We get sadistic,
As per the passage of time;
We must pay for it.
My dulciana
Agonised me again,
But the ballerina
Floored as I'd never been.
Warfare can not euphemize
With tiger reverberation;
We always decimalize
For vicinal desiccation!
Is a unifoliate unproductive
Or nonradioactive?
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 10–16, 2026)
An obscure panic
Haunts my days in reverie;
Gravity drags me.
Therapeutic
Therapeutic, is soothing.
Maybe some hot tea.
Something meaningful to everyone.
Hobbies and talents.
Your favorite pastime.
For me, it’s writing poetry.
Sounds from a piano in the background.
Time away from work.
What is your therapeutic recipe?
It could be anything pleasing.
Spending time with someone.
Kicking back being a couch potato.
Whatever it may be.
A therapeutic moment heavenly.
Speak your melodies
and I'll dream of harmonies
that will someday be befitting of your artistry
Similarly
Voice your euphony
and I'll dream of poetry
that will someday be worthy
of your flattery,
and lure you into rhapsody -
pure ecstasy with each word
that breathes between the pages
from beneath those eyes
that never cease to critique,
and a breath that reeks of deceit
and deserted dreams that I still cling to
If you’re older and somehow not dying,
Yet live with dementia or worse,
Prepare to be hit with some lying
Before your last ride in a hearse.
This strategy’s gaining approval
As nursing homes struggle to cope
With patients whose memory removal
Deprives them of reasons to hope.
So little white lies are suggested
Like, “Your husband will visit real soon”
Since the truth often can’t be digested
And no time will be quite opportune.
Or, “Let’s visit the nursery; maybe
You’ll help rock your child to sleep,”
Where a doll substitutes for the baby
Which remains where the memories keep.
If deception brings comfort, I wonder
Why, to me, it just doesn’t feel right
Reaching into one’s psyche to plunder
What the mind has kept tucked out of sight.
crackling noises
the only sounds of the night
I stared into the oranges and yellows
a therapeutic campfire that commanded silence
my thoughts sacred
Melodic memories play my mind like a fiddle
Onyx me red reciting in teal time like a riddle
Radio glows playing songs of old catchy tunes
Happy songs laughing songs sad songs of doom
I dance as if God’s hands lead me to the floor
I don’t care if people stare this song I adore
Music plays and it’s like a prayer for fancy feet
Therapeutic mood funky groove dance with me
My experience of a living power
that poetry brings to a wounded soul
having faced much stress and anxiety
due to my stammer which left a gaping hole
When I was encouraged to write poetry
some 20 years ago it brought release
especially letting out my emotions within
my inward thoughts found real peace
This was great therapy for me
at least finding a wat to speak
to explain my inner feelings at last
so that one's life is not at all bleak
Poetry is a great outlet that's for sure
to write with freedom via your pen
opening up one's mind to words
joining letters in a way that's future
Therapy is a power that's active
learn well what it can bring
poetically stirring raising you up
awaken one towards a certain zing
Trying to survive,
I began dreaming each day;
That tore me apart.
THERAPY’S THERAPEUTIC THERAPIST
Our poetry writing,
Is very therapeutic—
Healing all shared souls:-
Yes, poetry is God’s self-healing therapy;
Penning away depression with inspiration,
Fueled by our poetic words shared daily:-
Glory to God for all the shared sessions;
We healing with what’s said and read:-
Write on we poets,
We are God’s sent therapist—
Healing with the Word:-
What prayers may leave out,
Poetry will surely add it all in;
Quietly screaming its loud shout,
Streaming from Love’s inking pin:-
Yes, we’re therapists;
Treating with God’s healing words—
Poured from His cistern:-
Medicinal poetry,
miracle recipe,
ideal therapy
placebo poetry that heals
divine poesie...
A tonic for the soul on this fine day
To quit the ruminations of the mind,
Let barren walls to nature's lure give way
And leave life's dull banalities behind.
On bended knees I loosen stubborn ground
And tackle weeds too long allowed to roam.
A robin takes a furtive look around
In search of worms to bring back to his home.
Above, the tranquil sky is azure blue
And chiffon clouds are swiftly giving chase.
Red roses burst with stunning bloom anew
Entrancing with their fragrant sweet embrace.
The garden takes my worldly cares away;
A tonic for the soul on this fine day.
20.05.19
Garden Inspirations Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: BJ Legros Kelley
'Nature scene orphan sonnet poetry contest' : sponsored by Dale Gregory Cozart
Favourite Poem From May, 2019 Poetry Contest : sponsored by Julia Ward
To a tree,
universe is Time's co-arising health investment,
evolution of unfolding branches and their root systems,
merging in one co-arising
nondualistic yet dipolar appositional functions
Time of Light
and Time of DualDark,
Dark before dawn of regenerate hope,
Dark after absent dusk of despair.
For children of trees,
EartHealth
deep invests in dualdark ecology
merging fertile co-relational dreams
eco-empathic nights
decomposing health from empowering light,
and dark as deep folded
integral wealth thereof.
Regenerative investment-present/divestment-past
before future seasons
of creolizing kosmic grace,
well-planted light
evolved through enculturing
forest of oceanic breathing waves,
producing embryonic seeds
Synergetic God
of Bilateral Time's further co-arising regeneration
and co-gravitating degeneration.
It is therapy for me
to make the pen dance melodies
across an otherwise bleek
piece of paper.
To create words that don't exist
because I WANT TO is simply bliss or
to write about that crush that I want to kiss
in the third person as if it is a wish
of a young girl around 16-ish
can only be done in poetic form.
I can curse out my best friend or
ask God to let me into Heaven or
bunji jump off of clouds at night and
wake up flying a kite around the sunshine,
because I am the author of the masterpiece and
to me it is the best pain killer for reality.
It is MY therapy!
I can honor those who I loved so much
or degrade them to an anesthetic touch
just because
they pissed me OFF!
I can lay down and write haikus all day
about the rain personified or
the clarity of the water in the bay.
I can use words that those around me do not understand or
think with my pen in my mouth and
his heart in my hand or
vice versa or
write about sitting all day
while I stand.
I create a magical landscape
with a concrete jungle back drop or
sing a capella songs in hip hop.
It is my THERAPY!
And I can re-create my life
by myself
unjudged,
unrevised,
and fully certified.
Thank GOD for it.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.