PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Be At Peace


I long for the day,

When I can be,

At peace with myself,

Hopefully.

 

The feeling inside,

Magically,

My soul at rest,

Spiritually.

 

Only happened once or twice,

In my life you see,

Once in Thailand,

The other in Italy.

 

Always when I was sitting,

By the sea,

Waves crashing, lose myself,

Totally.

 

Feeling at one,

Naturally,

Totally at peace,

Beautifully.

 

Takes me away,

Wishfully,

To a place I long for every day,

Heavenly.

 

Other than that,

My life to be,

Crazy as hell,

Psychologically.

 

Today, yesterday,

Tormenting,

Huge fight to remain sane,

Exhausting. 

 

I don't know what I have to do,

To win this war,

To feel at peace,

Against you. 

 

It comes from within,

So it must be me,

Yet it's alien as hell,

How can this be?

 

Madness, Sadness,

Broken through and through,

My life hasn't gone to plan,

Oh lord what am I to do. 

 

The dark side,

Of my personality,

Has taken over, Carl Jung, 

How can this be?

 

Soul crying out,

Come rescue me,

I can't take this anymore,

Drowning.

 

So many lonely months,

And years,

Lots of heartache,

A damn of tears. 

 

Suppress it, Ignore it,

Fighting it too,

I'm so much worse off,

A new strategy for you. 

 

Perhaps allow,

This torment to express,

Head butting the wall,

Not the best.

 

Talking, Tablets, 

Ayahausca too,

Tried them all,

What am I to do?

 

One thing that has confounded me,

A life partner,

Someoneclose,

Holding me. 

 

The answer is obvious,

When I sit down and see,

Ignored what was glaring,

In front of me.

 

Love is the pill,

Magically,

Better than coke and pills,

Totally.

 

Hold on a minute,

Look in the mirror,

What do you see,

A ghost, is that really me? 

 

Treat yourself better,

Let yourself be free,

No need for the self torture,

This is crazy. 

 

Beholden to the past,

Shackles are buried deep,

Stuck in the mud,

This is why I can't sleep.

 

Joy is all around,

Waiting to be found,

Looking with the wrong lense,

I can still be sound. 

 

Blaming self,

For the self stories to be told,

1980's trauma,

Legacy of old.

 

Been carrying this,

Heavy luggage,

Dragging me down,

Totally.

 

No wonder when I sit,

By the ocean, by the sea

This depressive feeling floats away,

Drifts to the horizon, happily.

 

Done nothing wrong,

For past misery,

Just a child,

Innocently.

 

Take myself away,

Yesterday's misery,

Today is a new day,

Optimistically.

 

I sit and write,

Daily,

Express the hurt through words,

My therapy. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

WestLondonMan

Like a lot of us been through shitty parts in my life. In 2018 I was living in London, attending a part time acting school. It was a great time. Also I was presenting at an event, one of the tutors at the acting school took me under his wing and mentored me. Part of that process he taught me how to write poetry, or at least express myself through it. Now, I write a poem every day, I write for a hobby. I've had a varied career, the only thing I can say is writing is the best things I've ever done. I absolutely love it. Have got 14 publications on a short story website and launching my own website in December 2022, http://www.PeterGreenhall.com Feel free to add any comments. I hope you enjoy reading my poems as much as I enjoyed putting them together.

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.