The Creator of All, Spirit in the Wind
The Creator of all made me knowing I would
suffer and survive.
There are times when I cry out in despair,
what burden to be alive.
I kneel at the foot of my bed and ask Him,
Why? Help me and how shall I?
I was born with an illness that’s a roller
coaster that’s sometimes fun to ride.
But when it crashes at the bottom, all I
want to do is sleep and hide.
People do not understand the pain, inner
anger and sadness that keeps me in bed.
The heavy weight of fear and confusion that
makes me plod, not run instead.
My manic side spends too much money when
I’m sort of a high roller,
The bills come in and reality hits, once
again I lament, I am definitely Bipolar.
I know the darkness and isolation of
depression that follows the ride up the coaster.
One solace is knowing I am not alone in my
struggle and strife.
There have been many who share the mixed
bag of pain and creativity.
Patty Duke, Mark Vonnegut and Virginia
Woolfe make three.
It’s well reported they too had woes with
relationships and strained families.
The worst is when your children don’t
understand and run the other way.
The fear of “odd” behavior and
unwillingness to become educated and see,
Once understood it’s no more frightening
than skin cancer or minor surgery.
Just to struggle and stay well, there is a
burdensome price to pay.
Sometimes you just want to scream and say
“God why did you make me this way?”
He replies, I did it so that even with your
clever and creative mind,
You would end up having to trust in Me
alone, Spirit in the wind.
Copyright 2004 Thomas F. Williamson
by: TWAILA-JO GINN [email@example.com]
Thus the spiral begins again...
the fall into that dark lonely hole.
It starts so slow then speeds up without warning
no time to brace
the voices and sights
and oh yeah, don't forget the paranoia
One screams in silence for no one seems to hear..
screams for help, screams that fall on deafen ears.
Hopeless and mad,
She trudges along.
She knows she is not alone....
but it is a road that she feels she walks alone
Her friends and family try to help..
but they can only help so much
She reaches out to the proffessionals
but they are too busy..meetings and such
She reaches out to others like her...
searching for that understanding
she so desperately needs.
As she plummets, mind racing
she searches the edges
for a ledge to grab hold of
she fears she will not find one
and once again be at the bottom.
She has climbed up so many times
she is tired of fighting
why should she keep fighting
what she feels is an unbeatable battle?
Ah yes, her children
that is another story
They are her light at the end of the tunnel,
that gold medal for finishing the race,
her moon and sun.
It is mostly for them that she fights.
Again screaming without being heard.
People wonder how others can just "give up"
yet most won't listen to what that person is screaming
They hear what they want to...
understand what they want to
There are few in this world who actually try to understand
and honestly listen when their friend or family member screams
Out of the ones that do
only half are willing to get involved.
It is just as scary getting involved
as it is for the person who needs the help
only in different ways.
For this girl, the worst to do is
pity or belittle..
and most importantly, unless you really do
don't say you understand her feelings.
Amongst the falling and fighting,
there is agitation, anger for no reason.
all the bridges burned,
relationships lost or damaged beyond repair.
She has a hard time letting people in as she always thinks
there are hidden motives.
Nobody does anything without a reason..
the question remains
what is their reason?
It is hard to live with all the doubt
never knowing which thought is accurate.
There is an upside..
it feels so good, to be happy
to have energy, a love for life.
Everything looks bright
even the darkest night shines brightly.
It is like looking at a brand new world every morning
a world that is peaceful and sunny and warm.
It is a feeling of contentment
of happinness and security.
High on life you could say
the top of the highest mountain.
Racing thoughts abound
so much to do and say
no where near enough time for it all
so you talk and do things faster.
Ten feet tall and bullet-proof
But alas Newton's Law will kick in
and what goes up Must come down.
It is the biggest longest rollercoaster
of ones life.
But one thing is true..
eventually there will be level ground again
for however long it stays.
A Leaf Alone
Hanging is a dried leaf
From a bare, dark, December tree.
Winds gust against it.
Rain and snow fall upon it.
Still, one leaf hangs alone
Withholding against life's elements and unknowns.
Will it fall or will it hang on?
Will it lose the battle or will it win?
To fall shows a long way down.
Staying shows leaf as champion.
Using tools of coping, it hangs on.
Eventual descent is not surrendering
As a new leaf lies within,
Stronger, smarter, and filled with vigor
To face, overcome, and accept
Life's elements and unknowns.
Copyright ©2004 Carol J Herlihy
My Sword of Words
Christine, For Your Patience & Warm Embrace
Carol J. Herlihy
My keen sword of words wields many wounds
Accusations, insults, paranoia, obscenities
Deeply they slash, pierce and hurt my better half
Years of suppressed anger boils over like molten lava
I watch the victims of my viciousness but am helpless
To make myself stop
Hurt, wondering eyes question why I do this to those I love
Wishing they could escape my vengeful tirade.
Yet staying anyways to help me quell the fury that possesses me.
This mania takes me out of control.
Stabbing high and cutting low.
Psychotically I act, unable to stop.
Again and again this occurs
Hours of therapy and meds cant seem to cure
Words finally get through and firm hands grasp with strong
Arms holding me in firm embrace.
Reality comes back to me slowly as I disembark
The circling crazy train
Realizing damages reaped I collapse sobbing with sympathies
Ever fearful of this fiend that lurks within
An otherwise peaceful, loving person for days on end
Yet never knowing when…this monstrous mania
Will return to consume me once again
Day after day I struggle with my id
Conquest over this dark side must come from inside
Somewhere I possess this power to overcome
Somehow I must find my peace within
MY DARKEST HOUR
These voices inside they won't go away.
Try as I might there determined to stay.
They think I'm crazy but how can I make them see.
This really is not me.
It's an illusion a mask of shame.
All the medical people all have the answer.
But only I can find my way.
It's an uphill battle day by day.
Never knowing who the real me is going to start to say.
I feel trapped inside my own body with no way out.
I kick and I scream but no one can hear.
The ones all around me live in fear.
People judge you by what they see.
Why can't I remove all the masks and just be me.
Jewel Marie Ludovissy copyright 2004
manic depressive, I’m diagnosed to have been
but how many people now what it to mean?
severe mental illness, no cure, but one day?
a chemical imbalance, genetic they say!
alcohol and drugs for me there’s no need,
my mind takes me higher than one can conceive.
to stay there i wanted , limitless and free,
but exhaustion ,this illness the inevitable to be.
then the depression , the feeling so low
down as far as one can possibly go!
to loved ones around your so cold and so mean,
how can they love you for the way that you’ve been?
between the extremes , there’s another you must go,
thoughts and perceptions, you believe that you know!
to reach such ecstasy, you must pay the price ,
your brain being crushed, but who’s turning the vice?
© julie ann boylan, 1999
Published Anchor Books Yorkshire Inspirations 1999
Editor: Kelly Deacon
Sometimes I sit
And let my mind go
To the places it chooses....
And I look at the things
I try to keep hidden...
Deep inside, where nobody knows
Where only I go...
Then I close that door
and smile once more.
- by Rick 2003
spirit will soar
Into the sky
Deep into the
And then in an
It will fall
Deep into the
No reason or
No answer at all.
Just a sadness so
That is takes me
That I do not
want to be
- by Rick
bending and moving
my mind begins to dance
swaying and swirling
intoxicated by its own
horrified by its own thoughts
around and around
up and down
moving with such grace
a world of colors flowing
all my delight
and all my sorrow
oh, sweet mind of mine
so wrongly taken
may sweet peace
dance with you tonight
Thank you for the opportunity to
submit a poem.
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Boston, Ma 02116