PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In the cacophony of existence, a voice strains—

Forty-plus years of searching,

A lifetime of pains.

Words crumble to ash, unheard and unseen,

Lost in society's vast, indifferent machine.

Neurodivergent synapses spark and sputter,

A mind wired differently, thoughts all a-flutter.

Autism's maze, ADHD's relentless tide,

Trauma's shadows where nightmares reside.

Rejection's barbs, familiar as my own skin,

Each "no" a thorn, each silence a coffin.

Dysphoria whispers, "You don't belong here,"

In a world that sings harsh and unclear.

Nonbinary, queer, asexual—labels that confound,

A self yet unanchored, unsafe, unbound.

Isolation creeps, a suffocating shroud,

Drowning amid the indifferent crowd.

Empathy burns, a fire beneath the skin,

A curse, a gift, searing from within.

But who hears the helper's muffled plea?

Who sees the saviour drowning at sea?

Knowledge hard-earned through years of strife,

Wisdom gleaned from a fractured life.

Yet warnings fall on ears deafened by fear,

As others march blindly towards perils near.

The tribe remains elusive, a shimmering mirage,

Fading with each misunderstanding, each barrage

Of blank stares, of glances that never linger,

Of people who look, but fail to see the singer.

Helplessness learned, a bitter draught to swallow,

As hope's embers fade, leaving the heart hollow.

The voice grows hoarse, the weary spirit mired,

Unwanted, unseen, and uninspired.

In this abyss of unbelonging, deep and wide,

Echoes the cry of a soul with nowhere to hide.

For connection, for understanding, for home,

In a world where different means forever alone.

Senses overload: lights blind, sounds pierce,

The world a tempest, wild and fierce.

Touch that scorches, smells that choke and smother,

Each day a battle, one after another.

Yet still it burns, this invisible flame,

Flickering, sputtering, but never quite tame.

In the endless night, it stubbornly glows,

A beacon of self that nobody knows.

How long can it endure, this hidden pyre?

Will it fade from view or burn ever higher?

In the silence between heartbeats, it persists,

A testament to a life that still exists.

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.