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Coping with Poetry


paisleypanther

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paisleypanther

Hello everyone! I’ve been writing poetry ever since I can remember, and I wanted to share how poetry is a very helpful coping mechanism for those who are suffering from loss (whether it be friends, family, exes, etc.). I’ve been in cognitive and dialectical behavior therapy for about eight years now, and something frequently discussed is a topic called mindfulness. It’s essentially where you allow yourself to experience your thoughts and emotions without acting on them. You focus on observing your feelings with a nonjudgemental stance.

 

When struggling with loss, we tend to ruminate. We might regret our actions. We might try to figure out what went wrong. We might even blame ourselves. The more we focus on these things, the more elevated our emotions become. This can lead to what some call “downward spirals.” Spiraling, though common when healing from loss, causes a lot of unnecessary emotional pain.

 

A useful mindfulness technique that helps me a lot when I start spiraling is writing down exactly what I’m feeling. Writing (especially on paper) is super helpful because it allows you to physically interact with your thoughts. They aren’t just swirling around in your head anymore. They’re on a piece of paper for you to see and revisit. After a good writing session, you’ll probably find yourself feeling a lot better. I know I do.

 

Poetry is helpful for coping because not only do you get to write down exactly what you’re feeling, but you also get to be creative with it. Mental health professionals encourage people who are struggling to get creative because as humans, we feel powerful when we are making something. We feel a sense of control (something that we might not have felt for a long time). In your head, your thoughts may be painful, confusing, or even scary. When composing poetry, you’re able to also compose your thoughts and feelings in a tangible way that is wonderfully personal to your experience. You’re attending to your emotions while also creating something for yourself. So if you’ve been struggling lately, try writing some poems. I really hope it helps you during these hard times.

 

Poetry is a great way to care for and love yourself. Sharing poetry with others can also be super helpful for others who are struggling. Shane Koyczan, one of my favorite contemporary poets, uses his poems to resonate with and encourage others. I definitely recommend that you check out his work!

 

That being said, I made this thread for those who either want to share their own poetry or want to discuss how poetry has helped them cope during hard times. Because poetry is extremely personal in nature, please don’t make any mean comments or give unwanted criticism.

 

Here’s a poem written by yours truly to break the ice. I wrote this when I was suspicious that my ex was cheating on me.

 

I’m at a place

Between complacency and chaos.

Where feeling abandoned is just another feeling.

Like your teeth on my ear,

Or your palm on her breast.

 

My fingerprints are on your tongue:

The one you put between her legs.

The Circle of Treachery is inside my gut.

Blood rushes to my head.

All I see is red.

 

Everything is red.

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Very nice, paisleypanther.

 

I wrote a lot of poetry during hard or upsetting, tragic times in my life. A lot of it is very dark, reflecting my pain I guess. If I find one not so sensitive - and I feel comfortable posting I definitely will post it for you. But, I look forward to reading more of your own work.

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Could be poetry, but I took (almost, 95%) of all of my favorite artists’ songs and took a lyric from each song and mashed then all together into my own song/poem.

The result? I spent hours, days on it. It is still not perfect. I shuffled lines around I erased some and replaced them with others, some couldn’t find a spot for the longest time. I changed the narrative over and over.

Unfortunately, I believe, my main motivation was to try and impress my ex. It was my drive for it to show her my artistic side, and maybe reconnect with her on a deeper down level that my own words could not describe. I made the, I think, mistake of showing her. I have not touched the piece since.

 

I believe I’m going to try my hand at drawing my narrative of my emotions. Perhaps using the 5 stages of grief as the main storyboard. Of course, as I am not there, acceptance would just be a drawing of me on the “doorstep” of aceptance. What I would like it to, hopefully one day, look like. I’ve gone through many of the others already (although, I have not felt anger yet. It takes a lot to make me angry, but perhaps I went through this phase with different emotions).

Edit - spent some time thinking about it and reading a bit more into the 5 stages. I did have anger; to myself. “Why didn’t you do y?” “I was an idiot to do z” “I will never forgive myself.” I think I’ve moved mostly past this though. It comes up every now and then lately..maybe once every two days instead of twice a minute.

 

Thanks for the post. It just helps confirm that my idea to utilize a creative outlet would be great for myself. My emotions are admittlingly way too poweful for myself to handle, and when I was making my lyric-poem, despite the ends I wanted it to achieve, helped me gain a sense of control, a drive, and a way to try and truly understand the beast I have within.

Edited by Tigglesworth
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  • 2 weeks later...

Here is one of mine, paisleypanther.

