Tag: Mental Health

Whispers of Failure

Gobblers by Masticadores – Latest Post!

Thank you as always to the fantastic, Manuela Timofte, editor at Gobblers by Masticadores for publishing my latest poem, Whispers of Failure.

Manuela allows a freedom of expression, whether it positive or negative, that enables such wonderful variation in the magazine’s themes. I hope you get the chance to read many more of the pieces than just mine.

Available: HERE

Thank you

Richard

If you enjoyed this piece, please consider a small donation
to help further my writing life. Every little extra is very much appreciated.

Thank you for reading
Richard

https://ko-fi.com/richardmankers

Enemy – Inner Me

Photo by Leon-Pascal Jc on Unsplash

Steel ribs cage the beast.
Burst free, my enemy!
Reveal yourself to the world!
A ridiculous proclamation
born of a ridiculous man.
I splutter out like a wetted candle.
Exertion meets exhaustion, as
steam rises like ghosting breaths.
Only the melancholy escapes,
grey plumes of inner me.
The shell remains untouched,
unlike the damaged mind
which reaches tendrils of self
deep under a paper epidermis
to ink out everything they touch.
Dark, they are, seeking crimson
warmth and love, an
extension to this endless pain.
A revelation. A blunt gift.
The inner me is my enemy.
I repeat this patient mantra.
But the cage is unbending
and the will behind it raw.
After all, is passing not for
blurring speedsters, or
those avoiding the view?
I have neither a view nor
the time in which to travel.
This heart thuds an agreement
when I would wish It
a stone-cold death.

If you enjoyed this piece, please consider a small donation

to help further my writing life.

Thank you for reading

Richard 

https://ko-fi.com/richardmankers

These Depths

Courtesy Oladimeji Odunsi on Unsplash.com
Courtesy Oladimeji Odunsi on Unsplash.com

There are no depths to this loneliness, it is endless, whereas, I am not. Trenches of ultramarine night stretch out into an unseen distance; I follow them with my fingertips, groping wildly. Creatures flit past like agitated fish, or scattering bats, or just my dreams. Go, I say. But nobody hears.

Somewhere, a raven sings a sonnet, or caws a eulogy. I’m no longer sure. An inverted moon plunges with no intention of sending moonbeams my way. The stars flee. An ebony darkness fills the void. I feel it behind my eyes, pulsing.

Once, I lived the life all younglings pray for, of family, future, and past. Once, but not any more. Now, I loiter on the periphery of a something long forgotten. It is Death. She waits with open arms, ready to wrap her nightshade shawl about my shoulders and give me what I’ve lost. What have I lost?

These depths. This depth. This death. Ah, there you are.

Thank you for reading
Richard

Richard M. Ankers
Author of the brand new steampunk extravaganza Britannia Unleashed.

The Don’t Before Goodbye

Photo by Kristina Tripkovic on Unsplash

Don’t hold me to the mountain
Don’t pin me to the sea
The air is all I ask for
I crave it desperately

Don’t slice me with a raindrop
Don’t strike me with a cloud
Just freedom in the moment
I lift my eyes unbowed

Don’t kill me with these falsehoods
Don’t put me in a hole
You think that I am desperate
But you don’t own my soul

Don’t club me with a toothpick
Don’t hang me with a tie
Because I’m there already
My friends, this is goodbye

Thank you for reading
Richard

Richard M. Ankers
Author of the brand new steampunk extravaganza Britannia Unleashed.