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4.7k · Jun 2013
ADHD
Rosalind Hawkins Jun 2013
I can’t sit still,
Pacing round and round,
Feeling like running,
Mind slipping from one thought to another,
Can’t focus unless I’m distracted—
Does that make sense?
Too distracted—no focus now,
No control,
Now I’m ashamed,
Too many things to say,
Too little time,
Forgetting the simplest things
Within seconds.
“Why did I come here again?”
Oh, now I remember.
Never mind, it’s gone.

Still and silent,
My face a calm mask,
Stript of all personality.
Nothing to say,
No urgency to do
Anything.
Do what I’m told,
Have to stay on task,
Pay attention,
Can’t risk a slip,
No time for distractions now,
The medicine won’t allow
It.

Go to school,
No appetite,
Restlessness rising in the afternoon,
Do homework,
Go to bed,
Next morning,
Swallow the pills,
Start all over again.

Does anyone else feel this way?
My story of dealing with ADHD, focusing on the dual aspect of it: without the medicine, versus with the medicine. (No, it's not a drug abuse story.)
2.1k · May 2013
Carnivals & Rollercoasters
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
Up, down, all around,
Twirling, whirling, blurs of sound,
Din of colours, clashing loud,

Speed rushing,
Time pulling,
Air flowing,

Gliding upwards,
Sky so blue,
Flying downwards,
See you soon,

Laughter floating all around,
Scents dancing home from town,

Pink clouds sold on sticks,
Enchanted by magic tricks,

Music falling to the ground,
Happiness all around.
Might I say, without appearing too proud, that I am sincerely pleased with how this turned out?

Please leave good comments, with helpful, constructive criticism.
1.1k · May 2013
Indigo Sky
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
The stars in the sky,
Pinpoints of light,
Cold, hard,
Brilliant, bright,
Diamonds, fire,
They last forever,
The royal court,
Of the indigo sky,
Their queen, the moon,
Sometimes shy,
Sometimes bold,
Sometimes she hides,
But she is always there,
With her face so fair,
To watch o'er us,
Everywhere.
This poem was first posted under my AllPoetry.com account [username: birchstar97].
802 · May 2013
Fear
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
I feel so vulnerable,
I feel so blind,
A monster behind me,
Or is it in my mind?
Or is it just me?
Is this insanity?

Is there no escape?
Is this my cursed fate?
I feel hot breath on my neck's nape,
Death is all that I await,
Yet, it won't come,

So I must suffer,
And try to be tougher,
And hope to be free soon.
This poem was first posted on my AllPoetry.com account [username: birchstar97].
Inspired by this picture: http://akirakirai.deviantart.com/art/Fear-194527543?q=favby:artist17832/50311702&qo;=29
This image really sent me to a totally new place, emotionally. If you have any ideas for an additional stanza, please let me know. : ) Oh, and please comment with some constructive criticism!
657 · Jun 2013
Something Is Loose
Rosalind Hawkins Jun 2013
You knocked something loose inside myself,
Something hidden and hard to reach,

The day I met you, I found myself,
It must have been something in your speech,

You stood in front of the class, a picture of poise,
Your tone so refined, and gestures just right,

The moment you spoke met the death of other noise,
The ideas you conveyed were so bright,

They reached down into the deep pit of my soul,
Turning my darkness to light,

You changed me that day that you spoke to us all,
Changed me with your incredible insight,

Those words were not meant for me,
Though they seemed to be,

And I wish I could say just what was knocked loose,
Inside of my soul that very day,

But, truth is, I don't know,
But I'm bound to discover it, someday, some way,

And when I do, I'll tell you,
I'll tell him too,

And thank him for the words,
That he said that day.
A story about transformation and reflection within oneself.
653 · May 2013
One Love
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
One day
My heart did fix on you,
Surprised,
Blushing, hiding–

One month
I still did dote on you,
Silent,
Watching, waiting–

One year
Spent, "He's too good to be true,"
Still,
Hoping, praying–

One lifetime
I ne'er did forget you,
Steadfast,
Smiling, dying–

One eternity
Rewarded for being true,
Seraph,
Guarding, guiding–
I'm trying to come up with a new title for this poem. It was accepted in a contest, and is going to be published, and I need to give them permission to publish before June 5th. When I send them the permission form, I can make adjustments to the poem, and I want to change the title, because I'm not happy with it. If you have any ideas, please let me know.
611 · May 2013
Bitterness or Forgiveness?
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
Bitterness:
Harbouring a slight
Within one’s heart.

