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uryjm
04-12-03, 23:52
Sometimes, when my mind is accelerating down the anxiety slope, I find that mentally reciting poetry can provide an alternative, soothing focus. Here's one of my favourites by Philip Larkin....

Days

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

-- Philip Larkin


Jim

twister
04-12-03, 23:54
Can we write our own anxiety poems!:D

Emily

sadie
06-12-03, 00:37
this poem always sticks in my mind for some reason and always puts a smile on my face...

I must go down to the sea again
The lonely sea and sky
I left my vest and pants there
I wonder if there dry

By Spike Milligan


sadie

benoo5
06-12-03, 00:50
yesterday is history,
tomorrow is a mystery,
today is a gift,
thats why its called,
the present.

...bryan.

Waffle
14-12-03, 16:31
"When I am sad and weary,
When I think all hope has gone,
When I walk along High Holborn
I think of you with nothing on"

Adrian Mitchell 1932 -

Perhaps this could be a good anxiety reduction technique [}:)] haha :D

florence
14-12-03, 18:00
benoo5/bryan....great poem and very true.

Waffle....lol

Prettyface110
16-12-03, 00:46
Here's one I wrote the other night when I couldn't sleep.


One thirty-4 AM

My mind and my body lead each other astray,
Up the garden path
They wind each other up.
As one tires, the other awakes
Refreshed and alert.
They prod and poke each other like children
Trying to keep one another awake.
If the physical relents and succumbs to relaxation,
The consciousness whispers and chatters,
Mercilessly tormenting with tales of missed opportunities.
As slumber seduces my spirit,
A prick of pain whip cracks its way to attention.
These slapstick antics gain metronomic momentum 'till they're
Expertly dancing the foxtrot in my chest
And I'm grinding my teeth to its rhythm.




prettyface110

nomorepanic
17-12-03, 20:22
Hi Pretty

A poet in the making eh?

Nice one

Nicola

uryjm
17-12-03, 22:36
Pretty
Good poem! I hope it took your mind off those horrible night panics.

Jim

just-jax
10-05-11, 06:32
Hi guys, here are a couple of my poems - please feel free to comment and to check out my web page if you want to read more :)

It's Dark

by ~just-jax (http://just-jax.deviantart.com/)

Distorted. Twisting sheets of sound.
Past mistakes and doubts arisen.
Barriers of fear and pain
Create the formless, timeless prison.

No physical escape exists,
No safety catch or quick-release.
Through dark and winding consciousness -
A search for fabled inner peace.

Across the vastest, deepest space
The echoes of such things that pass.
Despair, like rain, falls on lost shores
Of tideless tears as still as glass.

No lock or key creates this hold.
No mans hands have placed the chains,
Yet neon lights won't chase the shade,
It's dark. It's dark and it remains.

Writing On A Painters Canvas

by ~just-jax (http://just-jax.deviantart.com/)

I want to paint a picture
Of the things inside my soul.
Of the thoughts and of the feelings,
Little parts that make me whole.
To show you all the colours
And the sounds to make it real,
To put my life on canvas
So you might see how I feel.
Diagrams and patterns of
The tempest that's my brain;
To visually lay out for you
The laughter; love and pain.
To hang up in a gallery
For you, the world, as art -
The passions; fears and turbulence
That rage inside my heart.
The frustrations and the sadness,
the excitement and the joy.
The castles I built in the clouds
And watched myself destroy.
A drawing of the world within -
The dark parts and the light,
The chaos and the calmness
That runs through my head at night.
To tip the balance slightly
So you'd see, instead of read,
The things I hate; the man I love;
the gain; the loss; the need.
I'd like to illustrate my points,
To show you what's inside.
To colour in or pencil out
The faith; the shame; the pride.
I want to paint a picture
Of the things inside my head,
It's just.. I'm not an artist..
So I wrote these words instead.

Paradoxically Her

by ~just-jax (http://just-jax.deviantart.com/)

There is no first line.
There is no rhyme.
There is "No".

Passing through me like smoke.
Surrounding me like white noise.


Beautiful yet painful as the sound of breaking glass,
Still these things that come to pass,
They go.


There is no structure.
There is no lesson.
There is "No".


Are these footprints that I walk in yours?
Is the path I have beaten thus far my own?
It is known.


There is no last line.
There is no message.
There is "No".

~ Thanks for reading.

mezzaninedoor
04-10-18, 20:18
A poem for National Poetry Day:-
called Blank Page

http://tonyamis.blogspot.com/2018/10/blank-page.html

BikerMatt
04-10-18, 21:57
Roses are red
Violets are blue
When i listen to Metallica
My neighbours do to