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Poet's Corner
Share Your Voice Through Poetry!
Share Your Voice Through Poetry!
Journaling and poetry can be powerful tools for processing trauma and expressing emotions. We invite poets of all backgrounds and experience levels to submit their work related to mental health for consideration. Whether you're a seasoned writer or just beginning your poetic journey, we want to hear your unique perspective and creative expression.
Why Submit?
· Join a vibrant community of poets and readers who celebrate the power of words.
· Share your voice and contribute to a collective exploration of mental health through poetry.
· Connect with others who understand the healing potential of creative expression.
How to Submit:
1. Prepare your submission in PDF or Word format.
2. Email your work using the Contact Us form on our website.
3. Include a brief bio (optional) and any relevant details about your piece.
We look forward to reading your submissions and celebrating the transformative power of poetry together!
Rudyard Kipling
IF
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!
The Silent Storm
Beneath the weight of skies so gray,
A man walks on, his heart astray.
The world sees strength, a steady face,
But storms within leave little trace.
The silence grows, a deafening sound,
Invisible chains keep him bound.
He seeks release in a smoky haze,
Where fleeting comforts blur his days—
A drink, a smoke, a constant friend,
To numb the pain that knows no end.
Death whispers, "All shall be still,
No loneliness here, no ache to fill."
A shadow follows, no end in sight,
No meaning found, no guiding light.
Depression’s grip, a heavy cloak,
Drowning dreams, extinguishing hope.
He hides away, avoids the light,
Afraid to stumble, to lose the fight.
Avoidance builds a fragile wall,
A shield to mask the pain of it all.
Yet every step, the burden grows,
A silent scream nobody knows.
But even David faced his Goliath,
A winding path through pain and strife.
With hurdles, setbacks, and saving grace,
He found the strength to face his place.
All it takes is a call, a mate,
A hand reached out to share the weight.
So hear this now, let it be heard:
Your voice, your pain, deserves each word.
Reach through the dark, and call a friend—
The storm will break, the night will end.
No shame in tears, no fault in fall,
Strength is found in breaking the wall.
Speak your truth, let light pour in,
Together we rise, let healing begin.
For every man who walks alone,
Know you are never on your own.
The storm may rage, but you’ll endure—
In love and hope, there lies the cure.
When sleep is lost and thoughts collide,
When memories twist and truths divide,
Pick up the phone, step out the door—
A brave brother's hand could mean much more.
Ask and be asked, "Are you okay, mate?"
For in connection, we find our fate.
The Therapist
An Ageing Sailor
Do not despise my form now frail and old,
For age is grace, though flesh may wither thin.
A thirst for life, once wild and uncontrolled,
Still burns beneath this weathered, weary skin.
Days of abundance, memories richly sown,
Where laughter danced, and love’s foundation grew.
A family blossomed, joyfully known,
Though time would bend my frame and dull my view.
Perhaps faint whispers now elude my ear,
Or blurred horizons hide the sights I crave.
A faithful dog may keep the silence near,
While echoes of the sea my thoughts enslave.
Mock if you must; your youth will also wane—
Life’s fleeting tide returns us all to ages pain.
Old Sea Dog
Sailing the Pacific
As the Galapagos Islands sank into shadowed waves,
The earth’s breath softened, dusk embracing the tide.
Stars awoke—Venus, the sentinel, brightly guiding,
Westward into a glittering void of night.
Alone, the seafarer's courage unfolds in whispers:
The main tightly bound, furler rolled, mizen steady.
The vessel glides with the trades, soft and eternal,
While the roaring forties rumble distantly astern.
To sleep, but not to dream; to rest, yet remain vigilant.
A bump, a shift—sails ruffle, the motion whispers.
Awake! What creatures stir from Poseidon's domain?
What tribute does the deep demand under its watchful gaze?
Orion rises, a steadfast companion in the dark.
What chases us—a threat or legacy untold?
Venus flees beneath the waves, leaving Centauri to guide,
As mysteries bloom within the depths of night.
But dawn edges closer, as Scorpio’s sting warns of trials ahead.
Rays of light transform the night to day.
Shearwaters glide as sunlight whispers across the sky,
Greeting the day to quiz the passing shape in their domain.
Flying fish flee, dolphins spring, and orcas smile.
Gannets dive, their practiced grace defying frailty,
As seagulls circle the stranger in their midst,
While a steady wake cuts through the stillness.
Soon, land emerges, and solitude shatters.
The order of man reclaims the helm.
Rules bind where freedom thrived, and Venus no longer guides.
The journey ends; the soul laments.
Old Sea Dog