Lines for a Fortune Cookie for NaPoWriMo Day 21

The next time you feel down, someone will tell you to pick yourself back up and get over it.

You will "like" a Facebook page dedicated to mental illness advocacy and education.

Choose your words carefully. Stigma bites and it might come back and bite you.

An important message is waiting for you at http://www.bringchange2mind.org/

Someone close to you has a mental illness. They're just not saying so.

Stress is wearing you down. Slow down before you hurt yourself.

Talk to someone. You need to share and they need to hear.

Are you really OCD? Or do you just like saying that?

You will soon meet someone with depression.

Participate in your local NAMIWalk.

Sing. It's good for you.

Recovery is possible.

Are you crazy?

Meditate.

Just breathe.

Take one step at a time.

Your insurance will cover it.

Imagine your world if she wasn't sick.

Try listening to understand rather than to respond.

Good things will come to you if you follow this blog. ;)

You are the 1 in the 1 in 10 that will experience depression.

Your bad attitude is the reason people with mental illnesses don't seek help.

Every criminal is not mentally ill and every mentally ill person is not a criminal.

Suicide is not funny. Tell that to the next person you hear make a joke about it.

Remember to tell them you love them. Every day.

Pillars

Ancient Egyptian Tarot

As part of NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month) I tried my hand at a form of poetry called Fibonacci. It's based on the Fibonacci series that's built by adding the last two numbers of the list together to create the next number in the list.  Like this....

1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, etc.

Do you see it? Add the first two numbers together to make the third. Add the second and third numbers to make the fourth. Each number in the series determines the number of syllables in each line.

I'm also participating in the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. It's tough to keep up, to post every day and I don't really succeed. I spend time on Saturdays and Sundays writing posts for more than one day. It's good work for me. I'm always amazed at what the final result looks like. I start with one idea and strike out in that direction but somewhere along the way I invariably follow some side trail into unfamiliar territory. 

Pillars

by Jennifer Clark (c) April 20, 2013

Life.

Death.

Between

these pillars

all chaos and calm

tumbles, rambles, crumbles, and grows.

Bitter and better, crueler and  kinder. I'm tired.

Between the pillars the wheel turns, torn, born, torn again. House falls, death calls, I crawl to rest.

The Power of Nature

step

outside

my front door

fresh air filled lungs

soft sunlight kissed skin

down concrete stairs to earth

dry dirt, hard ground holding me

grass crunches beneath each footfall

provokes emotions believed long past

by Jennifer Clark
(c) April 13, 2013

For more information about National Poetry Writing Month go to the NaPoWriMo website.

Photo by Jennifer Clark (c) May 2012

Hatred

Hatred

rises at the

thought of you standing there

before me with arms outstretched like

I should still be in love with you. I cringe.

I recoil and you advance like

touching me will make right

all the hurt and

hatred.

Anger

rises at the

thought of you watching me,

eyes searching for a flash of hope,

a moment of weakness when you can pounce,

say sorry, and think our lives will

go on like all is right.

You'll see only

anger.

by Jennifer Clark

(c) April 12, 2013


For more information about National Poetry Writing Month go to the NaPoWriMo website.

Attempt at a Tanka

The challenge for today from NaPoWriMo is to write a type of poem called a tanka. It's a strange form (to me, at least) but what the heck. I couldn't come up with anything that would fit the theme of this blog, so this little five-line poem has nothing to do with mental illness.

My living room

by Jennifer Clark

(c) April 11, 2013

Couch and a lounge chair?

Mine are in such disrepair.

Rug, lamp, solitaire?

They're yours but they're calling me.

I'll take them if they are free.

For more information about National Poetry Writing Month go to the NaPoWriMo website.

Hotlines and Help

Hotlines can help, lend a hand, hold out hope.

Ease. Intercede. Slow the slide down the slope.

Lifelines are allies when we cannot cope.

Prevent the next death with assurance of hope.

by Jennifer Clark (c) April 2013

If you or someone you know is thinking about suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1.800.273.TALK (1.800.273.8255).

For more information about the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge see the website of the same name.
For more information about National Poetry Writing Month go to the NaPoWriMo website.

Gift

Sweet breath, sweet air, I lift up hope on you.
Convey my love across the stormy skies.

Deliver hope to heart and heart renew.

You must relieve such hurt and pain and cries.

Soft wind, take gentle care as you imbue

In tender soul, new life before it dies.

We have not long; you must be swift.

Bear my hope and make of hope a gift.

by Jennifer Clark (c)April 2013

For more information about the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge see the website of the same name.
For more information about National Poetry Writing Month go to the NaPoWriMo website.

Her Name

Warning: Possible Trigger

Remember. Say her name aloud. It’s right.

Though heart will hurt and cry and rage and fight.

In suicide, the mind it lies to you.

It says hope’s gone -- review your life for proof.

Controlled by pain and frail from sadness deep,

through suicide she found a sick relief.

Yet denigrate her life on how she died

with words so cruel. In ignorance defile.

The fault’s not hers, nor mine, nor yours. Instead

the blame belongs to darkness left unsaid.

How can you understand her hopeless fear?

Lost hope. Lost light. Lost will to persevere?

Do keep in memory how her life was lived.

Let anger fade. Compassion find. Forgive.

By Jennifer Clark (c)2013

For more information about National Poetry Writing Month go to the NaPoWriMo website.

D is for Death

Warning: Possible trigger

Dance with Death

My body will rot in the ground.

Will I, like a serpent, then shed

my skin to gain a life new found?

It’s a mortal spirit I dread.

I want eternal life instead.

Do I get new life and new limb?

Shall I to nothingness be wed?

He invites me to dance with Him.

Taking His hand to dance, I’m bound

to Him. To the ball I am led.

In His arms, we twirl round and round.

My death, guaranteed, is ahead.

Fear grips the life before me spread.

I won’t accept an end so grim.

I cling to life thus live in dread.

He invites me to dance with Him.

But music beyond does resound.

From the thick mire where dwells the dead

does beauty arise and surround

my body. All terror has fled.

I am pulled into earth’s sweet bed.

My mind succumbed to the sweet hymn.

The light of life from me was bled

He invites me to dance with him.

For time my soul in dark was fed.

Then all around was not so dim.

This side the veil my name was said.

He invites me to dance with Him.

by Jennifer Clark (c) April 2013

For more information about the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge see the website of the same name.
For more information about National Poetry Writing Month go to the NaPoWriMo website.