Forgiveness:
Covered up with white
Time to restart.
This was inspired by my own bitterness towards someone who is, to say the least, highly inconsiderate. I've been trying to forgive her for more than two years now, and it's still not working. I actually thought that I had forgiven her, at one point, but then she proved herself to be just as bad, if not worse, than she used to be. She's just one of the several reasons I'm not a huge fan of people . . .
603 · May 2013
Idea
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
If an idea
upon its genesis
goes
unspoken,
unwritten,
uncaptured,
unknown,
it will perish
in a puff of smoke
like water
in a summer’s drought.
526 · May 2013
I Love You, But . . .
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
I am surrounded by thorns,
They tear at my flesh,
And my love for that single rose,
Is my only light,

The monster's horns,
Gouge me, a creeping rash,
And heaven only knows,
My painful plight,

The stones' pointed starkness,
Suffocated by darkness,
No one can see,
That all these things are killing me,

That rose used to glow so bright,
But now it's light,
Is lost to the eternal night,

I wish that I could somehow break free,
It'd be better to feel nothing,
Than to feel this pain,

I wish that someone would see,
Something,
Of this deadly domain,

How long have I been here?
Encased in this cell,
Of thorns and darkness,
I can't even tell,
Time goes by so sluggishly,
I might as well,
Be in Hell,

Who's to say I'm not already there?
But I know I'm on Earth,
I'm still alive,
If this could be called living,

I choke on this air,
I have known no mirth,
Can I be revived?
No, this place is unforgiving,

Would it be easier to end it now?
Even if I could somehow,
Escape this place,
I'd never be able to face,
The world with its barbed lace,
The scars still marring my skin,
My self-control is wearing thin,
Scrabbling in the thorns and vines,
I grasp the handle of the knife,
Time to end my miserable life,
I plunge it deep, ready to part,
With this miserable existence,
Feel it embedded in my heart,
I whisper my last words to that rose,
Shining like the brightest star,
"My love, I am sorry, but,
Your love wasn't enough,
To keep me alive,"
The blood flows from the cut,
All I will leave behind is a scuff,
In the dirt,
In heaven shall I be revived.
This poem was first posted on my AllPoetry.com account [username: birchstar97]. This is marked as explicit because she commits suicide. And it's a pretty emo, depressing poem.
This is the picture I used as inspiration: http://img2.ranker.com/list_img/3703/301003/full/last-words-written-by-famous-people-in-their-suicide-notes.jpg?version=1312400270000
But I also drew inspiration from this one as well: http://livinginrecovery.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/war1.jpg?w=640
These picture prompts really sent me to a new place, emotionally. This is definitely one of the longest poems I've ever written, but I don't think it should have been any shorter. A lot of this poem is symbolic and I did draw also from personal experience for this, but I most definitely blew it out of proportion to make a poem like this. I hope you enjoyed it!
521 · May 2013
A Warped Perspective
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
He grabbed me from behind,
Gagged me so I couldn't scream,
He took what was rightfully mine,
Tied me so that he was supreme,
Then he left me lying there,
No food or water,
Just me and my despair,
Was I awaiting slaughter?
He came back the next night,
And then he did it again,
An agonizing rite,
In my mind, I vilified all men,
"If just one would act this way,
Then they all could,"
Is what I say,
Why he did this, I thought I understood:
Men are evil and with no self control,
They are selfish and cruel,
To gain his own pleasure was his only goal,
And even though he called me "his jewel,"
I knew it meant nothing,

When I was found,
When I was freed,
Nothing was ever the same for me,
My story did not astound,
The officials and police,
For it's not the first that they'd seen,
"Why don't you stop it?"
Was my demand,
They said that they couldn't,
They said that they can't,
They can't prevent it,
That made me frustrated,
And I blamed the men, for they're the ones who narrated,
This insane explanation,