 

Building castles in my mind, collecting clouds lost in time.

Dancing on the stars of June, tripping over lunar moons.

I blink and see into your eyes, discerning all your little lies.

Happily, we all will go, along a path of the thorny rose.

Bloody will our limbs be torn, unhappy are our hearts we mourn.

Sleep it beacons me each night, nightmares hasten its glorious flight.

Pull me this way, no, not that way with all my might.

Lay me on the pillow soft, brush my hair until mind does settle.

Wake me not, for I am stone and you my petal.

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"A useful mindfulness technique that helps me a lot when I start spiraling is writing down exactly what I’m feeling. Writing (especially on paper) is super helpful because it allows you to physically interact with your thoughts. They aren’t just swirling around in your head anymore. They’re on a piece of paper for you to see and revisit. After a good writing session, you’ll probably find yourself feeling a lot better. I know I do."

 

It is good to write down how you feel and the things that are bothering you.

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It turned out that having kept a journal for years actually helped me out of major depression. I hadn't read it and then trying to find some fact made me dig them out when I had depression and PTSD and then I read all of them in about three days and found myself again. So I encourage anyone to keep a journal they can refer back to. You can see patterns of behavior you'd never think of on yourself and others as well. And in my case, it kind of saved my life. I had lost myself. I read about who I was and how I got to where I was and came back.

 

Part of my journaling was also poetry. I think one of the best things about art and music and poetry is that you can make something good out of even something bad and at least that way, it's not all for naught.

 

I wrote a lot after I "came back." But I started with writing about others, not introspection. Then I began writing about myself a few months later and this is just one of many:

 

RESURRECTION

 

Salon divining street wraith

Tiny pins of light glance off her moving jacket

whirling in slow motion,

mirrored light gleaming in limo’d blackness

Moment in time

Her life screams through her face

in brief stabs of victory she’s ambushed mercilessly,

taking it down in its prime, the hard way.

Too hungry for opportunistic feeding

She likes ‘em warm and bleeding

 

Splice of life

Major edit

Throws it away like outgrown clothes

The lost pages a short loop playing slowly

Always keep the pretty ones

 

Dim illumination

Cabin in the woods, the angel dog

Half-selves lurking unformed

waiting, hoping, holding their ears

She goes alone

Alone, she returns

eyes ablaze

hurricane heart

Black glint of her pupils pin you at the door

Too late. She’s not kidding anymore

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The difference in my poetry from before the depression/PTSD and after is after, I pretty much wrote in a trance. It was coming straight from my soul. I'd put it down and come back later to edit it when I no longer had it in my head. Sometimes I didn't even remember I'd written it until way later.

 

When not writing about myself entirely, I have written a lot inspired by certain music artists that I was influenced by.

 

Here is the most recent one of those, and it still needs a lot of work.

 

THERE WAS A TIME

 

There was a time

one walked alone

inches above the ground

with comets roaring overhead, screaming over trees

Look up, you can see them.

Look down, see from in them.

Colors bred in colonies

painting your picture

feeding you

bringing you other gods

unprepared for what comes from them

unready and deaf

 

But nothing stopped it

 

What makes you lay it down?

strand of hair in a ghost’s hand

See it flicker as you turn your head

 

Cold colors

otherworldly

perfect symmetry

photoperception

Bladerunner beam

ice blue

frozen kaliedoscope

bullet riddled stop sign

your hidden laugh

 

There was a time

 

Play me

Play me

Play me away

Leave me here on the ridge three frets from the bridge

Hurl me into space on a chord that never fades

Native American wail dweller

Lurk behind a gold highway of steel and slide behind a moan

 

Never made it easy

 

But there was a time

the sky opened and wrote your ticket

Walked with stars

Slept with ghosts

apparitions real as life jumping on your grave

 

You pulled the guitar out of the stone and rocked this boneyard.

 

There was a time

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Your poems are wonderful, preraph. This part out of your first really clicked with me personally:

" Dim illumination

Cabin in the woods, the angel dog

Half-selves lurking unformed

waiting, hoping, holding their ears

She goes alone

Alone, she returns

eyes ablaze

hurricane heart

Black glint of her pupils pin you at the door

Too late. She’s not kidding anymore"

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todreaminblue

i agree op ....poetry....is a gift....mine is often a bit simple

i feel if i can simplify my poetry into reality maybe my reality will simplify into poetry....

