Psychiatry poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of psychiatry poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on psychiatry are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
You might be watching me, but I am watching you, You think that you’re listening but I am hearing you, You read my body language but I read yours loud and clear, You’re present in the room but your mind
The rope around my throat is black That much I know I’m dead because of his heartless attacks The person everyone knows The reflection in the mirror isn’t my own It’s a ghost, a phantom, sitting on his throne His
This is my portrait of you. It speaks to me in strange, colored verses, in whispered codes of ancient languages. I often get that illusion. You are not easy to ignore. I’ve long studied its dog-eared corners, one by one,
My deep eyes owe a few colourful dreams Blue Waters are dancing in the quiet streams I still play with the chocolate ice-creams Rubbing them against lips While licking those delicious creams Equally touching my hairband strips My dreams chase
The wasp makes its inscrutable plans multitasking cleaning its wings with its hind feet what must it think of the dirt stains ghosts of rainwater covering the outer window like hammer marks all its parts, segmented, moving independent while the
Heart beats say knock knock Feeling the sentimental shocks Listening to the bells of love clocks Silently progressing those tic toks Those lips and their locks Smokers’ lips and the romantic lip locks! Belladonnas are dancing with blazing frocks Birds
I will make amends with me today, stop fighting with myself. Unthinkable to live without pain, in war with suffering. Quietly cries the flame without sound. While night lingers on. Nothing was easy for a quick resignation of ephemeral tears.
It was a domestic pain, when we came apart in boots and helmets. Taking the shine away, moon gave up the fight on lake, against the clouds, a sniper intuitingly, started a homicidal blasting to start the rains. An ode
A fat island burns under a looming sun. Bleeding rays will enter your eyes to see the blundering world. The gods were melting down looking at the corpses of faltering orchids, spread out at the feet of a white blaze.
Today I’m doing a little writing, At times it’s quite frightening. The ink is black, the paper is moist, I like to scratch out words, that is my choice. A lot of thoughts gather round my head; I fail to
My thoughts of which I let known Were nothing to me all left alone Some slipt away while others pondered In which mostly all were left squandered Or maybe it’s just a hobby of mine To throw a few words
There is Heaven somewhere But there is one on the Earth That is a Mother who gives birth More than taking care her child She is glued to her child Noting every movement Laughs when the child laughs Cries when
A killing truck running mad I turn Mozartian with a poison gland. You thought Shoemaker is some fall guy. When you don’t even know the meaning, sigh. My measure is King Cobra XIIth. Fear the venom, not the length. Lamp
I woke up knowing it was time. Only last week I was told about what was growing inside of me. They said it didn’t belong there. We are ready they said. Staring into its soon to hit nonexistence, the bitterness
Expedition of life starts at dawn. Trainers come genetically, custom and society fill the gap, we start a journey, the route is misty. I started for the Kanchenjunga Half of the track was well lit road rest was chosen weather-wise.
Why should the black be discriminated ? whether your blood be high land or low, whether your skin be black or white as the snow, Of reason there’s none, and why should there be As long as there’s fire in
I still remember the day, when you had left me alone , without saying bye , without telling me your annoyance, remember you every moment , miss you with my weeping eyes, feel as if my heart stopped working ,
Meaninglessly traversing into the havoc of vanity With a fake logic justified, Leaving the players into the deathly chasm. A Blue bottle game denying the soul of life! Two and two they say ten, And it is their game playing
O my sons of soil and daughters! I nursed you with my nectar But what you gave me back Loads of your filth and squalor. I watered your fields and orchards Bedewing lips quenched your thirst But you robbed of
At this very hour of my life I am sitting alone with a heavy headache I have neither anger nor hatred for you; But I simply pity you And I feel sinful myself; You made me venture into this impossibility
It was simple, it was effortless All too transparent and ever so clear Life threw its bounties at him His hard road was strewn with maps to its wonders At every dead end he found a shovel At every crossroad
Dreaming autumn night is really an Unspeakable pleasure; he knows it. Therefore when dusk settles on earth Inviting blinking stars to showcase Their tiny births; when coy crickets Being too cold in season’s first dews, That drip from the cold
Can we borrow the eyes of winter and spring to detect — behind the slippery, crystal-glassy, prayer-like quiet and focus of a sentinel, a snowman half-disfigured when scrutinized by early February winds — sparkles from an unseen, unbeatable citadel? Perhaps
We seldom expect the unexpected We were preparing to go to work We got agitated for small discomfort We shouted and blamed each other for nothing We felt life is ruined because of our mismatch We prayed this be the
The sun comes up and the sun goes down. Spring Has turned into autumn and now all the leaves Are falling to the ground. White laced woman When will all your dreams come true? Broken Hearted she cries “I know
He met her Lady on a bicycle She flashed her sweet smile Her lovely hair Flowing with the wind Surprised and captivated He managed only a half smile And she was gone Ringing bell dying in the distance Lady and
Crock-sockers, We ate ’em all Serve no good, Other than to chew the fat, To bake away the day Motivations like that should be cancelled, As most are being paid for productivity, Not only to wear khakis and a crooked
Cancer woke up, The passionate wanderer, One with nature’s beauty, From a well of silence. It whispered to me, The value of time, To an awakening of, Embracing every season. In an endless sea, Of eternal harmony, To gather my
In a stare it can echo, Across the unwritten lines, The stir can make you, Find ways to forget time. In a stare it can shine, Sunlight too bright to see, Shielding your watery eyes, Ears blast still listening. The
Sought by lasting connections, Throughout many directions, An ideal still remains, To us virtues accompany our name. Well though suffering on, In physical motions beyond, Every iota of faith, Around the same time every day. There just past valleys of
I want the wall of divide to fall apart and Forget we’re born of different parents We are the children God made for love Now the parents of children teaching only love above all. Let’s once again remember our childhood
With the brightness of Sun shading away Today is slipping away into yesterday With darkness hovering deep over the skies Tonight is inching towards tomorrow Deep into slumber are the birds,the creatures, the animals so also the roads,the colony and