Featured Poetry - February, 2026
THIS WORLD
By John Smith
This world isn't built for a guy like me
One minute high next the lowest you can be
This world isn't built for a guy like me
Full of joy then the future it's hard to see
This world isn't built for a guy like me
Feels like there's two but I am him and he is me
This world isn't built for a guy like me
moods are unpredictable just like the oceans of the sea
This world isn't built for a guy like me
He took my son how can he be so beastly
This world isn't built for a guy like me
Even with pills it's clear for everyone to see
This world isn't built for a guy like me
Sometimes it's like I'm trapped in a box without a key
This world isn't built for a guy like me
Its all I'm my head will I ever be free
This world isn't built for a guy like me
With bio-polar and ADHD
YOU CAN ONLY DO THE BEST YOU CAN
Gary Shulman, MS. Ed.
(Dedicated to a son and daughter on a very difficult journey)
You only can do
The best that you can
In the very same situation
From such turmoil others ran
You try to show compassion
Their younger days you fondly recall
Then they say or do something quite hurtful
That throws your soul up against the wall
You can only do
What you’re capable of doing
And in this situation
It’s kindness you’re pursuing
There’s no end to this poem
But there will eventually be a final act
Just know you’ve done your best
And that is an irrefutable fact
THE IRONY OF LEAD
By Maddi Smith-Nelson
I have navigated the waters
of numbness,
spiritual agony itself.
As the ego forgets.
I am lost in dark shadows.
The psychiatrists know
I fear their clinical states,
their enduring psychic oppression.
But the healing nature of light
will not let me go.
The soul is bitten, hidden.
So, I may walk through the dark
collecting missing souls.
Aligning them with their freedom
and giving limbo a door.
We are not damaged freaks.
We are survivors of the darkest fires.
Wishing to love and live
despite the knocks of hell,
the internal beast.
We are flames of pure, compassionate
unconditional love.
For those who walk
the dark waters of Psychiatry.
Its secrets forced
Into our hearts.
I have muted the mute.
There is a blink in the eye of eternity,
A moment of laughter for the Soul.
ABOUT MADDI: "I hold a masters in creative writing and wellbeing and am an astrologer and reiki master. I have experienced intense trauma within the Mental Health System. I consider myself a navigator of dark clinical states."
THERE'S ALWAYS AN ANSWER
By James Aitchison
In the wet, the Gulf Country floods.
North Queensland becomes a lake.
Creeks run five metres deep,
ten metres wide.
Then comes the drought.
The rocky creek beds are dry,
death hangs in the sullen afternoon,
the heat sucks the air from your lungs,
tree roots cling to the lifeless sandstone,
leaves limp, desolation everywhere,
no hope of survival.
But dig —
dig deep —
and the dry, dead rock
yields its miracle — clean, fresh water,
from an ocean buried in the sandstone,
the source of life that waits for your discovery.
Like everything in this world, you just
have to know it's there ...
MEANING'S LABYRINTH
By David M. White, PhD
It is not the words or deeds of others that bring
Woe and suffering upon our troubled mind,
But rather it is the meaning we assign,
The interpretation we make, that does entwine
Our thoughts and emotions in a knot of pain.
Unseen, unconscious assumptions hold sway,
And color all our experiences with their dye,
Shaping our perceptions, and guiding our way,
In themes that whisper sweet or bitter truths to us,
Such as: “My worth, a fragile thing, depends
Upon the praise or censure of other people’s hands.”
Or thus: “My happiness, a leaf on winds of chance,
Does blow, and flutter, at the whims of others’ glance.”
Or darkest of all: “My feelings, monstrous and awry,
Do make me vile, and worthy of nothing but sighs.”
And lastly: “My deepest needs, and innermost desires,
Do threaten to sunder ties that bind me to the fires
Of love and kinship, that do make life worth living.”
Thus, unaware, we weave our own tapestry,
And manufacture our experience, as if by sorcery.
ABOUT DAVID: David M. White, PhD is a Los Angeles–based poet, composer, and clinical psychologist with 35 years of practice. His work explores the ways perception, meaning, and emotional life shape the human experience, often weaving themes of self‑discovery, personal growth, and the human condition.
I CRIED TODAY
By Shaundra Graves
I cried today because before I could even put the vacuum away something got spilt on the floor.
I cried today because as soon as I straightened up the living room the dogs come in the house muddy jumping on everything.
I cried today because even though I spent over an hour doing dishes by hand yesterday the sink is full again.
I cried today because my kitchen is piled full of things that have nowhere else to go so it never looks clean.
I cried today because every time I clean a surface and make it look neat the very next day it's covered in a new mess.