 

the paisley leaves begin to fall,

was summer ever here at all,

a plover mother's lonely call,

she never had a nest

not at all.....deb

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todreaminblue

i thought i heard you dying on the phone,

your laugh echoed like a no ones home,

then i realized no matter how far i roam,

over desert or sea waves of white tipped foam,

it was always my destiny to be alone,

because i never really owned a phone.....deb

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todreaminblue

an inner cry a soundless

echo,echo

grave thoughts,groundless

among strange bed fellows,

like is sunlight on a broken column,

still yellow,yellow

whispers from T.S Eliot,

from men of hollow,

this is the way the world ends to follow,

And the descent

Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

 

For Thine is

Life is

For Thine is the

 

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

quote from T.S Eliot's Hollow men one of my favorite poems for pure imagery..awesome poem .... Edited by todreaminblue
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todreaminblue

 

THERE WAS A TIME

 

There was a time

one walked alone

inches above the ground

with comets roaring overhead, screaming over trees

Look up, you can see them.

Look down, see from in them.

Colors bred in colonies

painting your picture

feeding you

bringing you other gods

unprepared for what comes from them

unready and deaf

 

But nothing stopped it

 

What makes you lay it down?

strand of hair in a ghost’s hand

See it flicker as you turn your head

 

Cold colors

otherworldly

perfect symmetry

photoperception

Bladerunner beam

ice blue

frozen kaliedoscope

bullet riddled stop sign

your hidden laugh

 

There was a time

 

Play me

Play me

Play me away

Leave me here on the ridge three frets from the bridge

Hurl me into space on a chord that never fades

Native American wail dweller

Lurk behind a gold highway of steel and slide behind a moan

 

Never made it easy

 

But there was a time

the sky opened and wrote your ticket

Walked with stars

Slept with ghosts

apparitions real as life jumping on your grave

 

You pulled the guitar out of the stone and rocked this boneyard.

 

There was a time

 

 

my favorite images are walked with stars and slept with ghosts...inspiring beautiful lines pre raph...two word killer line...."hurricane heart"...lots of thoughtful food in your poetry pre raph....deb

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todreaminblue

god in his infinite wisdom turned us all blue,

just about when we found an ocean of you,

kept us invisible with blue waves to swim through,

us as blue as the sky where the wildest birds flew....

 

we grew tired and looked for some shade,

joined with the sunlight and willows

and green tree leaves were made,

that gave our blue blood the air it did need,

to turn red for predation to feed,

and now when sunlight has gone,

the night comes for our dreams carry on,

the dream of god in his infinite wisdom,who turned us all blue,

we can dream of the oceans,and the lonely ocean of you....deb

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I wrote this one when I was addicted to drugs and in a bad place a few years ago

 

"I feel like I'm half retarded,

regarded as Patrick starfish,

I'll probably die a starving artist

barred from the market like Marxists,

My face on milk cartons, apartment evicted,

amidst the garbage and dishes

I'll kick the bucket while I'm arched in the kitchen

partially in the sink with prescription pills in my fist and

a horribly written note I'd be sorry I didn't finish"

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93 Days

 

I never saw you when you left

Never got a hug or a kiss

After four years of magic

You were just gone

 

You are no longer a human in the flesh

Just words on a screen

Your beauty never to be seen

My world is just like a dream

 

It’s like chasing a ghost.

Staring at a screen

Hoping and hoping and hoping

Just for a few words

 

Just to know you still exist

Even just as words on a screen

You say you can’t see me in the flesh

Cause you will weaken and relent.

 

It’s been ninety three days since you walked

We haven’t touched we haven’t talked.

The hole in me just won’t heal.

How can I stop what I feel?

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The night

 

This night, an ending song uncrowned.

It cries deep below the surface.

But the tears make no sound.

Dreams melt by flickering candlelight.

 

My beautiful darkness.

Come with me; let me show you where to play.

A new fantasy, a new life a new place to lie.

Memories like cancer eat my soul.

 

All that my eyes can see are reflected

in soft light on window sills

O how bitter this pill

Love is not meant to be cruel

 

A new day, new hope, a prayer

Clouded in fog, this pain to share

Away from the dark, moving into the light

Dark shadows won’t give up without a fight

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todreaminblue

in the softness of shadows ,

in the absence of light,

character develops

then learns how to fight.

 

in the presence of storms,

with still waters missing,

sailors learn to sail,

to return to lips they miss kissing.

 

in darkness and struggle,

where hardships breathe life,

we humans have to keep going,

through all sorts of strife.

