Fraud #MicroPoetry #MicroPoem

Her paper dress

of elegant words

turned to ash

and as the burning truth swelled

the flames melted her plastic smile

Escape #Micropoetry #Micropoem #Poetry

I try to close my eyes

Shut out the world

But it’s still there when I awake

There is no escape


This #micropoem is in response to #Poetheme 315 run by  Micropoetry.com

Theme: ESCAPE

The Voice – a poem about #OCD before I knew it was #OCD

My OCD reared it’s ugly head when I was a teenager, but I never knew what it was until I was twenty-six. I stumbled upon this poem I wrote…I’m not sure how old I was, 16 or 17 maybe? It is a very poorly written poem with forced rhyming but it captured how tortured I was. Knowing what I know now and reading this it is so clear to me what was going on, that it was OCD. But back then all I knew of OCD was hand washing, cleanliness, and order. I had no idea that OCD could be thoughts of family dying because I did something wrong, or fear of touch, or repetitive routines that took hours, or horrible thoughts of violence.

I am sharing this poem not because I think it’s great, trust me I don’t. But because if I knew what OCD really was back then I could have gotten help earlier. I share about OCD and what it’s really like so I might reach someone who is suffering and help them see why. And by knowing why they can finally seek the proper help they need.

The voice

I am the voice inside your head.
Do this.
No. Do this,
or you might end up dead.

If you don’t do this,
your sister might die.
But if you do that,
someone might cry.

Make sure you check the stove,
before you leave the house
Because if gas leaks, it’s your fault
you stupid louse!

Don’t let people touch you.
Don’t let them get close.
Even though you want it,
you shall think it is gross.

You will never have peace
cuz I’ll always be there,
telling you to do things
cuz I really don’t care.

when you’re in a small room
and nothing is wrong
you will want to get out
you can’t be there too long.

To many people,
all in one place.
You start to breathe fast.
You become a nut case.

Maybe you’re crazy.
That’s what I think.
Now you think it too.
You are crazy and you stink.

I am the voice inside your head.
I will not rest until you are dead!

After Bedtime Thoughts

No one told me it would be like this.

Waiting for silence…

for the space in between,

for the moments after.

No one told me that regret would be a feeling

I’d have to deal with,

feel guilty for,

be ashamed of.

No one told me I wasn’t cut out for this.

Maybe because that isn’t something you say,

or maybe they just didn’t know.

Like me, completely naive.

No one told me because it’s not something that’s talked about,

or maybe it’s just few and far between.

I’m the odd one out.

I can’t even bring myself to say it out loud.

No one told me it would be like this…

 

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This little poem is in response to “Waiting for a poem…” Over at D’verse Poets Pub

“Tonight, I want you to write a poem of anticipation.”

A glimpse of light

 

 

cobble me a picture

with moments of this broken reality

create a masterpiece

with the remnants of my sanity

let us put these rare lucid moments in a frame

display them like a memory

showing how things could be

if I move forward, readily

 

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If I could frame what my mind could be, the freedom I could have. If I could see on a daily basis what I’m working toward, I can keep moving, keep pushing, to be free.

#OCDvocate

Cobble poem for dVerse.

 

A Mother’s Guilt – An Erased #Haibun

 

rage-ppd

PeopleImages / Getty

 

I close my eyes. The guilt presses against my skull. Blood pounds the base drum in my ears. I try to breathe, but a noise pulls the trigger and rage convulses out of the monster‘s mouth. Their confusion shines through giant brown mirrors that reflect the ugly creature before them.

 

tears spill

moments slip away

defeated

 

hands

press against

my eyes

(breathe)

until the monster

is no longer a giant

and the mirrors reflect

how I want to be

 

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Erased haibun is a form I learned for #NaPoWriMo.

Submitted for this week’s open link night over at dVerse.

 

 

 

Autumn – Troiku

bare branches

a jungle gym for birds

wings all aflutter

 

bare branches                                                                   a painting against the blue sky
a painting against the blue sky                                          color drips to the ground
leaves under my feet                                                         gathering in piles

© Yozakura, the Wandering Spirit

leaves under my feet

a satisfying crunch

autumn symphony

 

© Caitiln Gramley

 

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This attempt at a troiku is in response to Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #31 Troiku … “bare branches”

A troiku starts with a base haiku, then you create three new haiku where each line of the base haiku is the first line in each of the new haiku.

I quite enjoyed learning this new form. 🙂

To learn more about troiku click HERE.

Fractured Mind

 

Forehead lined with worry

ninety scenarios

from a single thought

stick to her like

insects on fly paper

 

If only she could

unhinge from this frame of mind

 

Hours – turn to days – turn to weeks

simple truths slip though desperate fingers

Reality now muddled

 

© Caitlin Gramley

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A quadrille for dVerse.