Poem: Always Eager

Posted on by Astrid

A very hungry caterpillar,
Never enough, always too much
I consume…

Insatiable I feel,
Always eager
For more…

Will I ever be content?
Feeel that my needs are met?
Or will I never…

Wrap myself in a cocoon,
And wait
Patiently…

For myself
To emerge
A beautiful butterfly…

This poem was written for dVerse’s Poetics, for which the prompt is “cycles of life”. I often use the metaphor of the very hungry caterpillar as a way to describe my perpetual criticism of the care system. In reality though, I think that, when my needs are met, I could evolve like a caterpillar transforming into a beautiful butterfly. Or maybe I’d turn into a moth, who knows?

Limerick: Rage

Posted on by Astrid

When I scream out of rage
Some staff won’t engage
Others let me cry
Until my bad mood passes by
Then I can turn the page

This was seriously my first attempt at a limerick in I think it must be more than 25 years. I don’t honestly think it’s funny, but at least I gave the challenge a go. This one’s for Esther Chilton’s prompt, which is “rage”.

Poem: Self-Love

Posted on by Astrid

Self-love
isn’t just
a bubble bath,
a scented candle
or a comfy blanket.

Self-love
is more than
good food,
exercise
or relaxation.

Self-love
isn’t the same
as self-centeredness,
selfishness,
not loving others.

In fact,
self-love
is essential
to love another.

After all,
if everyone
loves themself,
no-one will be unloved!

This poem was written for dVerse’s Poetics, for which the prompt is to write a poem about self.

I Fear…

Posted on by Astrid

I fear not. Not really. Snakes nor spiders, heights nor depths. I fear not. Not exactly. Darkness nor monsters, flying nor driving. I fear… oh, what do I fear? Aloneness and uncertainty, pain and discomfort. And yet, I know, these are inevitable.

This post was written for Friday Writings #120, for which the prompt is to write either a prose poem, tankaprose or haibun. I chose the prose poem. I am also sharing this post with Friday Faithfuls, for which the prompt this week is “fear”.

Poem: Darkness

Posted on by Astrid

Darkness lingers all around
It’s like it envelops me…
Where will I be found?

Something strikes me by surprise
A sound, a smell, a shock…
Will this be the end, my utter demise?

I’m scared, I cry out for help, but no-one hears
If I stay here, am I doomed, like they thought…
Is this the realization of my fears?

Lost eyesight, I’m on your side
I think to myself, this is it, I give in…
Look on the bright side, suicide…

This poem was written for dVerse’s Poetics. The prompt is to pick a line (or more than one, as I did) from a song by Nirvana. I remember only the very popular songs by that band, and only vaguely, but I loved the opportunity to write an angsty poem.

Poem: Light and Dark

Posted on by Astrid

Light
Feels good
Like the sun
On my skin
On a warm day in May

Dark
Feels bad
Like a rainstorm
Soaking me
In the midst of November

Light
And dark
Seem to contrast
Like one is always negative
And the other always positive

But without last November
May will never come
And so it is
With light
And dark

Feel all the feels
And remember
You’re alive
And so it is…

This poem was written for this week’s dVerse Poetics. The prompt was to use a piece of instrumental music as inspiration for a poem. I have a lot of playlists of instrumental music in my Spotify library, but choosing a piece was harder than I thought. I eventually went with a piece for which both the title and the music spoke to me. This seems to be intended for meditation and relaxation practices.

Poem: Giving Up Is Forever

Posted on by Astrid

Pain is temporary, they say
Things will get better (eventually)
Give it some time…

Giving up is forever, they say
There’ll be no point of return
Be more resilient…

God has a plan, they say
He doesn’t give me more than I can handle
Surrender to His will…

But what if God’s will
Is to give up on me
Forever?

I wrote this poem for dVerse’s Poetics, for which the prompt today is to incorporate some form of the word “give” in your poem. As a spiritual wanderer, I find myself perpetually wrestling with the idea that life has meaning. I came across a comment on Reddit recently in which a chronic pain sufferer said more or less that the idea that one day they will be dead and no longer need to suffer, is comforting to them. The comment didn’t come from a position of “I’ll be in a better place then”, which made me think really. I am not in a space to ponder this topic further right now though.

In an Ideal World

Posted on by Astrid

In an ideal world…
I’d get all the care I needed,
From all staff I trusted.

I’d be able to engage
In activities I enjoy-
Crafting, baking, walking, swimming.
Without a care in the world.

I’d live closer to my spouse
If not together.

Sigh…
In an ideal world…

This post was written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt, which this week is “ideal”. I realize that my dreams for an ideal world are a bit childish and rather self-centered. The piece was based on the thing I at one point told staff at my old home: that, in an ideal world, I’d get one-on-one all day long. This isn’t actually true, since I need alone time to read and blog and phone my spouse, for instance. However, I do feel there are ways in which my care could be improved. Some of them might be realistic, while others fall into the category of “in an ideal world”.

Poem: Home Is…

Posted on by Astrid

Home was
At my parents’
Who were there and yet weren’t there for me
Hurting me in ways I feel I can’t express
It wasn’t safe
Or maybe that’s just me

Home was
On my own
Barely holding on by a thread
Surviving but that was about as far as it went
It wasn’t doable
Or maybe that’s just me

Home was
In the mental hospital
Where I stayed for nearly a decade
Only to be kicked out again
That wasn’t forever
And that wasn’t me

Home was
With my spouse
Again, barely holding on by a thread
Managing life by sleeping and panicking
It didn’t work out
But maybe that was me again

Home then was
In the care facility in Raalte
About as unsuitable as they come in theory
But it was near-perfect in reality
And yet, I left
And that was me (sort of)

Home then became
My current care home
With harsh staff, chaotic clients and poor quality of care
I wasn’t abused (not really), but that’s about as far as it goes
It doesn’t feel safe
But then I wonder, isn’t that just me?

Maybe soon home will be
The future care home
The big unknown
Will I feel sort of happy there?
No-one can tell
But it’s up to me

To make myself feel at home

This poem may sound a bit self-loathing. It isn’t intended this way, but I couldn’t express as concisely how I feel about my various “homes” and particularly the way people have told me I approach them (ie. the idea that I’m never satisfied anyway because I’m looking for perfection) without sounding this way. This is definitely not my best poem, but oh well, it shows my conflicting feelings about the fact that I’ve never felt “at home” anywhere.

I’m joining dVerse’s OLN. I’m also joining Friday Writings. The optional prompt is “muscle memory”. I guess repeating that I don’t feel at home anywhere counts.

Poem: The Onion to My Core

Posted on by Astrid

On the surface
I appear quiet,
Collected,
Maybe a bit timid

Underneath that layer
I look angry,
dissatisfied,
Always oppositional

Even lower
Sits the sadness,
Depression,
A deep-seated despair

Yet another layer down
I don’t even know…
Not sure
I want to go there

Do I even trust
That as I peel the layers
I will find myself?

And if I do,
Do I want to get to know her?

This poem was written for dVerse’s Poetics, for which the inspiration is the onion. I’m not sure whether we’re supposed to include the word “onion” in our poem. I didn’t, but I hope the metaphor is clear.