 

whatever we go through,

how far we fall,

our character develops even,

when we feel small

 

 

our character is there,

outstretched,reaching for light

all we have to do ,

is never give up the fight.......deb

 

character like a photograph, develops in darkness by Yousef Karsh

Edited by todreaminblue
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paisleypanther

I'm so happy there are people who are contributing to this thread! Poetry is so great and it's nice to know there are others who want to share it with this community :D

 

Here's another poem I wrote recently. Like the last, it's about my ex and how alcoholism hurt him and our past relationship.

 

You can’t hold me

While carrying the past

Used condoms on the floorboards

Slime green glow of a downtown club

Love feels good

When it’s not made to last

And you lean in close then off you go

Looking to find yourself at the bottom of a bottle

Always drunk when you’re inside her

Your car breaks down as much as you do

Tempting fate with a model so old

I know exactly where you’ll find yourself

Dead in that car you never sold

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  • 2 weeks later...
todreaminblue

gliding monsters beneath a sea,

a raging sky hides but exists to be,

the captives will one day be free,

their shackles loosed for all to see.

people living large in laps of luxury,

the entitled with no belief in charity,

do mock the rags and bones of poverty

 

the earth groans under fire and flood,

the cities in liquor drown innocent blood,

countries starve and rape the soil,

trees fall as plastic oceans boil,

the fishes float through airless water,

tears flow from unclaimed daughters....

 

yet amidst the strife peril and war,

theres a light through an open door,

where a tree stands tall to fall no more,

around the tree, soft earth of broken ground,

where whispering leaves intone a hopeful sound.

 

this is not the end....this is not the end...this is not the end

i will not fall break or bend

birds do fly,babies will cry,

waves still sigh and hush,

children to come and rush,

flowers will always grow

dont you know......dont you know.......

 

deb

Edited by todreaminblue
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I'm usually effusive, but this is my favorite of my couple of short poems:

 

Even as he stood in the door of the murky bar

outlined against the clear blue day of her youth

he seemed like a phantom

There was something she knew in the swivel of his eyes

the quick curled smirk of his lopsided smile

the deceptiveness of his brow

as even then he lied to please her

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todreaminblue
I'm usually effusive, but this is my favorite of my couple of short poems:

 

Even as he stood in the door of the murky bar

outlined against the clear blue day of her youth

he seemed like a phantom

There was something she knew in the swivel of his eyes

the quick curled smirk of his lopsided smile

the deceptiveness of his brow

as even then he lied to please her

 

this is really thought provoking pre raph...you know that i have found a lot of poetry that contains the color blue

 

theres this poetess who was ocd about the color blue and wrote a book about it ...i will try and find her and the book again and post it here for you i think its in my amazon......i love the poem i have quoted from you who wrote it was it you?

 

 

edit i read your post again it is yours...i love it

 

heres the book i mentioned pre raph...

 

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6798263-bluets

Edited by todreaminblue
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That's a cool idea for a collection, isn't it? I didn't download as it wanted to make me let it put an ad extension, but may look for it next time I'm at the big used bookstore.

 

Yes, I'm only posting ones I wrote. Glad you like it! I like it because it captures a memory or two.

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todreaminblue

i missed your smile one day,

and realised you were never here to stay,

seems like forever since you went away,

even the skies are still blue and even i still pray,

born by the loss and smiles that i kiss,

heart break comes and kindness i miss.

 

 

days go by and into the ache of a salty night,

i have forgotten your face and lost my sight,

all in the world moves to turn the days of yore,

everyone blind but for hope and faith once more......deb

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todreaminblue

I kept my distance ,

i held my pride,

until i saw those denzel eyes.

 

you had that calm and loving stare,

and all the qualities that i cared,

i fell in love as did you,

and years followed that we went through.

 

but over years of storms and calm,

somehow the world came in and did us harm,

i still loved those denzel eyes,

but they were often filled with deceit and lies.

 

would i have kept my distance and held my pride,

had i known what would fill those denzel eyes,

would i have stayed through all those lies

what was what is or what could have been,

is beyond my sight and cannot be seen,

 

what i do know for sure,

is what is never to have a cure,

because now three daughters i have grown,

have those denzel eyes i have always known,

that calm and ever loving stare,

and all those qualities that i care,

so thank you mr denzel eyes,

though through the years i often cried

i dont regret the deceit or lies

i cant live with regret

my daughters have denzel eyes,

........deb

Edited by todreaminblue
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Restless and weary, sleep won't come

I crawl from my supposed slumber

Down my top floor stairs

Into a foggy mist

A strange dream like state

Yet I remain awake

While visions carefully partake

In playing games with my senses

I pray for only darkness

So I can hide inside it

Not a backlit fogginess

Where I constantly feel his wet kiss.

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