mental health

The Armchair

Cenotaph of my loathe-quarry
lurks in the corner
ominous obelisk of misery-grey fabric 
stained by stagnant-self
                    arms grubbier than a plagiarist in an inkwell.

It haunts my body
memory-foam cushions twisted
around my depression
                      like an alligator in death-roll.

                                  If perching, it’s only for seconds
dread at comfort swallowing me whole
or falling over the feet clumsily
                                 delivering self-recrimination
that plunges me into that dark brutal chasm
                                                                                   - again.

The armchair is a sound-hollow
negative echoes only
so I stay silent near its plinth
  	              ⁃ yet sometimes the pride in victory
my eyes hold
is loud enough to drown
                                              past despair.

Feeling

He sits with sadness in his eyes,
mercury-blue and moist,
no light shines on his face,
apart from the moon,
who cups his cheek,
from her perch in the sky,
she understands melancholy,
but he ignores her offer of help,
turning away from her slender illuminating fingers,
instead he pushes the pain down,
burying with the rest of his misery,
he shouldn’t show emotion or cry,
that’s not what men do,
how many times does he need to be told.

He takes a breath,
agitating the mercury with woollen sleeves,
he sweeps away the tears,
then paints a watercolour happiness over his face,
just in time, for his wife has returned to him,
and when she asks how he is,
in reply, with all his strength,
he let’s a tear fall and tells her how he feels.


Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. I am big supporter of men’s mental health and this deals with men being able to open up to their partners.

Take It Easy,

Paul

(image courtesy of Nik Shuliahin on unsplash)

Margins

I write in the margins
because I used to live there
an oddity, an anomaly, a correction
wasting valuable space on the page 
until the margins became
too tight to breathe in
too tight to survive in
so I leaked into the rest of the page
sharing my words with others
finding friendship and love.

I write in the margins
because the margins made me.

———

Thanks for taking time to read my poem. I hope you enjoyed. Why not take time to read some of my other pieces?

Take It Easy

Paul

From Your Brothers

There it is again
that distant gaze
powerful, it pierces faraway sandstorms
looking for the memory
of where that long lost piece of you
may be buried
and the Afghan sun can’t even burn your eyes
because you’ve stared so long, so often.

That subtle curl of lip
and your eyes wander softly
back in to the room
amongst the lads, lagers
and a few over-under dressed lasses.

There’s no sand here
and you know the rain
is always close-by
– like us –
we just hope we can help
to find you some hard-earned peace.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. It’s dedicated to my friends who’ve spent time fighting for the country on faraway shores.

Paul

Answering Doors

Opportunity rasped
repeatedly at my door
knuckles bloodied, bruised and broken
until they were incapable
of knocking again
I chose to open up
once silence fell
with head bowed
I took it’s palms in mine
and healed sores with words
‘Why didn’t you answer ?‘ Opportunity asked
and in my mind
the truth was told
– ‘there are far more deserving than I‘.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. I hope you enjoyed it. If opportunity knocks, always answer because it may take you to places you could only dream about.

Take It Easy

Paul

Looking Through The Window

On Wednesday morning
with my eyes closed
I looked through the window
and listened –  to –
the natural percussion
of pouring rain
drumming
against mottled flagstones
creating a cacophony of calm
in the storm of my mind
not quite serenity
but not far off.

I hoped you enjoyed reading this poem. Feel free to have a look at my other work or leave a comment if you wish.

Take It Easy

Paul

Things Will Get Better – A Poem for World Mental Health Day

the feat of self-propulsion
from one’s bed
whilst the sludge of self-repulsion
is coursing through one’s head
is an extremely powerful thing to do

through mumbled words and scratching sobs
the step taken to share your thoughts
with another
whether it be friends, family, stranger or lover
is a monument of courage

think of it, as like learning a new skill
a realisation that things
can and will get better
but may take time to figure out 
displays a resilience 
you may not have known about

these are things I say from experience
imprisoned in darkened rooms and a midnight-black bleak mind
in a state of self-exile
shutting out the world
through obtuse notions of lacking self-worth
but I overcame it and freed myself through seeking help and standing up.

Believe in You
as others do
even when you take the smallest of steps
you are strong, brave and powerful

This poem was written for World Mental Health Day 2020. If you feel you need help with your mental health, speak to someone then contact a GP, Mental Health service or a Counselling service in your area.

Take it easy and look after yourself and each other

Paul

(Image taken from mentalhealth.org.uk)