Featured Poetry - November, 2025

BEHIND MY WILL

By Emily Astey

It’s remarkable what I remember,

but more traumatic what I don’t.

How he makes some memories clear

and other times he won’t.

How I can feel the happenings

like I’m going through them now.

All my senses alert but still,

and the devil fulfills his vow.

The hell it is to just recall

a moment that froze time.

How it stunts my every thought,

my motions, and my rhyme.

For what is going on inside

is more than just a war.

It’s the annihilation

of all things in my core.

I can’t lie still amidst the craze.

My mind is going wild.

And then I turn my focus

to the fact that I’m a child.

I never grew much past an age

where I knew of my worth.

Consequently, I’m too young

regardless of my birth.

So naïve and gullible.

Too slow to catch the trick.

And I continue to build walls,

and lay them brick by brick.

But, now’s the time to devastate

the house that I have built.

To reject all defiant thoughts,

the horror, and the guilt.

With this resurrection

I will live, yes, I suppose.

But if I’m idle I will think

as the terror only grows.

Does the arrow point to me?

Am I the one to blame?

I hurt so much so deep inside.

I look from whence it came.

Rooted in a structure

That towers high above.

What I thought I knew was right

Was really never love.

Days spent in confusion.

A realm of doubt at night.

Trying not to make a sound

And hiding from a fight.

Relentless are the many fears

That’ve left me deaf and dumb.

How I brace for tragedy

When it might never come.

Why the screaming in my brain,

The discomfort in my heart.

Planning out an ending

When I’ve been injured from the start.

Can anyone provide the answers

Or at least impair confusion?

I would like to understand,

To manifest a conclusion.

Will it take a magic trick

Or just a sleight of hand

While I try to bypass fate

And rule with some command?

How does this build up my spirit?

Of what is anger made?

And all this time I waste on questions

I watch that spirit fade.

I wonder if my wings were clipped

Or if I never flew.

A stranger amongst the many clouds

Regardless of the view.

I recognize I’m on a leash

And thus, I cease to pull.

With the chain around my neck,

I’ve misplaced my soul.

My faith stuck in a corner.

My ideals locked in a drawer.

Any pride hangs in the closet.

Of everything I’m unsure.

I bite my nails and hold my breath. 

There’s discomfort, then, the pain.

Any hope of clarity

Is a wish I hold in vain.

So, as I search for answers

It’s the heart that can’t be still.

I’ll rise above the questions

If that’s what’s behind my will.

At least I want to step aside

From the air put in my chest.

The thoughts that birth the panic

Removing any hope of rest.

But, now that drawer is open,

The closet door’s ajar.

The clouds are apt to move again

And thus, reveal a star.

How my faith must turn around.

There’s much more to believe.

I’ll stop asking questions.

I’ve got feathers to retrieve.

I BECAME ME

By David Cleofas Avila

I became the craziest

Person in the room,

Then I was asked to leave,

After which, I was just another soul

Wandering toward some past goal;

I became scared, and,

Fearful I was the craziest-

Person alive,

Asked for help,

From those whom I could-

Share with what I had become,

So, I became a patient

In denial of my memories

Of being asked to leave

The room of my peers,

For I could not accept

What I had become;

Begrudgingly I ate the pills

The doctors prescribed,

I became a regular client

At a mental health office,

Eventually, I became, once again

Able to remember the me I was-

Before I became shunned,

And of that thought, 

I would not let go,

Striving every day,

No longer wandering,

But toward my goal,

Of shedding what I had become;

But,

I became a failure,

Many times, at work and school,

Before I became a success-

I even became the most-functioning,

Craziest person in the room,

Unfortunately, I had to remove 

myself from the good company,

For memories of a long past me,

Being asked by my peers to leave,

I could not shake;

Therefore, in order to square away

The sequelae of life,

I wrote, sang, and painted

Until I became me.

But Therein, Underneath,

Feelings. Chaos.

Swallowed. Pill by pill.

Sanity claws uphill.

Sifting through shifting

fugue 'n' voices.

Until calm mind returns;

A magical delight,

Once, before lightning

In a scream,

Defined me,

Robbing me of me,

Taking me from you.

Excitement is exciting,

But insanity is

far from fun;

Laughing, sharing

non jokes with no one,

Sent to help, even

Asked for it,

despite Incredible

Whispers beckoning

"do not take

pills, one by one,

that take this world

from me." But therein,

Underneath, lay

A memory of,

An inkling of a feeling,

That the chaos I feel

Does not resonate

With anyone.

ABOUT DAVID: A former Peer Support Specialist with a B.A. in Psychology from Sonoma State University, having experienced psychosis as a teen, later diagnosed with schizophrenia, David Cleofas Avila writes and makes art & music to better square away the sequelae of life. His poetry has been published in Oddball Magazine, eMerge Magazine, The Poetry Cove, Flora Fiction, and Breath & Shadow.

