Beauty and Blood E-Book

Joshua Harestad

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Beauty and Blood is a poetic journey through mental illness, with beautiful moments of serenity and glimpses of nature. It is an honest look through the eyes of someone suffering through depression and anxiety, and fighting to overcome addicition to self harm.

Leseprobe

Joshua Harestad

Beauty and Blood

A Poetry Collection

This book is dedicated to my lovely wife and partner, Elizabeth, and our two beautiful boys, Benjamin and Drake.BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

A Quiet Snow Lined Roadway

A quiet snow lined roadway.A bird singing on a telephone line.Footprints in the snow.A path I've not walked.Around another bend.The song drifts off,and a rabbit bounces its way.The trees have icicles.Now the world is cloaked in quiet,but for the crunch of my boots,and breathing.Heavy breathing from the cold.A few more bends.Back to what I know.Just a little longer,till fire welcomes me.

Winter's End

A steady drumbeat,as heavy raindrops,leave perfect round ripples,in a puddle.

Bundled tight,a cool breeze blows.The sun shines bright,through a part in the clouds.

Rain and sun,the start of early spring,in Oregon.It brings me cheer.

Warmer days,around the bend,as we approach,Winter’s end.

Those Days the Fire Raged

 When the fire came, it scared me.Teenager's, with fireworks, in a forest.One mile from our town. Smoke.A column blotted out the sky.Evacuation. Be ready they said.Two days, it spreads,I meet neighbors while watching,as trees turn crimson red.We leave our house for safety.An evacuation camp.

Family,cats, dogs and even the chickens.Days go by. Anxiety. Questions.Smoke leaves us blind for two,then we watch more ridges burn.Every one in sight, but town remains.Thank god for that,

we go home.A memory I'll never lose.Those days the fire raged.

The Demon

The knife draws across the skin,the pain blocks pain from deep within.Endorphin's rush into the brain.Am I crazy? Am I insane?

An addiction forms and I know,there’s no good place for this to go.But how to stop when my soul hurts so,I try to grasp I try to grow.

Loved ones help,and form a shield, for the briefest moments,I feel healed.

But in truth the desire still persists,the fight goes on, my brain insists.This demon may fight me, scar me and shake me,but I swear by god it will not break me.

The Shore of the Sea

Staring deep into the ocean blue,it is awesome power, that is true.

It makes me small, in such a good way.Such peace and power. Beautiful day.

I’d sail away to an unknown land,and grasp its foreign soil in my hand.

Immerse myself in sights new to me.In my sturdy boat, crossing the sea.

Then off to another land I’d go.Till there was no land I did not know.

After I’d come home, sit on the shore,and stare at the sea forevermore.

Screaming into the Hurricane

The angst gnaws at me,
but it drives me to create.
To try and share a beauty I see in words.
Then the doubt tries to tear it down.

Does anyone out there care?
Or am I wasting my time?
Is my vision in your mind,
or am I screaming into the hurricane?

So much noise, and chaos, and carnage.
The world is overwhelming.
But I want to be more,
to create scenes and inspire.

I write and write, and write again.
It helps to get the feelings out.
The feelings of doubt, of shame,
of never being good enough.

This poetry of mine.
An attempt to express so many things,

that can’t be put in to words.
Is it music to you or more wind?

I want you to see me,
to see the music that I see,
so I try to write,
and I hope that someone cares.

I'm constantly seeking the approval of my peers,
in hopes that it will make me complete,
despite knowing that it will not.
The struggle I face is inside me.

Despite the futility I try.

Screaming until my throat is dry.

Into that wind, that cacophony.

Into the hurricane.

It Comes for us All

It comes for us all.Dark and cold.Does it bring more?I do not know.

It comes for us all.Young and old.Does it know more?It will not show.

What lies in that abyss,of oblivion?Is there life?Is that the end?

Will we be led,to heaven?To torment?Or nothingness?

It comes for us all.We don’t know when.Leaving questions,without answers.

It comes for us all.So many ways.Violence. Accident’s.Cancer’s.

More ways,than I can count.This life is full,of uncertainty.

But how will it,come for me?The answer,I am scared to see.

Early Spring

 A river stretches, blanketed by fog.Like rolling hills,

white clouds float.The morning sun,caught in the mist.Clouds,

and blue rain showers.

The water is still,with little wind.The tiniest bit,of early spring.With it, rebirth.I welcome it.