PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 

 

I am! Yet what I am, who comprehends?

     My lifelines falter like a fading star.

I am the vessel where my torment ends,

     Vestibular vertigo, near and far.

The dizzying world whose balance I have lost—

And yet I am—I live—though I am tossed

 

 

Into the tempest of dismissive eyes,

     Into the churning sea of disbelief,

Where decades of authenticated cries

     Find no harbour, no shore, no relief.

And all that's dear grows distant in the mist,

My Millie gone, my comfort ceased to exist.

 

 

I walk on fractured paths none understand,

     Each step a trial through fibrous burning flame.

Authorities observe with folded hands,

     Their coffers full, while I bear all the blame.

I labour through six days of ceaseless strain,

Yet cannot shake the shackles of this pain.

 

 

I long for centres where compassion dwells,

     For quiet corners where truth might flourish still;

Instead, I find but empty, hollow shells

     Of systems built to break, not heal or fill.

The medical reports pile high, unread,

While hunger gnaws beneath each sunset red.

 

 

If those who govern, those who claim to care

     Choose wilful blindness as they watch me fall,

Why not complete what suffering laid bare?

     A kinder end than no response at all.

The noose of neglect tightens day by day—

At least be honest as you turn away.

 

 

So let me lie where honesty prevails,

     The earth below; above, Australian skies.

No more false promises or fairy tales,

     Just peace at last when weary spirit flies.

What mercy is there in prolonged decay?

When swift release would end this cruel display

 

 

 

Discordant Note

Scratching, floating

Hanging in the air

 

 

Pressure ebbs and flows 

Headpiece filled with straw

 

 

A twisted melody lingers

Confusion and rage entwined 

Resentment's bitter sting

Wrestles with sorrow's whine

 

 

Innocence stolen, trust shattered

By hands meant to protect

 

 

The child within still bleeds

Silently searching, begging for respect 

 

 

Justice denied, our secrets buried

Master manipulator 

A monster cloaked in lies

 

 

Crimes still hidden 

Despite Death's hand

Too late for tortured cries

 

 

Feet of clay now returned to dust

From whence they darkly came

Leaving behind a tangled mess

Of trauma, grief and shame 

 

 

The urge to desecrate, destroy

Wage war upon their grave

Wrestling with guilt, pity and relief 

Yes, he is no more

But I am not yet saved

 

 

This victory feels hollow 

An unearned, empty gift

When wounds still pulse and throb

No closure, the burdens unshift 

 

 

 

I imagine looking for the tombstone,

Fists and soul clenched tight,

Anger, disgust, and rage.

 

 

Shadows cast doubt over my morals,

Compass dysfunctional, truth estranged.

Like Basque tongues tangled with Ainu clicks,

A labyrinth of questions ethics inflicts.

 

 

No tears of mourning shed

No idea the monster was laid to rest

Three years later, a happy accident

Release a demon locked deep in my chest

 

 

How to reconcile the little child

Who needed love and care

With the person now made to carry

This discordant note hanging in the air

 

 

In the depths of this discordance 

Frustration and confusion still rise

Dare I confront the shadows

Curse their peaceful demise?

 

 

Every anguished scream swallowed 

Each day, coerced, suffocated in silence

Transmuting years of buried aches

Why not release in rightful fierce violence?

 

 

Through serpentine paths of healing

Piece by shattered piece remade,

Scars shimmering with untold stories 

Of battles braved and traumas mourned

 

 

In owning all that was endured

By innocent hands and shattered trust

Languidly learning to cradle, soothe

My inner child waiting, weeping in the dust

 

 

Each breath is an act of bravery

Every step is defiant, resolute 

Reclaiming fractured narratives

No longer voiceless or mute

Through my poetry, I find release

May its rhythm grant me peace.

 

 

This journey from victim to victor

Is paved with shards of broken self

Reassembled by courageous hands

Into mosaics of pain and health 

 

 

A symphony of survival

Echoes in the spaces in between

I cannot rewrite my cruel history 

I yearn like others to live and dream

 

 

Beyond the reach of phantom hands

That sought to break and steal and mar

I rise in revolutionary softness

Tempered by battles, reminded by scars

 

 

The discordant note, a stubborn seed, 

Resists the soil, its tyranny decreed, 

Yet woven slow, within the larger frame, 

An ostinato may conquer its shame, 

Finds solace in the weave, a timeless plea, 

Echoing Eliot, Stravinsky rewrites history. 

 

 

Amidst the onslaught of festive frenzy,
Neurodivergent minds reel a tempest here to sear.
Senses assaulted, relentlessly vexed,
Christmas chaos leaves us perplexed.


Masking's breaking, taking weight, a suffocating shroud,
Authenticity lost in the neurotypical crowd.
ADHD autism's ache, an adult's disgrace,
So, invisible struggles are present in this merry place.


Pain's persistent, pounding refrain, an endless score,
Fibromyalgia's claws, forever tore.
Spine curved like a question mark,
Vertigo's dance, a dizzying arc.


Poverty's clutch cuts deep, leave plans in disarray,
Opportunities vanish, like mist in the day.
Isolation, depression, chronic cursed alone,
In a world where bonds stretch, then are gone.


Trauma mars, leaves scars, rape's brutal seal,
cPTSD's tortures - terrors forever real.
Triggers flashbacks, a minefield within,
Clock tick-tocks, the night's wearing thin.


Passivity creeps in just like a mischievous elf,
A sinister spirit keeps us captive, steals our self.
Painfully forcing out a cry, on deaf ears they fall,
"You knew they wouldn't", it sneers, "more unanswered calls".


In despair's abyss, hope's flicker dies,
As the world rejoices, behind a joyful disguise.
Countless unseen battles and unheard cries,
Anguish, desperation, pain, do naked eyes lie?


