Their world was in flames,
An atmosphere- chaotic;
She marched to her own beats,
The sole voice of reason;
Dousing the flames,
At the cost of her own skin;
Engulfed by the embers,
So the children could be free.
Not all heroes wear capes,
With a wide fan base;
Some are disguised,
under apparent labels-
The above poem was inspired by “Neerja Bhanot”, a name familar to most indians. She was a pursuer for Pan Am flight, and lost her life while helping passengers escape the plane after it was hijacked.
For this week’s Writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, I’m going to take a personal detour. We all have those people in our lives who are much more than friends and are practically family. People who waltz into our lives unexpectedly and inadvertently take up a huge space in it; well, my friend/housemate/sister recently published her first poetry collection called Soul Unraveled.
This book is a journey through Love, heartbreak, abuse, and rising above it all. It touches on aspects of life in short free verses divided into six different chapters. The poems in this collection are raw and unfiltered especially when tackling issues such as sexual assault.
Now that I’ve talked the talk, Its time to walk that talk. Below are a few poems from “Soul Unraveled“. If you like what you read, you can pick up the book which is available in e-form and hardcopy on amazon. The link is at the bottom of the post.
You can also catch up with the writer on Instagram @ Soul Unraveled
Available on Amazon: SoulUnraveled: Rising from the ashes
If there are any book reviewers who would be willing to review this book, please send me an email at email@example.com
Frustration building up,
Emotions running wild,
Rejections piling up,
Dreams are waning by;
Hope is crashing down,
Life just passing by,
Pen and paper in hand,
He keeps writing on;
Such is the passion of a writer,
He still keeps writing on.
Originally written 14 October 2014
Facebook page: Words of a random
I was first diagnosed with Early Onset Bipolar Disorder when I was five years old. At that time, my mother did not accept the diagnosis and moved forward with no help. At the age of 23, after I had my first child, I was diagnosed again. I did not accept my diagnosis at that time. At the age of 31, I was once again diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, ADHD and PTSD. I accepted my diagnosis’ and went for treatment.
Through my life, there have been great losses and broken relationships due to the stigma of mental illness. It amazes me when I come to realize how destructive ignorance can be. I wish the people in my life had been educated at least enough to know that mental illness, like any physical illness, is not a choice. It is not a moral issue. It has absolutely nothing to do with values and integrity. Mental illness does not mean less than.
There is so much brilliance hidden in people who are disregarded because of a diagnosis. So much courage, fortitude, loyalty and love. The creativity is endless. Just like anyone else, we are leaders, followers, teachers, friends, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters. We are parents who love our children and children who love our parents. We are human beings.
What I would really like to see, is a way for people to appreciate the value of a person with a mental illness. Just like everyone else, we each have gifts to give the world. Great gifts and it seems such a waste to throw away such assets, based on ignorant assumptions. Over the past fifteen years, I have struggled to accept, understand and become compliant with my diagnosis. Bi-Polar to me is not a bad thing anymore. I know what it means in my life and those around me and I know what I have to do to manage it. Read more
I was scrolling through images on google to get a quote to share for this weeks’s Writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, when I came across the above words by Victor Hugo. I literally said out loud- This is beautiful.
I had intended to share a quote by Robert Browning as his poem is my pick of the week, but I couldn’t pass up the Victor Hugo quote; so much truth in it.
The poem I’m sharing below in turn contains so much wisdom in its few lines. It reminds me of an elderly person giving advice to a young one. It is so true when they say- we learn from adversity. I hope you enjoy the poem below.
By Robert Browning Hamilton
I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,
When sorrow walked with me.
From experience, I am a believer that sadness and tears and sorrow help us to grow and evolve into better human beings. Do you agree?
Living with him was like swimming in a shark infested ocean and coming out alive. The constant fear of wondering if I would ever make it to the shore; getting there and experiencing relief which lasts only for a few seconds, because I know. No doubt about it, the next day would bring with it, another date with the ocean. The fear, the apprehension and the cycle continues… That was life with him.
