THE POETRY OF PAIN
Poetry deals in the language of emotion and I have written a lot of poems when in the grips of a depression. The following poems that I have written talk about emotional pain and feelings of suicide. This is not to suggest that I am recommending suicide, I am only expressing the way I feel sometimes, so that others can feel that they are not alone. If you feel suicidal please go to your mental health provider or your priest.
On
this useless night
of
continual soul aching,
I
wonder why life turns brutal.
My
feelings in daylight hours
stay
locked in safety deposit boxes,
But
when when the sparkling sun
dips
down on the blood-red horizon
my
emotions howl like a furious blizzard.
Fear,
anger, love, guilt, rage
all
whip my psyche to battered bits.
Scenes
of the past
flash
like a kaleidoscope
of
Stephen King movies;
until
I fall exhausted into a psychotropic sleep.
The Grim Reaper’s Charms
Death,
the seducer
Whispers
softly
To
my lust
For
animation.
Offering
Mental
peace, cessation of pain
The
end of worry
And
toil.
Her
bony hand embraces mine
And
offers me the ride
Down
the dark tunnel
Towards
the light,
And
the sliding down
Before
eternity.
Death
the sorcerer,
Smooth
and eloquent,
Tempting,
tempting, me
Towards
another dimension.
Wanting
to hurtle me
Into
immortality
Only
half formed,
Prematurely
born
Wrested
from God’s operating table
And
from this mortal coil.
Death
takes advantage of my
Struggle
with the dual demons
Of
depression and despair
She
whispers.
By Katherine Tapley-Milton
Hide the madness,
Don’t let it splatter
All over the sidewalk
Where descent townsfolk
might
Read it.
Hide the madness,
Tuck it in tight
Like your winter scarf.
Neurons misfiring,
Thought processes tangled,
But don’t ever let on.
Your speech should be flawless and fluent:
Make small talk and open
doors for people
Fake it and hide the
cerebral confusion
And the cacophony of voices
That scream suicide and self
injury
Make yourself into another
Jane Doe
Whom nothing extraordinary
happens to.
COMPANION
By Katherine
Tapley-Milton
An
understanding
between
man and beast,
We
cuddle together
on
interminable wet Sundays
or
frigid winter nights.
While
I read, he purrs
in
contented feline bliss.
Head
on my sneaker
and body curled close.
Some
inexplicable bonds
keeping
the different two species
in
a quiet, gentle intimacy.
