sky
but it is our flight or fight response
that keeps us from rolling the die

Premium Member Discussing Aunt Lulu With My Sister

Aunt Lulu is brilliant, a genius.
Are you daft? She is insane.
Her ideas are innovative and selfless.
Her notions are nuttier than a walnut tree.

She is an enigma, elusive and enthusiastic.
Did you get the name right?
She is certifiable, headed for a psych ward.
I have her name and her number thank you.

She is the most intelligent woman I have met.
Did you ever meet our mother? She was the bright one.
Did you ever listen to Aunt Lulu? Did you ever hear her words?
Mom said she was crazy, and that’s good enough for me.

She is insanely sane.
She is a diabolical disaster, bipolar, on lithium.
And that makes her crazy?
Mom said she was; that is good enough for me.
Now who is the crazy one? Please give her a chance.
No thanks. My mind is made up.

Premium Member If the Church

If the church is a hospital,
does it have an emergency room?
Can the person with a spiritual heart attack,
get a lifesaving response?  
If the church is a hospital,
is there a psych ward for the mentally ill?
Are there crayons for the scitzo to draw on the walls?
If the church is a hospital,
is there an X-ray room for broken bones?
Does it provide chemo therapy for the cancer patient?
Is there a recovery room for the alcoholic struggling to stay dry?
If the church is a hospital,
is the pharmacy always open?
IF the church is a shelter,
Does it have blankets on the beds?
Does it have a teddy bear?
Are there toys a plenty
for the boys and girls to share?
IF the church is a shelter,
does it have a home like vibe?
Or is it a cold white waiting room?
If the church is a shelter,
does it have a warm fire place?
Does a picture of Jesus
hang as a painting on the wall?
Is there a nurse on staff if I fall?
If the church was more of a treatment center,
and did not have a big X over sin...
I would find a guide indeed.
But maybe I might actually be
the helping hand someone needs.


Karma

How does it feel to be confined to a bed
Alone in a psych ward with the voices in your head
Your actions done and now you're here
How does it feel to be laying here

The lives you've destroyed but still deny
You don't fool me; An eye for an eye
Karma has a way of coming back around
Now it's your turn and you've been found

Losing the battle; your little one lost
They protect her from you at all costs
The State came in and took her away
With you no more; not allowed to stay 

Your home and job is a thing of the past
Your lying and deceit took them at last
Your family no longer behind your front door
The life you had is no more

You dug your own grave all on your own
help from no one; you did it alone
What goes around comes around they say
And karma made sure; you're beginning  to pay

Author: Kristin Bordelon

Some Are Not Meant For This World

(Dedicated to all those who have died alone.)


They cannot fit, they cannot go along,
and the reasons are wide: pride, fear,
even love never tempered by time,
illness of the  heart or mind, or simply
bad, bad luck: life throws them away
until they throw life away....

She was one of the gentle ones,
the unlucky ones-- a flower child
who missed her time, an era she
might have thrived in, free, alive,
unencumbered by family ties....

If she had come age in the 60's,
she might have lived into her 90's.
But lost and afraid in a cold world
not of her making, with her bird-
like heart breaking, she ate her
last hoarded apple, then lay down
to sleep and sleep and sleep until
she awakened safe in heaven's lap.


--judged NA in 'Will to survive' contest, 10/15/20--


[The poem was based on a true incident whereby a young woman suffering severe depression and paranoia  was released from a psych ward without anyone informing her family; she stayed alone for weeks in an empty, unheated house in winter subsisting only on half-rotten apples she had picked up from the ground in the back yard.]

Post-Culture War

Watching the extinction
of the paleo
as the death
calls
them
to the crank lab or product
or the prison and psych-ward.

Those that are still here
await Jeff Foxworthy
for exploitative representation
finding
Dale on the the King of the Hill
solace.

© S. Wesley Mcgranor

A Prophecy

A Prophecy

John Grisham was rejected by 28 publishers
Before he sold “A Time to Kill”
But because he didn’t say “What the hell”
His books have sold over 275 mil.

Maya Angelou was once a whore
But she wanted to write and sing
When haters were speaking she wasn’t listening
And in 1993 she sang before a king.

Paul Laurence Dunbar was the son of a slave
Wrote his brilliant masterpieces at the elevator door
Determined not to listen to the white man because he wanted more
Now he is an example of greatness for the writing poor.

Tyshawn Nicole Knight was once a mental case
She wrote poetry on the floors in the psych ward
But, she never gave up, she struggled and worked hard
Now she is a publisher and her writers have gone far.

Haters 2

It is sad to know we all have haters out there

They even write it in long blogs which puts you in fear,

These people are not right in the mind

If they ever snapped I would be very hard to find,

A person that has seen a Psych since they 17 in age

Yep it is creepy that they are not in a cage,

At a Psych ward where there is a padded room

I would feel better knowing these people were there so we wouldn't feel doomed.


Written By: Unique Poetry 2015

The Best Part of Crazy

The best part of crazy is the coffee
Every psych ward and therapy office
Comes equipped with the best.
When things fall apart there are little fixes:
Black coffee.
Cigarettes.
Psych Ward.

Bellevue Blues

Bellevue Blues
                        By Feo.

All my clothes are torn and stained with bleach , my teeth are yellow, my facial hair is grey.

Mornings are faraway and lost, my eyes lost, my spirit lost, my trousers halfway on, my boots half way on, staring into thought, deep thought.

I've seen grown men soil them selves,I've seen grown men cough up blood, I've seen bodies rolling on the cold marble floor of Bellevue, where the bathroom doors don't have locks, and they take your belt and shoe laces away.

I've sat next to grown men crying with cuts on there arms, I've smelled the odor of the old woman who's diaper needs changing, I watched the morning come up from my hospital bed, come, listen to the sounds of the ill.

I got the Bellevue Blues, so come take my clothes away, come to visit me through the looking glass, hold my hand as we walk through the hallways of the psych ward, hold me when they let me go, I'm always so glad to see you smiling.

How Many Times Have I Told You

how many times have i told you

You are worthless?

How many times have I pounded your head into the ground?

How many times have I thrown you into the psych ward?

How many times have I looked at you with scorn and derision?

How many times have I rejected you?

How many times have I tortured you?

How many times have I told you in so many ways to die?

You stubborn bastard

You won't leave

You have to get that damn truth out of you

Can't you see this world doesn't want you

Can't you see this world doesn't love you

Can't you see this world isn't ready for you

You stubborn son of a b*t*h

And you keep going

So what the hell do you want?

You have my attention.

Premium Member A Man With An Identity Lost To Memory

I once lost and forgot my entire memory.
I didn't possess any ID anywhere on me,
so I searched for, found and had a quick chat with a priest.
We then both decided to call the police.
Just a little something about yours truly that I'm sure you didn't know.
I was admitted into the local hospital's psych ward, as Patient: John Doe.

If there's more about the above that you would like to know,
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