Writing As A Form Of Therapy

[Silenus]

My latest poem, seeing the light of day, composed with cold clumsy fingers... it is dedicated to my love, whom each week I must leave owing to work commitments in this country of ours that is too big by far...

~~~~~~~ ♤♧♢♡ ~~~~~~~

The Light of a New Dawn

The westering sun kissed the hill in the morning,
Kissed it goodbye at a new day's dawning,
"I'm off on my journey traversing the sky,"
A morning breeze uttered briefly a sigh.

"I'll see you tomorrow with another kiss,
Even though I must go, it's you I will miss,"
The hill remained standing, rooted to the ground,
Stoically silent, not uttering a sound.

In twenty-four hours the ritual is repeated,
As dark hill by light is lovingly greeted;
Me, the wondering witness, feels the growing heat,
I'll be here tomorrow when sun and hill next meet.

[Silenus]

Another poem... dunno if it works or not... just experimenting with repeating patterns...

The Limit of Fear

Do you fear change,
Not doing things, or doing things you normally wouldn't,
Fear stopping you from being you?

Do you limit your range,
Not reaching beyond all the things you think you couldn't,
Limit stopping you doing what you do?

Do not fear,
Do not limit,
Change the range,
Challenge the wouldn't and couldn't,
Do what you need to be you.

[Silenus]

Hi all,

I wrote this short 500-word story as my homework piece in April for the writers group that I have joined. The only instruction for the piece was that it had to be written about 'A Different Place'.

I really enjoyed writing it, and am quite happy with it. I hope that you fine peeps enjoy it too. Hugs and happy vibes beaming your way. 🙂

A Different Place

Blinking is okay, but every time I properly close my eyes and open them again, I find myself in a different place. Like for real. Actually transported, teleported elsewhere, usually far far away from where I was before.

It's a terrible curse. I kissed my wife... I closed my eyes to enjoy the kiss... I never saw her again.

Half the time, when I open my eyes, I find myself dumped in the ocean. Adrift and lost at sea, I have no alternative but to close my eyes and open them again, to gaze upon what new destination greets my soggy self.

My life has been stolen from me. My family and friends are lost to me. I have no hope of ever doing normal things like holding down a job. All that I have are the clothes on my back.

I forage for food and drink when I can. Often, I am forced to beg or steal in order to survive.

They say that travel broadens the mind. If that is true, then I have the broadest brain that ever was. I have been to every country on Earth, without even a single passport stamp. At least I never have to queue at airports.

At first I wondered how this was happening. Then I wondered why it was happening to me. As my new nomadic lifestyle stretched from months into years, I even wondered if plucking out my eyes would see an end to this constant travelling from place to place, but I could never bring myself to do it.

I don't wonder any more, for there are no answers to my questions. There is just a different place every time I open my eyes.

I surprised a bank robber once. Popped up out of nowhere and caught him in the act, right there in the vault. It gave him the fright of his life. I closed my eyes when he drew his gun on me, and opened them again to see myself surrounded by huddling Emperor penguins. The blasting Antarctic winds ruffled my hair. I stayed for as long as I could tolerate the cold. There was an incredible peace and rugged beauty there, so unlike anything else that I had seen.

And then, one day, my mad eye-driven journeying stopped, as mysteriously as it had started; without rhyme or reason. I opened my eyes to find myself home again.

My beloved home, so often in my dreams as I wandered the world these many years. I couldn't believe my eyes. I never wanted to shut them again. But I had to know.

Fearfully, I closed my eyes; hopefully, I opened them again. Joy of joys, there I was, still in my bedroom.

And yet something wasn't right. The room was empty. The furniture was gone. There was no sign of my wife.

I had travelled the world, dreaming of returning home, and when finally I found my way there, it turned out to be a different place.

[outlander]

wow @Silenus very powerful and such an amazing piece

great work!

[BlueBay]

Fighting in my head - do I, don't I

yes I will, no I won't

I need to stop this fighting in my head

Borderline Personality

how can it be such a borderline personality

well i hate it completely

i hate it all, i hate this life of confusion, anger, emotions

i am fighting in my head confusion confusion and confusion

[Silenus]

Thanks so very much @outlander! It means a lot to me that you liked it.

As a writer, I have always written for myself. If I am happy with something I've written, then I feel that it is mission accomplished. Truth be told, though, if someone else likes something I've written, well, that's just the icing on the cake.

I have spent so much of my life writing, and mostly it has been ignored. I am still very hesitant in the writers group. My hands shake when I read out my homework piece each month... hahaha...

I guess I am entering a new phase in my writing career. I have self published two novels so far - a book of poetry and a book of philosophical musings. Both were published in 2015. I sold a grand total of 3 copies of each book, to family...

Hahaha... rather an underwhelming start to my writing career... but in all honesty, those two books WERE written just for me... they were words that I needed to get out of my head and onto the page, otherwise I would have been driven totally insane...

Now... well... now I have reached a place where I am a bit more stable. Don't get me wrong - bipolar still punches me in the beans, and I still have to work very hard to maintain my composure and manage my condition, especially as I am doing it medication-free...

I've learnt a lot in the past 6 years. In 12 days it will be the 6th anniversary of my very worst breakdown ever - the one that led to my initial depression diagnosis and then the bipolar diagnosis...

Now, I don't write because it is a compulsion (well, sometimes I do... hahaha...). I write because it is a pleasure. And I write in the hope that I can bring pleasure to other people too...

Hugs and happy vibes beaming to you. 🙂

[outlander]

oh yes @Silenus it is fantastic

good for you about the books! id love to write a book too. i ahve written short stories and many poems but no where near as good as yours!

[Silenus]

Sending the calming sound of ocean waves lapping distant shores, @BlueBay.

I often think the ocean has mental health issues... it can be so angry, so serene, so changeable, so eternal... blown away by its power or floating peacefully in its gentle embrace, and everything in between... that is what it is to be "gifted" with these mental health issues that we have...

Hugs, hugs... always hugs... and gentle calming vibes beaming your way... 🙂

[outlander]

sending you big big hugs @BlueBay

that is yet another powerful poem

[Silenus]

You so should write a book @outlander!

We are so very lucky to live in a world where we can now self publish books.

I taught myself how to use a desktop publishing program, and laid it all out myself. Then I got a very good friend of mine to draw a pen drawing for the cover. I then photoshopped it to within an inch of its life. It took me months of course, because I was learning all the way...

Then I found an online print-on-demand publisher. There's a whole bunch of them, I believe. You upload a PDF file of your book and a PDF file of your cover, and as long as it's all set up right for their printers, you can order as many or as few copies as you like. Even for small print runs like 5 or 10 books, it only cost me about 6 or 7 dollars per book. And honestly, that feeling of holding a real-life book in your hand with your name on the cover... yeah... it's pretty cool...

Don't sell yourself short @outlander. I believe that each and every one of us has an amazing talent at writing. Every time you write words on a page, they are a part of you, and nobody else in the whole wide world would be able to write quite what you write... that is truly a special thing... we each have a story to tell...

If only more people would take the time to listen to or to read other people's stories... we each have so much to offer each other... we each have our individual life journeys, our own paths, but together we all walk...

Hugs and happy vibes beaming to you... 🙂