Social Anxiety

 

How can I describe

how my stomach knots,

how I feel nauseous,

how tears want to

leak from my eyes,

how the horrible lump

in my throat

threatens to gag me

 

How can I describe

how I just want to

hide in my bed

with the covers

pulled over my head,

how I want to close doors,

cover windows,

stay inside,

and not go anywhere

 

How can I describe

that being around

groups of people

makes me feel

out of place,

makes me want

to cower,

crawl in a corner,

stay out of sight,

and avoid talking

 

Was this how

my mum felt

near the end

when she no longer

wanted to go anywhere?

 

She never talked

about it

never had the words

Am I now

finding the words

for us both?

I Can’t Get Away from Words

I can’t get away from words

they chase me down

fill my mind

tear at my heartstrings

 

Thoughts fill me

stir me

roil in my gut

until I’m ready to explode

 

Too often

I push them aside

because of life issues

to deal with

 

Too often

the many feelings

accompanying the words

have me scrambling

 

to make

feeble stabs at

deciphering and recording

the waterfall rush

 

only to have them

evaporate

before I can

make order of them

 

and before I can

find cohesiveness

in the chaotic tumbling

of emotional ramblings

There’s so much

going through my head

I can’t get it

all down

 

I’m torn,

pulled in multiple directions

going from here to there

to another there, and still another

 

There are times

when the words

are filed away

until another similar outburst

 

But sometimes the words

evolve into a beautiful poem,

and other times there’s enough

for a full writing.

Night Shadow's Dance

 

Sultry moon hidden

dark of night

humidity hangs wet

in the 3 a.m. air

like last night’s underwear

hung on the line to dry

 

Silence is a presence

felt on the tip

of each finger

air has the heaviness

of baited breath

 

She moves swiftly, quietly

through the night stillness

to sit on back deck

sharing a cup of coffee

with the steamy night

 

She waits …

She dreams …

 

Breath held

she watches shadows

move silently

across the yard

quivering in ecstasy

erotic passion

eerily displayed

 

As clouds part to allow

one sliver of moonlight

to brighten the stage

she drops her gown

moves into

the dance of shadows

and disappears

into the coming

Dawn.

Life Work

 

I am continuing listing old poems, making a table of contents. Here's another I particularly like:

Life Work

Work

by Webster’s definition:

“physical or mental effort

directed towards a goal;

A job … employment … occupation …

act or deed ….”

In Webster’s,

describing work

takes up half a page

 

Society deems work

as something

you get paid to do

a service performed or

chores around the house

 

I want to know

about the other kind of “work.”

The work you don’t get paid for

and is often not recognized

or acknowledged by others.

The work that doesn’t

necessarily benefit anyone

but yourself …

and sometimes not even that

 

I want to know

about the work

that is never finished,

the work that if

you don’t do it

 you’ll die

or go crazy

or worse …

--Sasha Wolfe

Priceless Friendship

Different styles

different techniques

different mediums

and yet

we can totally support

each other

 

Maybe it’s

the one common goal

of being realists

in our paintings

that draws us together

 

Feedback and suggestions

are openly given

with the goal

of helping each other

achieve the results

each desire

in our paintings

 

She doesn’t force

her style on me

nor do I

try to convince her

my way

is the better way

 

In this day

when there is so much angst

with those trying to force

their points of view

onto everyone else,

this freedom of speech

between two very good friends

is emotionally refreshing

 

We’re able to speak freely

while remaining true

to our individual styles

I love learning

about her style

and she enjoys

seeing my progress

 

We remain

unique to ourselves

 

Author’s note: When she was leaving, she was saying how much our friendship means to her. Does to me, too. Funny, here I am a word person, and I can never find the right words, and then she was describing how wonderful our friendship is. So precious, so wonderful. –SW

 

  

Self-isolating Cave

I pull myself back

from the world

crawl into a hole

to protect myself

But the woes fall in

on top of me

I beg, I plead

demand them to leave

They mold around me

like a moldy, bad-luck blanket

smothering

any motivation

I lie huddled

in this dank emotional hole

a shivering, miserable

wreck

I may protect myself

from the world

but that doesn’t protect me

from myself

Some days

my self-isolating cave

isn’t the sanctuary

I want it to be.

Whirlpool of Despair

Feeling so hopeless,

so lost,

can’t figure out

how to fix

what went wrong

 

Technology,

when it doesn’t work,

confuses me,

getting live, human help

is near impossible

 

My desperate thoughts

batter against barriers

in hopeless misery,

tears of despair

rob me of all joy

 

Too much time

wasted in futile attempts

to resolve the issue

drains me of any self-worth

and the ability to think straight

 

Drowning in a whirlpool

of frustration

and hopelessness,

I’m sucked down

in its swirling vortex

 

I lie on the seabed,

a useless mental wreck.