“If only, if only,” the young mother sighs, “I did all the chores;” there’s hope in her eyes. She washes and foldses and relocates toys. She vacuums and bleaches and … Continue reading If Only, a poem about motherhood
This is a free verse poem I wrote because I have been struggling with my PTSD lately. This poem is for anyone that has ever been hurt before. I hope … Continue reading Empty Your Pockets
I would not look upon my anger as something foreign to me that I have to fight. I have to deal with my anger with care, with love, with tenderness, … Continue reading Drowning In Thought: Seeking A Corridor of Courage.
I was fortunate, however, to have some fantastic contributor bloggers connected to The Bipolar Writer blog that has helped bring us back to prominence. What started to drive me again was the content that others were writing. It was terrific to see the many guest bloggers putting themselves out there on my blog trusting that things would work out in the end.
Another influential writer in my own life Hemingway had a long history of mental illness. Hemingway, known at the time as the most celebrated American Writer, but had his demons he was fighting over the course of his life.
I know if I pass this point, it will take a panic attack to get me to turn back.
I pass it without issue, but it’s not long before the panic fully sets in.
I am losing myself on the highway.
My biggest fear.
She should have outgrown it— she’s four— long ago
it can only stretch from her toes to torso.
But, as kids we have trouble letting things go
why it still makes her shine all aglow? I don’t know.
Empty days pass through
the hourglass of life as winter offers little hope.
Figures never stay—
words fall like snow around me but never penetrate.