A man is ill. Whispered recollections of what he once was are all that sustain him. He has no hope. His aching visions of what should have been kill comfort. What could have been is a lie. He has no hope. He has no future. He has only now. Life took revenge for a life… Continue Reading ‘A Double Etheree on Living with M.E.’, by Linda Cosgriff
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Pain stitched into each joint, he withers and fades. A mutilated life. by Linda Cosgriff Author website United Kingdom
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The way the scent of the air changes as the day goes on: the warming sweetness of morning; the sharp resin of fir trees as the sun heats the day; the cool, soft evening air with the ground and lake and all the waving leaves mixed in. The way the early evening light strikes the… Continue Reading ‘In Stillness’, by D. Phoenix
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Maybe me still being here is as random as someone else dying. Maybe my decisions and actions only worked for me and cannot be replicated by anyone else. I honestly don’t know. My mind is dwarfed by life’s mysterious ways. … All I know for certain is that as much as I would like to… Continue Reading ‘LIVE YOUR STORY’, by Katarina Juvancic
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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. My body is a place of pain. My body is also a place of unutterable solitude, longing, and… Continue Reading ‘Singing Bones’, by Katarina Juvancic
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There is too much light in the air today. My eyelids won’t retreat; they’re the heavy squad, repelling all invaders. My protection from a day too heavy for me, for my chest, my arms. my legs. I can only lie down beneath its weight. Breathing takes will. Push, push the invisible hand up, feel it… Continue Reading ‘Collateral Damage’, by Ellie Conway
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(After Tennyson’s ‘The Dying Swan’) In this wasting plain a Wedge of swans Tangle in water So deep her eyes In the gyring ferment I am impotent Warming blankets only burn The stab I cannot touch her I cannot reach her To this berth I cannot go She writhes White feathers Drop around her bed… Continue Reading ‘Swans and Swallows’, by Mary Marie Dixon
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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… Continue Reading ‘On Scarborough beach, I played football’, by Paul Allender
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Eight months of pain, guilt. Losing my movement slowly, Affecting my work.Pain in my hip, back, Encroaching on everything. Physio: please help.Boss can’t understand, Pretended it wasn’t bad. I used to be fit. Practicing patience, Trying to be kind to self. But some days that’s hard. by Vanessa [This image shows my legs in… Continue Reading ‘Hurting Haikus’, by Vanessa
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Lie in the car, stiff as a bell’s tongue, and just as mute. Pain in aspiration stage – still hoping I’ll hurl myself against walls, eager to chime. After a blurry episode give looking another go. Burgess Park is not itself right now: tiny, lifeless, the green of grass and foliage moulded in the same… Continue Reading ‘Chime’, by Marion Michell
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