But no one believed in my accusation,
They all thought I was crazy, so they locked me away,
Then they sent me some "help,"
However, they shouldn't have sent,
A male my way,
I tried to rid myself of the whelp,
He only wanted to supplement,
His bank account,
**** the man,
To him my story did I recount,
And my reasoning did I explain to him,
Day after day, he tried to change my mind,
And through this treatment grim,
Did I fume with undefined,
Rage and frustration,
Then one day I let it out,
I verbally lashed out at him,
I shouted at him,
I screamed at him,
Then I slapped him across the face,
All was silent,
He seemed stunned,
Then my mind began to race,
And I apologized for my violent,
Act against him and I asked,
For forgiveness,
And somehow,
I don't know how,
But in some way he,
Most candidly,
Forgave me,
He shrugged it away,
Said that he was fine,
It was okay,
He got up then,
And left me all alone,
So I lay awake,
On my bed all night long,
The next day he came back and when,
I saw the bruise I had left on his cheek ,
And heard his voice and its kind tone,
I hid my face in my hands,
My eyes filled with tears,
I broke down crying,
What was this creature who defied all my fears?
He was not a man,
Not as I knew them to be,
But maybe he,
Is an exception to my rule,
So when he sat beside me and asked me, "What's wrong?"
I looked up into his clear blue eyes,
And I lost control,
I grabbed his shoulders and kissed him,
I know it was on a whim,
But I wanted to see,
Just exactly how he,
Would react to that,
. . .
And that was that,
He really did love me back!
I told him that I only trusted him,
No other man could touch a single limb,
He laughed and said that was fine by him,

We got married shortly thereafter,
And we lived almost happily ever after,
Except that I never left the house,
And I never truly got over my fear,
I treated any other man like a louse,
But my love did I hold dear.
I wrote this at one in the morning. That's why it's so . . . weird. Originally posted on my AllPoetry.com account. [username: birchstar97] I marked this as explicit since it *is* a **** story.
(No, this is not the voice of experience, thank goodness!) For some absurd reason, this was actually a lot of fun to write! Especially the part where I vilify all men. That's not my honest opinion about men, but it was fun to write, anyway.  I know this is more of a story than a poem, and the meter and rhythm are pretty bad, but I don't really care, so don't bother telling me. I have no idea how this ended up happy. Maybe there really is an optimist way deep down inside me.  Or maybe I'm just a creepy sadist who needs help.
453 · May 2013
My Someone
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
I look to the sky tonight, My Love,
Tonight, I look to our star,
And on that star, I wish you goodnight,
For yes, I know who you are,

My Someone is no longer a mystery to me,
I know that my Someone is you,
But O, how I wish--if only you'd see,
That I am your Someone too.
The main inspiration for this poem is the song "Goodnight My Someone" from the play "The Music Man." This poem was originally on my account on AllPoetry.com [username: birchstar97]
400 · May 2013
Stained
Rosalind Hawkins May 2013
Dark without, hollow within,
Suffering for eternal sin,
Visions swim before my eyes,
All of it part of my demise;

Hands are numb, cannot feel,
And on my arms, the kiss of steel,
Wearing the red lace in shame,
Still keeping in mind, it’s all just a game;

The thrill of blood as it leaves my veins,
My only comfort, found in these pains,
The ruby silk tastes sweet,
As I lap up the crimson treat;

A light in the dark, an opening door,
A person I have seen before,
I can see his eyes through the gloom,
Shining like sapphires in the light of the moon;

He crouches beside me, tears standing in his eyes,
I lower my head and I start to cry,
He puts his arms around me, secure and strong,
And I know that that is where I belong;

He lifts me up and lays me on the bed,
He gently kisses my forehead,
Then he straightens up to leave,
But my fingers snag his sleeve;

“Please, don’t leave me here, alone,
I feel a chill down to my bone,
Put your arms around me tight,
And go to sleep with me tonight;”
100% fiction. No need to worry about my sanity . . . yet, anyway. Inspired by the poem "Final Goodbye..." by DarlingAngel0565: http://darlingangel0565.deviantart.com/art/Final-Goodbye-329766550 It's been a week or so since I've read it, so if it seems a bit too similar, I apologize. I really tried not to copy it! This is unfinished, so if you read this and liked it, check back in a few days to see if I've finished it. XD Thank you for reading this totally twisted poem of mine, and please don't worry about me.

— The End —