Don’t you dare tell me I should have tried harder. There are not many people who would survive a day and I did; I gave it seven years of my life which I can never get back. Was it patience or helplessness? Love or foolishness?
Facebook page: Words of a random
Have you ever felt like you were at the end of your rope? You just couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t want to talk to anyone, be around anyone, and even form your brain to think about anyone. All you could think about was the extreme feelings of sadness you felt about yourself and your life. You experienced something that brought you down soooo low, you never thought you would be able to come out of it. Two years ago that was me. With the death of my mother and the ending of my long term relationship; those thoughts ran through my mind every day and night.
Heart racing. Shortness of breath. Tears beginning to well up in my eyes. Body feeling numb…every 3 to 4 hours the cycle happens all over again. I lay there trying to control myself, counting back and forth from 1-50… “1..2..3..4..5…….50…49..48..47..46”, praying that I will soon fall back asleep. Crying my eyes out sometimes because I can’t. When I finally wake up in the morning, the feelings I have are no better. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to get up. This little voice in my head keeps telling me, “It’s not worth it. You’re just. Not. Worth. It.”
The moment when I realized that I believed that “little voice in my head”, is when I knew something was wrong with me. It wasn’t until one horrible day that I was forced to do something about it. The devil saw fit to ease his way in my thoughts and it went downhill from there. As I walked down Alcoa Road one Friday evening, I began to have thoughts that I’ve never had before. I was tired. Tired of crying, tired of hurting, tired of feeling alone. I started really thinking about the most painless way to end this all. Again, I. Was. Tired. My life was no longer important to me and I began to speak so much negativity over myself while devising a plan in my head. In the middle of all of that, I recieved a phone call from one of my sorority sisters. After ignoring the phone call 3 times I finally answered.
“Hey Bridge. What’s going on? Are you ok? I was just calling to check on you.”
“Yes, I’m fine”
“Bridge, you don’t sound fine. Are you ok?”
*hangs up phone*
I turned my phone off and cried my heart out for 15 minutes. Thoughts still pounding at my soul. Called her back and told her, “No. No, I’m not ok.” I ended up telling her everything that happened. All of the thoughts that were running through my head and how I felt inside. She told me to go to the doctor, but I refused. I worked at a psychiatric hospital and no one was about to call me crazy. I wasn’t having it. But after all of her begging and pleading I made an appointment and went to see the therapist and psychiatrist the next day. Read more
Something unexpected happened today. I awoke to the news that we had a 25 hour day, yesterday and the time has shifted from +3gmt to +2 gmt. I was messed up in the head this morning when I found out.
In my 21 years, this is the first time its happened. I had to sit down for about 30 minutes to get my bearing straight. It was confusing trying to decipher if the 11 am lecture I was having today meant 11 am old time or new time.
But then again, thats one of the great things about living in a different country; you get to experience new things. I sure wouldn’t be experiencing any time changes if I was back home.
That being said (I just had to air it out), welcome to another Writer’s Quote/Poem Wednesday. I do hope the poem i’ll be sharing today doesn’t put a damper in your mood. I found it beautiful and melancholic.
Middle Age by Pat Schneider
The child you think you don’t want
is the one who will make you laugh.
She will break your heart
when she loses the sight in one eye
and tells the doctor she wants to be
an apple tree when she grows up.
It will be this child who forgives you again and again
for believing you don’t want her to be born,
for resisting the rising tide of your body,
for wishing for the red flow of her dismissal.
She will even forgive you for all the breakfasts
you failed to make exceptional.
Someday this child will sit beside you.
When you are old and too tired of war
to want to watch the evening news,
she will tell you stories
like the one about her teenaged brother,
your son, and his friends
taking her out in a canoe when she was
five years old. How they left her alone
on an island in the river
while they jumped off the railroad bridge.