10-08-2017, 01:57 AM
I need to smother it,
to take this feather filled pillow
that lies by my side,
decorated with ducklings,
scented with roses
& memories of childhood.
Pull it close,
a defence against this Monster
stalking our lives,
who continually taps
at our bedroom door,
staring into spaces,
with hands never clean
& rules to be followed
written in blood.
The noise never-ending,
there is no sleep for those
who lie beside
the clock that forever ticks.
---
I want to smother it;
To take this feather filled pillow
that lies by my side
decorated with ducklings,
scented with roses
& memories of childhood.
Pulled close,
a defence against this Monster
that continually taps
at our bedroom door,
staring into spaces,
with hands never clean
& rules to be followed
written in blood.
The noise neverending,
there is no rest for those
who stand beside
the clock that ticks.
---
I'm not quite sure how to add notes as to what it is about so I have written them at the side in brackets so that recommendations on improvement (all gratefully received) can retain the message I am trying to get across. PS the poem is about how I'm trying to cope with my partners OCD not my own.
I want to smother you; (The OCD not my partner although at times that is questionable ;
The feather filled pillow (This is how I cope, when I was a child I would crawl into bed to hide with my cuddly toys, ie ducklings & flowers)
that lies by my side
decorated with ducklings
and scented with roses.
Pulled close, (A child holds a teddy close when they are in pain)
a reassuring presence
as the winds howl,
trees tapping on the window. (The Monster in the room, the OCD still taps on the window, forever present)
My hope, (I've changed this, it's meant to show that although my hope still exists, it is losing its way)
hidden on a page,
lost in translation,
a book without a narrative.
Uncontrollable urges (His symptoms, he counts, anything really, he taps)
to count letters,
tapping your feet on carpets
so as not to be heard.
Hands never clean, (More symptoms, washes hands, stares at nothing, everything has to be perfect, he cannot cope if anything deviates from those that are agreed)
staring into spaces,
rules to be followed
written in blood.
Order in existence, (More symptoms, everything follows a set order, it doesnt matter how long it takes, so days planned are lost)
time irrelevant,
each day lost
in a labyrinth with no end.
Take away the pain (The pain is caused by his anger at being unable to control his urges & not achieving what he wants within the time set, a ticking time bomb).
for there is no rest for those
who stand beside
the clock that ticks.
---
I want to smother you;
The feather filled pillow
that lies by my side
decorated with ducklings
and scented with roses.
Pulled close,
a reassuring presence
as the winds howl,
trees tapping on the window.
Hope simply a memory,
hidden underground
in a woodland nook,
sanctity in its silence.
Take away the pain,
uncontrollable urges
to count letters,
tapping your feet on carpets
so as not to be heard.
No rest for those
who stand beside
the clock that ticks.
to take this feather filled pillow
that lies by my side,
decorated with ducklings,
scented with roses
& memories of childhood.
Pull it close,
a defence against this Monster
stalking our lives,
who continually taps
at our bedroom door,
staring into spaces,
with hands never clean
& rules to be followed
written in blood.
The noise never-ending,
there is no sleep for those
who lie beside
the clock that forever ticks.
---
I want to smother it;
To take this feather filled pillow
that lies by my side
decorated with ducklings,
scented with roses
& memories of childhood.
Pulled close,
a defence against this Monster
that continually taps
at our bedroom door,
staring into spaces,
with hands never clean
& rules to be followed
written in blood.
The noise neverending,
there is no rest for those
who stand beside
the clock that ticks.
---
I'm not quite sure how to add notes as to what it is about so I have written them at the side in brackets so that recommendations on improvement (all gratefully received) can retain the message I am trying to get across. PS the poem is about how I'm trying to cope with my partners OCD not my own.
I want to smother you; (The OCD not my partner although at times that is questionable ;
The feather filled pillow (This is how I cope, when I was a child I would crawl into bed to hide with my cuddly toys, ie ducklings & flowers)
that lies by my side
decorated with ducklings
and scented with roses.
Pulled close, (A child holds a teddy close when they are in pain)
a reassuring presence
as the winds howl,
trees tapping on the window. (The Monster in the room, the OCD still taps on the window, forever present)
My hope, (I've changed this, it's meant to show that although my hope still exists, it is losing its way)
hidden on a page,
lost in translation,
a book without a narrative.
Uncontrollable urges (His symptoms, he counts, anything really, he taps)
to count letters,
tapping your feet on carpets
so as not to be heard.
Hands never clean, (More symptoms, washes hands, stares at nothing, everything has to be perfect, he cannot cope if anything deviates from those that are agreed)
staring into spaces,
rules to be followed
written in blood.
Order in existence, (More symptoms, everything follows a set order, it doesnt matter how long it takes, so days planned are lost)
time irrelevant,
each day lost
in a labyrinth with no end.
Take away the pain (The pain is caused by his anger at being unable to control his urges & not achieving what he wants within the time set, a ticking time bomb).
for there is no rest for those
who stand beside
the clock that ticks.
---
I want to smother you;
The feather filled pillow
that lies by my side
decorated with ducklings
and scented with roses.
Pulled close,
a reassuring presence
as the winds howl,
trees tapping on the window.
Hope simply a memory,
hidden underground
in a woodland nook,
sanctity in its silence.
Take away the pain,
uncontrollable urges
to count letters,
tapping your feet on carpets
so as not to be heard.
No rest for those
who stand beside
the clock that ticks.