generate
stay
slow
seal
here
- by Sean Medium
Belgium
Tag: Isolation (Page 4 of 5)
For some of us the universe is a dark pit, where pain finds its home, nesting and laying eggs of destruction. The whole life reduced to this crumbled, shrank, shelled body of pain. It takes over your whole existence. Nothing can keep the pain at bay at this point, not even your best “mind-over-matter” efforts or hardest of drugs. It is torturing your soul and crippling your body. Overwhelming and ubiquitous. An epitome of Alone. A hungry demon.
It claims you when you are too exhausted to fight. Now it has me in its claws, roaring like a wild beast, feasting on my bones, chewing my sanity and spitting out my dignity. I am too weak to resist. My presence is ethereal and fragile. I am not really here any more. I do not live anymore. I merely exist. And that is more humiliating and dehumanising than being dead.
- by Katarina Juvancic Author’s website: www.katarina-dejan.com/en
Slovenia
| Deeply submerged in the melancholy of the dying summer with my knees telling tales of the approaching cold and winter. My bones, surrounded with tumor necrosis cytokines causing acute and debilitating inflammation are dreading it.
|
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My body is a place of pain. My body is also a place of unutterable solitude, longing, and love. Love holding my cells in place. Love feeding them and helping them communicate better. I must find that place every time the system that keeps them in check collapses. I must remember it is here, all the time, ubiquitous and ever present. I need to embrace my disease and live with it as best as I possibly can. But most of all, I need to find a sustainable source of warmth and store it into my bones, so that they can sing songs of sun, warm breeze and golden evenings like this one all year round.
- by Katarina JuvancicWebsite
Slovenia
An afternoon spent, or was it an evening, or three, in a wheel clamp’s tender clasp. My dues for modernist mutation paid out in full: ribs, calves, hands, sections of skull, wrenching, arching, hardening. A homecoming of sorts, a holding; mattress won’t grumble, neither will I – if only we knew if we’re hot or cold, horsehair or hardware, flesh or fish or foil.
- by Marion Michell
My blog
My book Supinely Sublimely
U.K.
Wedged between sky and river
The birch, plaiting scarred spines, joins
Ochre leaves to Cirrus clouds.
In the wedge of bed and window
Your wounded limbs endure
A throbbing rhythm to misting dew
Autumn wraps a sultry cage
Of alizarin crimson.
She entwines the rising bone
To breach the slough of heaven
Branches thunder and crack
Under heavy snow
And escape still enclosed in
Huey blues Your mind warps
And wraps itself with morphine
- by Mary Marie DixonFacebook Artists pageUSA.
On Scarborough beach, I played football.
This image is one of my new paintings. It is autobiographical and consists of two halves. One half reflects my early life growing up in Neepsend, an industrial area of Sheffield. The other half depicts me, as a child, on the beach with my football.
- by Paul Allender, @pauliepaul55 at instagram
U.K.
- by M. F. DeMaurisha
U. K.
In Lithuanian, runoti means both “to cut (with a knife)” and “to speak”.
Hail: Hagalaz
Pain, loss, suffering, hardship, sickness, crisis.
Spirit-breaker
Faith-Taker
Misery-Maker
Joy-Stealer
Dream-Breaker
Shadow-Hound.
Thought-Waker
Friend-Fooler
Life-Dealer
Mood-Carver
Time-Stealer
Life-Hider.
Sometimes, some time,
Signal-Saver.
- by Ruth V Chalkley
- Additional poems hosted on other websites: Tanzkarte NHS; Carrier Pigeon for Science
U.K.
And for a long time
She wanted to tell it to someone
place it in the visible world—
yet nothing she could speak of
nor anything she had been told.
In our residences,
the old-fashioned exile
of unwelcome subjects
to guard against
the wrong arrangement of text.
How to narrate an illness
in fairer climates and
to fair-weather figures.
*
How not to.
- by Amy Allara Amy Allara’s website
U.S.
i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom i want my mom
- by socks
