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One day,
there won't be a knock
or a call to announce where I am.
I'll walk across your ribs,
towards the light of your heart,
to a door that swings wide open
to a place where I am welcome,
a place that I've earned the right to be.

It takes courage to open your home
to someone.
Each room held up by boards
of trust.
your head, your mouth,
an attic filled with old memories,
fondled by silence,
as patient as you are.
I would never evoke your wrath.
As sturdy as those boards are,
I know they still creak,
eager to lash out.
Not in vain, but out of protection.

If one day that is the case,
I will accept it,
for it is not just your heart
but all of you that is my home.
And if something is broken,
we'll work to fix and repair
what is torn apart.

Here, in you, I am home.
And I will take care of every part
of you.
One day,
there won't be a knock
or a call to announce where I am,
because you'll already know.
I wouldn't accept your key
if I weren't absolutely sure
that I wanted to call you home
Francesca Dec 2024
Three dinner mats are placed,
Carefully laid, evenly spaced.

A candle lit warmly,
The ironic sense of home in a way.

Cutlery shining, stating its place,
Though one seems to have been erased.

They're four people,
In this place called home.

The candle was not lit for me,
Bright, present but unknown.

Yet you say its best to leave me alone,
For i am damaged, very unknown.

So I linger, as they're three dinner mats instead of four,

Maybe in another life you will notice me some more.
silvervi Dec 2024
Once anxiety hits in
It spreads around like lava
Projecting negativity
And causing so much drama

So I increase awareness
To end this pattern's madness
Restoring back my mindset
Slowing down, gentle reset

Breathing consciously
I remind myself
I am the one responsible
For my mental health

Comparison arises
It causes an earthquake
This is the perfect timing
To become awake.
Noticing this - is enough. The mind remembers the neural paths of awareness and each time it will get easier.
Francesca Dec 2024
If I let you read my poems,
      I let you guide into my soul,
Flourished by my deepest thoughts,
      Ways in which I do not tell the world,
Yet, my words have such meaning,
       Such song in the heart.

And if I let you read my poems,
        I let you read a new me,
A chapter that began too long ago,
       As I drift into a lingering sadness,
Writing my way into therapy.  

When I let you read my poems,
        Don't shout to help me,
These poems are quite, subtle to be,
         Silent, yet so loud underneath,
What is it that lies beneath?

And when I let you read my poems,
I have given you my wrenching soul,
Etching to be free,
Connections lie between the lines,
Even when you dont understand, listen to me.

So when I let you read my poems,
I want you to wonder to the world of me,
Watch my soul freeing with relief,
To know that someone knows the hideous parts of me,
That the world will never see.
Mark Penfold Dec 2024
When old age takes you, years hence, moves, misshapes and betwixt you into mortal parts,
Where once lost memories and thoughts, take centre stage and regret, like famished rodents, gnaw upon your withered heart.
The bodied cage, worn out, divided over many leagues and years,
Time is shorter than a happy smile, so do not waste it with your tears.
  
The mind is frail, yet time and exit frailer still,
Condemned to lonely wonder on that high precipice of early dawn and sky lark shrill.
Regrets prove plenty, akin to timeless grains of sand,
left strewn across the salty shore, which cause abrasive sores both in spirit and in humble man.

The mind again, yes that oldest tempest foe,
Who tries to cheat you of your common wits.
The blind man sees which way to go,
The liars tongue is made of gold, the wise man thinks but never sits.

You search, yet fumble all the same, time and anguished time again, through nameless worn out keys,
To invisible shackles, which are as boundless as the raging seas.
Those spellbound, never ending fetters, ***** and chains,
Like endless seasons dance upon, and tread beneath untrodden moss of natures rains.

You MUST! Leave at once, and elevate your tired being, BEYOND! The confines of our fragile mind,
Free yourself, unbind regrets, mistakes and worries, and leave old burdens far behind.
Or else risk damnation and eternal loss, the final mystery unravelled,
Abandon all you seek of yesterday, and set upon that road less travelled.

We are all but struggling insects, crawling on the face of God entire,
Until that fateful day, at final close of stormy play, we all succumb, relief and vigorous delights await.
To gentle lay and leave our mortal coil upon the wire,
Our aching soul, abandoned, to the wingless, shrouded, hands of wicked fate.
Mark Penfold Christmas Eve 2024

Had a strange dejavu moment last night and this just rattled out of me in seconds, strange
Kara Shirlene Dec 2024
You talk about the tides
And your love for the sea.
As I listen in silence,
My mind is wondering
                      Are you ready to dive into
The Ocean that secretly resides
In the depths of my heartstrings?

Because my love isn't shallow,
It's a wave that runs deep.
Yet, I delicately dance
                      Around the shores of you
Because I see that you
Could be the Ocean too.

And inside this current
                       Of hope flowing is a
Wonderful, beautiful, terrifying thing.

So I'm waiting and watching to see
Who will take the first plunge -
                        Will it be you or will it be me?

Or maybe this time
                         Your wave of love inside
            Won't be afraid
                         To crash into mine.
             Together, forming
                         One massive riptide.

©KSS 9/2018
Ksenija Ostojić Dec 2024
Dear Holy Tree,
I invoke the thee.
Don't ever dissapear,
The gods have forsaken me.
Done me so wrong, so wrong,
That the voices never stop.
I thought they were my shelter, my refuge,
But all they did was give me an urge.
All i need is a bullet and a gun,
It's an act that can't be undone.
New poem!!
Ronoh Tarus Dec 2024
A friend, she is, with heart so kind,
A soul so warm, with peace of mind.
We talk for hours, time slips away,
But in my heart, something starts to sway.

I wonder if she sees, if she knows,
How her presence in my thoughts only grows.
It’s strange, but I think, as time goes on,
There’s more I feel than I’ve let on.
Ksenija Ostojić Dec 2024
The kiss of the man,
The scar on her head,
She saw the darkness in her.
The wrist that she cuts,
The wall that she punched,
She didn't speak that much.
The love she gave was never enough,
All she ever was her body,
Not her soul, not her heart.
Poem i made in psych ward
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