UNTITLED

By Charity Louise

I hear them there every day.

Why will they not go away?

They tell me that I'll be betrayed.

Will it really be that way?

They fill my brain with thoughts and doubts.

Will I ever make it out

Of the hell that I am in?

I don't think I'll ever win.

I'm sure they've taken over me.

The voices make me want to flee.

They make me want to cry inside,

but I know that I can't hide.

A SILENT BATTLE

Samantha Rae Soria

Do you hear the whispers in the darkness?

Have you seen the person behind the mask on the shallows?

Anguished feelings behind the shadows of madness

road maps are crazy that no one follows

A battle with no guns, no shield ,no bullets

No crew, No tanks just one man standing, 

behind the strength is a deep cut

and a reminder to keep on fighting

those silent cries yet who is to blame 

only birds with the same feather understands this dangerous game

despite the hard work the results are same

just your name with an excuse so lame

I wish upon a star 

that the silent warrior goes far

be heard, understood, and win the war

a war that has a lot of demise

a silent battle to be won in pure blessing in disguise

AGAINST COMPOSURE

By Didi West

I make a dazzling first impression.

It’s easy, really—

charm is a trick of rhythm,

and I’ve spent years keeping time.

But rhythm falters.

The joke lands wrong.

My kindness begins to echo.

Someone sighs.

I become too much again.

When did the world decide

that callousness was elegant?

That gentleness required apology?

That cruelty was a fair response

to a person who simply spoke too long?

I’m told to adjust.

To dilute.

To learn the choreography of acceptable.

But my mind never learned

to whisper when it’s curious

or to sleep when it’s alive.

Still, I marvel at people—

their beauty only reveals itself

after their compassion does.

Maybe that’s why faces blur for me,

until the kindness sharpens them into focus.

I’m guilty, I suppose—

of honesty without varnish,

of enthusiasm mistaken for noise.

If that’s a crime,

then the world must love its prisoners

quiet.

REFLECTIONS
By Amber Drake

Eyes are the mirror of the soul it’s said
So I stare into my own eyes in the mirror
To see if I can find my soul reflected there

I see myself reflected endlessly in myself
And I wonder:
Which one of us is the real one?

There are so many reflections
So many aspects of the truth
So many masks to wear and discard

I’m scratching the surface
Digging through accumulated layers of dirt
Trying to claw my way to my roots

I’m struggling to find my self
Hidden beneath the thick overgrowth
Of other peoples’ expectations

ABOUT AMBER: Amber is an artist and a poet. She's diagnosed with a bipolar 2 disorder. She began writing poems as a way to deal with depression.

Facebook: @darkamberdragon

THIS TOO SHALL PASS

By Dr. Carrie Cutts

You’re at the bottom.

The lowest of the low.

Where sea creatures of the deep,

Lurk down below.

No one sees tearful, salt-filled eyes.

Wherever you look, the dark’s the same size.

Translucent skin in a colourless home,

The ocean grips you, as a dog holds a bone.

You want to be safe, warm, loved and dry,

But down here, incessant waves are the only sky.

Sharp, rocky shards make every step agony,

Muddles your mind with atrocious tragedy.

Cutting in deep, to the flesh of your feet

Yet kicking harder is the only relief

Lift yourself up,

Take giant moon-walk style leaps.

From cracks in despair, a soft courage peeps.

Scramble up the water, as hard as it seems,

Along the ropes of bright sunbeams

Waves tug you in their own direction

Nothing you want changes their destination.

Soft light ripples, the surface is in view.

Curious fish swarm, smiling around you

Sunlight erupts in radiant calm

Luxurious shallows unburden each qualm

Tides lead you where they grind on the sand

While you gasp happy breaths,

Someone takes your hand

This too shall pass, you’ve seen it before,

The tide retreats, and hope comes ashore.

You see the sun high in the sky.

You are no longer alone,

You are home…

and safe,

and warm,

and dry.

You may return to the dark depths of life,

Dragged back again by a rip tide or two,

But you’re stronger now,

You know what to do.

Maybe you fight and swim to the sun,

Or catch a lazy river ‘til the sad part is done.

Because nothing stays the same,

People come and go,

And everything changes,

Especially you.

ABOUT THE POEM: "This poem is a journey from darkness to light, a reflection on the quiet strength it takes to rise again. Deep sadness and tough times can linger for a while, but it's not forever. If you’ve ever felt pulled under by life’s rip tides, may these words remind you that the surface is still there, things do get better, and you are not alone. Meanwhile, we ride the wave and we constantly reach for the sunlight. Be kind to yourself, wherever you are in your life."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Carrie is an 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.



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