To those who feign concern, a warning rings clear,
Your platitudes and neglect, a deafening sneer.
For in the depths of despair, a reckoning brews,
When the desperate depart, with nothing to lose.


In the sombre, silent night, when alienation reigns,
The psyche buckles, under the weight of its chains.
Remember, you who turned a blind eye,
The blood on your hands as the outcast dies.


So let the silence shatter, let the truth be known,
For the neglected and broken, forever alone.
May their memory haunt, may their absence resound,
A damning indictment, of the help never found.


Silently in the night, isolation's doom looms,
For those left to rot, in desolation's tombs.
A scourge on false kindness, on empathy's dearth,
As the forgotten depart, from this merciless Earth.


A warning to those who still pretend to care,
Of the anguish hidden, behind festive despair's lair.
Family friends forsaken in desolation's night,
Cast aside, ignored as time ticks on, year's plight.


In the silent night, a dirge ascends,
For those struggling, lost at the year's end.
Society's apathy, an unpalatable bitter pill,
Washed down with tears, we fade away against our will.


Let the silence break; let the truth be told,
Of the torment endured, the agony untold.
In summer's sweat, a reckoning should rise,
Power imbalances now, no escape our fate's demise.


May our ghosts haunt the whole season bright,
Reminding us of those for whom this time's a blight.
In the season's glare, coalescing shadows reign,
Numerous reasons, curses feeding this pain.


A moment of stillness, amidst the hurricane,
A flicker of self, in the endless pain.
Battered and bruised, yet still we stand,
In defiance of a world, that refuses to understand.


Whilst it is true, many times I have tried,
But for my animals, it is on me that they rely.
As night follows day and day follows night,
Dark forces frantically fighting, stealing my fight.


Hope's a medicine, both a curse and a sure cure,
Healing if repeatedly given - the source pure.
Decidedly dangerous, deadly, dangled as a prize,
Breaking faith's wraith, soon you and society they'll despise.


A pox on ableism, on empathy's lack,
As we vanish slowly, our lives off-track.
In the silent night, our requiem it plays,
The forgotten ones, left on birthdays and holidays.

 

 

The Symphony of Woodpeckers

 

 

In the forest's heart, where shadows play,

Woodpeckers thrive in their unique way.

From Picus viridis, green and bright,

To others that grace the woods with might.

 

 

European Green Woodpecker (Picus viridis)

 

In emerald hues, the green woodpecker,

With rhythmic beats, it marks its sector,

pü-pü-pü-pü-pü-pü-pü,

A melody both wild and true.

In meadows lush, it hunts for ants,

With probing tongue, it takes its chance.

It drills for prey in hollowed trees,

Where insects dwell, it finds its ease.

 

Downy Woodpecker (Picoides pubescens)

 

Small and spry, with a gentle call,

Its tiny beak, a tool for all,

*pik* it cries, with whinnying fall,

In suburban parks, it stands tall.

It flits through trees with nimble grace,

In orchards sweet, it finds its place.

On suet feeders, it will dine,

In winter months, a lifeline fine.

 

Hairy Woodpecker (Picoides villosus)

 

Larger kin with a bill so long,

Its drumming fast, a rapid song,

*peek!* it calls, a sharp, strong tone,

In deeper woods, it finds its home.

With powerful pecks, it drills for prey,

In towering pines, it spends its day.

It scales the bark to find its feast,

In beetle larvae, it finds peace.

 

Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus)

 

A giant with a crest of flame,

Its powerful peck, a forest claim,

tap̚tap̚tap̚, it carves its niche,

In ancient trees, where secrets stitch.

In forests old, it digs for grubs,

With mighty force, it splits the shrubs.

Its laughter rings through wooded halls,

In courtship flights, it swoops and calls.

 

Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus)

 

With spotted belly and a bib of black,

It forages ground, no need to hack,

kyü-kyü-kyück, it calls with grace,

In open fields, it finds its place.

On grassy plains, it seeks its feast,

With ants and beetles, it finds peace.

It drums on ground in rhythmic dance,

In courtship's spell, it takes its chance.

 

Three-toed Woodpecker (Picoides tridactylus)

 

In northern woods, where spruces stand,

It scales the bark with skilled hand,

Removing strips to find its prey,

In beetle galleries, it stays.

Its quiet taps are soft and light,

In snowy realms, it finds delight.

 

 

Each species, unique in form and song,

Evolved to fit where they belong,

From beak to call, each niche they fill,

A testament to nature's will.

With varied beaks and feathers bright,

They've carved their paths in day and night.

 

 

In dappled light, where leaves entwine,

Woodpeckers dance, a sight divine,

With every tap̚, a note of grace,

A symphony in nature's space.

So let us laud these feathered sprites,

In morning's glow and moonlit nights,

For woodpeckers, diverse and fair,

Bring music to the woodland air.

 

 

Amidst the fields, the forests, and the streams,

Where once I roamed, a child of nature's dreams,

I see a sight that breaks my heart in two,

Abject poverty, homelessness, and hunger too.

 

The government stands by their eyes don't care,

Inaction and neglect, its cruellest affair,

In the city's alleys and darkened streets,

The homeless suffer, only pain at their feet.

 

Hunger, pain, and depression take their toll,

On those who cannot flee this endless hole,

And in the night, come whispers of suicide,

To end the pain, they can no longer hide.

 

And yet they rise each morning, with a will,

To face another day, and all that it will bring,

With a courage born of desperation, so strong,

A strength that nature's children have always known.

 

So let us not forget the homeless,

The poor and hungry, with pain in their soul,

For in their suffering, we see,

The toll that life can take, on the weakest and the bold.

 

And let us demand from those in power,

Action, not indifference, to this plight,

For in our collective silence, we see,

The cost of government inaction, day and night.