I cried today because it's almost 4pm and I don't know what's for dinner.
I cried today because I can't manage to get caught up on laundry no matter how hard I try.
I cried today because no matter how many times I ask nicely no one listens to me.
I cried because I wanted to do something special with my daughter today but got stuck at home cleaning instead.
I cried today because I need "down days" after having active or social days.
I cried today because people assume that because I have a hard time leaving the house that I like being alone all the time.
I cried today because no matter how much I beat myself up with guilt or try to push harder there just isn't anymore to give.
I cried today because I'm insecure in every possible way.
I cried today because I needed my mom.
I cried today because I needed to cry.
I cried today because I just couldn't stop.
I cried today because I felt defeated.
I cried today, it wasn't the first time and it won't be the last. I cried today because I'm human ... Yes I admit I cried today and then I wiped my own face, Dried my own tears, and went on about my day because time doesn't stop for no one and the world doesn't care who cried today or why.
ABOUT SHAUNDRA: "I am a 35 year old stay-at-home mom. I have ADHD, C-ptsd, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Schizoaffective Disorder, MDD Borderline Personality, Mild Agoraphobia and a form of insomnia called non 24 sleep disorder (it's a lot I know!). I have been writing most of my life but I stopped for a long time, and just recently decided to start writing again. My poems have seemed to centered themselves around my struggles with mental health and I hope that by sharing my words I can help someone else find words for their own struggles."
THE WORLD'S GREATEST COUNSELLOR
By Carrie Cutts
Dear Emilio,
Every week, you and I, we would meet for a chat
It was good to know that you had my back
With no reason to care, a cup of tea, a gentle tone,
Your patience is endless, safe and cosy, like home
Dangling by a thread in time and space,
Like a pendulum’s swing, I was losing pace.
Swinging back to the past to recall the view,
But its never as clear as when the swinging was new.
Drenched in darkness, I would wade through my day.
Gradually, problems inching further away.
Riddled with pain and weighed down by sorrow,
I might break free soon, perhaps even tomorrow.
They don’t understand, I don’t want to be free!
I wont act happy for the whole world to see.
I want the memories of the good times to stay.
I’m terrified now, they will all fade away.
The movie in my mind on constant replay,
I binge-watch and rewind when I lose my way.
My confidence is all used up and gone.
The world around me has shrugged and moved on.
Holding tight to the past inside my mind,
Keeps the memories and my hope alive.
The dreams still linger, like a kiss in the rain
Each night, reconstructed with none of the blame.
I live for when hope turns reality.
I cant put down the possibility.
Yet I reach for one of life’s happiest things,
And if I recognise joy, my heart can now sing.
We can no longer meet every week for a chat.
I cant live forever and ever like that.
You didn’t run away when you lifted the lid,
I’m so thankful you caught me, as no one else did.
Now I need to be brave and walk on alone.
If I ever slip you are the first I will phone.
When I need a friend or feelings are raw,
I will also need the world’s greatest counsellor
But it’s time.
I need to look up and expand what I see.
The whole world can’t always be about me.
Thank you for everything Emilio.
ABOUT THE POEM: "This poem is a letter about the sad end of a relationship with a highly valued counsellor, someone you wish was also your friend so that it didn't have to end. It reflects on the journey of support, comfort and exploration. It considers what is left, the writer's perception of the rest of the world from the inside and what they feel they need to hang on to, even from a heart breaking situation. Be kind to yourself, wherever you are in your life."
ABOUT CARRIE:
Dr Carrie Cutts is an optical assistant, former educator and writer from Poole, UK. Her work explores emotional truth, resilience, and the healing power of hope. Through poetry, she maps the inner landscapes of survival and transformation.
HAPPINESS
By Jean Antonello
What can I do, I ponder now
To always be awash in bliss
Is there a trick—a method how
To capture fleeting happiness?
