Saturday, 28 April 2012

Distress and Recovery Poems

25 year tears


Tears come
When they want to
When you let them
Only then

Tears saved
One by one for years
Appear strangely
On rainy days
In unexpected places
Feel comforted
By watery friends
Flow freely
Almost happily
Relieve tension
So clearly
Of long-forgotten
Constant grief





A way away


The one track road goes one way up
It's northwards to the sea
Water flows in varied ways
It seems at least more free

Sleepless nights in windy ports
The revving of the air
A stewing mess of worn-out thoughts
A hairy shirt to wear

The green outside is startling
My eyes can barely cope
They breathe a little better now
A rinse has eased the soap

The empty beach is magical
It sells no candy floss
Alone with you I smell my life
The getting and the loss





Alone place


Don't leave me
Alone is not a place
I want to be
It's not
What it used to be
It's not
A chance
For rest or recuperation
It's not
At all
It's the most noise
And screeching confusion
In the smallest space
I stand on
One leg
Or one toe even
Balancing in that most
Unbalanced way
Bombarded on every side
By noise and waves
And prodding fingers
Energy wastes itself
Beating my every surface
When I'm alone

When you're here
It leaves me be a while
I know that's not
An answer
I know that's
A cop out
I know
I should I really should
This time
Counselling, alternative therapies and yoga
I know I know
But that doesn't help me
When alone
When fear does its
Paralysing worst
Gets me
On the
One toe
Head bowed
Brain suitably whipped and battered
My, my, this masochism
Really must stop
We must stop meeting like this
I and I
In the small space
The smallest of small
The end of it all
The throwing it all away
No sad song does it justice
It is a loveless matter
I and I
When alone
It is the fullest emptiness
I know
Don't go
And yet
Don't go





D days


Some days
Words appear
Like presents
I don't deserve
(Or do I?)
Some days
I see nothing
Feel less
I can't help it
(Can I?)
Some days
I watch TV
It's easy
All I'm good for
(Is that right?)
Some days
I gloom
And pick my head
It annoys me
(So why's that?)
Then some days
I write and
Write and
It never amounts to
(Nothing right?)
And some days
I just try
To be normal
But that won't work
(It never does)
So some tired days
I don't try
I just play dead
(And I'm quite good at it)





Float on


It feels like
Walking downhill
Even when it's flat

It's very
To be feeling that

There's no pain
But it's hurting
I'm very ill at ease

It's more like
Fear of floating
On land as well as seas





Free at last


Just maybe I'm a balloon
Rubbery surface, taut skin
That would explain all the hot air
The floating business, the holding in

A leftover plaything
From a fun day or fête
Perhaps tied to a pushchair
All thoughts on escape

I pull and I tug
Because upwards feels right
So light, I feel empty
My string thin but quite tight

If I ever break free
I will lose sight of ground
I will fly high, flit quickly
I will never come down





Hiding in the toilet of life


Shivering and terrified
Overwhelmed by everything
Deep inside I go to hide
Not coming out for anything

It’s small in here but sort of safe
I see the door, it’s closed I’m sure
There’s noise and laughing just outside
I hear it all and nothing more

I sit quite still, it’s all too harsh
The sound, the light, the spinning sphere
My heavy head against the wall
Where can you run once you’ve run here?





Just thinking


Doing the dishes
Walking the dog
Waiting for buses
Hating your job
Climbing a mountain
Assembling a shelf
All of these chores
Give you time to yourself
To think your own thoughts
And to hear your own say
We need the quiet time
We need peace, every day





Problems with value


I am not worthy

I breathe in
Approximately one eighth
Of the required amount
Of air to fill my lungs
I tell myself
Make do with that
You greedy
Spread it thinly
It'll last

I breathe out
And hurt

I am
A little hard on myself







I simply had a heavy rucksack
Nothing metaphorical about it
No worries
Just a bag full of
Spare trousers
In case of rain
What a bloody relief





Simple stuff


Stream rushing down the hillside
Cool, clean and with direction
How I would like to be you
Not dazed, not lost, not sad
Too murky to mention
Not hopelessly, stupidly
Stumbling through

Tree growing tall in woodland
Strong, useful, admirable too
How I would like to be you
Not pathetic or rattled
By a host of minor phobic complaints
Not rootless
No let's hear it for roots
For without them what is there
To remain true to?

Sand collected down on the shoreline
Intricate, simple, the best of extremes
Oh how very much I would like to be you
Broken but whole, moving but still
Dead but so very busy still being around
The answers I crave
I see them in you





The way life should be


There's something that keeps on bothering me
It won't go away, it's always there
This isn't the way my life should be

I won't be going down in history
I've done nothing special so who would care
That there's something that keeps on bothering me

No honours, no glamour and no money
Just routine and hum-drum days to spare
This isn't the way my life should be

I try to watch less on TV
The pace of life seems so unfair
And all these things keep bothering me

I look around and the world I see
Seems made for those who do and dare
This isn't the way my life should be

I've let myself down spectacularly
Self-pity mixed up with true despair
And that something, it keeps on bothering me
This isn't the way my life should be





This colour


Are you
Low in mood
In the pits
Below blue
Down where it's kind of
Or blue times blue
Where it's bluer than
You can imagine
On the days when
Other colours
Can still be seen
Remember green anyone?
I see green
But I don't believe it
Now I think
No I am sure
That what looks like green
That grass that tree
That's merely blue in thin disguise
It looks like green because
Unbeknownst to us
We all wear yellow-tinted glasses
To hide the terrible truth
About blue





Waiting for a cure


Sitting in a darkened room
Listening to quiet
Making lists of everything
Too afraid to try it
Traffic splashing past
Dreaming oddly in the day
Disappearing fast
Taking herbal pills and tea
Kingdom come has been
Looking at some Nescafé
Finding it obscene
Cutting down on alcohol
Becoming very staid
Watching through a telescope
A very sorry trade
Hoping for a miracle
Never seeing one
Sitting in a darkened room
Is there worse still to come?





Warts and all


Which bit of you
Do you most despise?
Your feet? Your nose?
Your little piggy eyes?

Do you have fat layers
That you wish weren’t there?
Well, my friends, work with me,
Learn not to care

Let’s learn to love failings
From heads down to toes
See strength in our weak spots
Just highs in our lows

Let’s take the worst night out
And make it our best
We are better and wiser
We are up to the test





Worry cycle


Stress you out
Stress keeps you up
You start to panic
Breeds panic
Breeds more panic
Too much panic
Is depressing
Makes you tired
But you can't sleep
For the stress
That's sad
Sad and useless
Totally inexcusable
What have you got
To worry about exactly?

All poems by Rachel Fox (some time after 1997)

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