I wrack my brain but cannot tell
How to make glad feeling last
This trait does often not endure—
It’s here one day then gone so fast
Just thinking of it won’t achieve
The feeling—but it will resist
And this emotion we believe
May aim at you but often miss
Oh happiness I dare say you
Are hard to come by any way
Though all we want of you is to
Be there in our work and play
But asking will not bring you near
Though we seek you day and night
And though by grace you may appear
But soon we know you’re out of sight
This state of mind elusive is
And can’t be sought for its own sake
It shows up much like magic does
Surprising, smiling birthday cake
So seek ye not this happiness
As soon it comes and disappears
You would as well clutch at a star
Especially when you think it near
THE BENEDICTION FOR THE DETAINED
By Thy-Justice A Lumen
She would pray for all of day
For change for those detained,
Across earths way, and across the UK
And in the way she would pray for all of day
That change would help and surely stay
For when it stayed, none had they paid
For their pain and suffering
The sufferings felt by those detained
Those in fear, those whom are pained
Those that feel heavy
Those that feel ashamed
For when they know God’s love is there
Only then do they know of care
Care they wish they could receive
If only, in all of their dreams
For dreams are broken
When systems are broken
And all of their words
Are left unspoken
Never to be heard , never again
What was this lord, was this pain
I’d never wish it to ever, return again
For in their shame, was their gain
Of souls and of hearts
When the new mental health act spoke, No more would we lose our hope
Hopes of a better start, not one from far apart, One that comes from the heart
For when souls learned to dance,
And hearts sung from the lung
That’s when they really can dance that chance
Then the detained's footsteps, The restrained ones
The ones on the floor, Like never before
Never again, can they do this,
not no more, not like this
For when the system gets it right
Our lights, will light, light so bright
For every day and every night, it wont be such a fight
In a place we can be free, free as you, not as me
Because the Reform can’t you see, Needs to be rolled out
URGENTLY
ABOUT THE POEM: "The piece is written from lived experience and reflects on psychiatric detention, restraint, faith, and the urgent need for compassionate mental health reform."
ABOUT THY-JUSTICE: Thy-Justice is a UK-based writer and lived-experience advocate. Her work explores mental health, detention, faith, and systemic justice, drawing on personal experience of psychiatric care and recovery. She writes to give voice to those whose experiences are often silenced, and to support compassionate reform within mental health systems.
THE PUZZLE OF MY EXISTENCE
By Barbara Joycee Rani
Tormented by my own race,
To be the Achilles of this very human maze.
Cultured by the money casinos,
I took myself to prolong quarantine.
Crazy sapiens, licking the notes;
As they are leeches and moths.
I saw the truth of sapiens,
When i failed on my own time,
Killed by poisoned lips,
Those insults still bled my heart to my hips.
The riddle never ends
It spirals, spirals like a wall clock
Till it has my body choked.
ABOUT THE POEM: This poem represents the trauma of being a bright student and excelling academically.Relatives force her to get more good grades. The pressure of being forcefully bounded by her own race questions her mere identity, questioning her own existence.
MORE THAN FLESH
By Shradha Deshmukh
Is the flesh all you see?
Or do you tend to dive into the inner beauty
My brain is a masterpiece
Yet you Laugh upon my untended insignificant painting of my skin
I am Who I am and I am proud to be
Go take away your beauty standards
And drown them in a bottom of the sea of your filth and fragile
Disguised in your sigma counterfeit
Where do I take my gold trophies
And hide them?
From your medusa eyes that turn into a mere stone,
Your words and your despise
Did I break a record?
Do I deserve all this?
Excelled only
To plan my own downfall?
No, my dear,
It is only heaven’s call.
One day,
I will be the greatest of them all.
The shady misled youth considering bullying the new “cool.”
ABOUT THE POEM: "This poem focuses on mental health awareness, addressing themes such as bullying, self-worth, inner beauty, and the emotional impact of unrealistic societal standards on youth. Through this piece, I aim to encourage resilience, self-acceptance, and emotional strength."
ABOUT SHRADHA: Shradha is a student and emerging writer from India. Her poetry focuses on mental health awareness, self-worth, and the social challenges faced by today’s youth.
UNREST
By Barry Thorne
For me there are storms,
where you go to rest,
Explosions and memories
and sounds, more or less.
This isn’t a cry out for help,
nonetheless,
Regardless of what others
may try to suggest.
For me there’s no peace,
No downtime or rest,
But a daily machine
of constant unrest.
The mental and physical,
and emotional ingress,
is too much for this man
alone to digest.
I feel this is weakness,
severe lack of power,
and what it is not
is my finest hour.
The blame here does not
land only with me,
there are others responsible
that hide what you see.
The punishment must only
be directed at me,
the punishment for what
remains to be seen.
It’s constant,
relentless,
continuous,
non-stop.
The effect that it has
keeps piling on top,
nothing disappears,
it just keeps adding up.
Unrelenting in nature,
and keeps speeding up,
will leave me no choice
but to one day give up.
A REPLY TO ECHOES
By MOC
After fear,
Light,
Please shine brighter;
Brighten up the darkness,
Bring calm into my heart.
Light,
Open up new doors,
Don’t let regrets linger,
Wipe tears from my eyes.
Words can’t be taken back,
Time is ever moving,
What’s done cannot be recalled.
If the past still lingers,
Moving on will be hard—
Shine brighter on the now.
ABOUT THE POEM: The fears were real. Those moments aren't an illusion, but in the darkness of it all, I hope you find your light.
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