"counsellor" poems
I dwell in possibility.
- Emily Dickinson
I dwell in the possibilities birthed by the daily Immanuel
I dwell in the possibilities whispered by the wonderful Counsellor
I dwell in the possibilities wrought by the almightiest God
I dwell in the possibilities perpetuated by the everlasting Father
I dwell in the possibilities secured by the Prince of all peace makers
And I dwell with Him where all things have possibilities
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 5:41 AM UTC
Remember when you told me you loved me and that without me you had nothing?
Well now it looks like you have nothing but a crippling sense of self-importance and a surprising lack of guilt.
Remember when you asked me to give up my future; almost all my money, my plans, my friends, all for you. You demanded it. Threatened to lock me in your room to keep me from leaving.
Remember when I would say no to something you would make me feel like the worst person on earth? As if I had personally attacked you; that I should beg for your forgiveness, for your love. Your love was conditional: do what I say, give me what I want and I will show you affection. But what I gave you was unconditional, regardless of day, or night, or every text you responded to with “k”.
Remember when you would feel bad and make me feel bad too? All those cold nights sat on cold benches with you being cold towards me. I set myself on fire to keep you mildly warm. You just watched and asked me to do more for you.
Remember every second day you mentioned the word ‘Canada’ and said how much I had hurt you by following my dreams?
Remember when you said you didn’t want to see one of my closest friends again? Or that you didn’t like my parents who welcomed you into our home with open arms and warm smiles.
Remember when you told me being gay was a sin? That I’m going to hell?
Remember when I helped you write those ******* assignments?
What did you do for me?
I remember everything I did for you; all those lies and excuses I told to my friends, my family, myself just so I could make you happy. And what did you want? More.
More *** more time, more company, more affection, more help, more reassurance, more ******* therapy from me.
You took all my energy, my patience, my love and what happened? You wanted more.
You see at the end of the day you didn’t love me, you loved the way I made you feel. I treated you like a god. You treated me like a *** toy, a counsellor, an emotional punching bag.
I see you writing things now, making yourself out to be the victim of some cruel liar who betrayed your trust. I broke your heart once. You broke mine a hundred times and would have done it a hundred times more just to get what you wanted.
Life isn’t fair. Maybe you don’t deserve to feel how you do now but I didn’t deserve to go through what you put me through. Grow the **** up.
I hope you see what you did. I really don’t think you’ll ever understand.
I only see now because I have met someone who is everything you are not; loving, kind, supportive, a gentleman. I know what real love feels like now, not just the idea of it. It feels nothing like what you gave me.
You did so much damage to my self esteem. You made me feel like I had done some unimaginable horror by living my own life. But now I’m better. I realise you don’t deserve to breathe the same ******* air as me. Choke.
Move the **** on.
All you’ve got now is memories, but not true ones. Maybe I lied to you but at least I’m not lying to myself.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
In the multitude of counsellors; safety abounds,
But
ln the multitude of enemies as counsellors;
deceit abounds.
Counsellors whose heart studieth destruction with lips uttering mischief;
Enemies clothed with sheep clothings as friends;
Friends whose tongues uttereth words born in deception.
Counsellors whose mouth darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge;
Enemies made counsellors whose looks appeareth friendly,
Friends whose mouth draweth iniquity by cords of vanity.
Counsellors who utter counsels coated in corruption,
Friends whose mouth worseneth counsel by words without wisdom;
Enemies whose heart pondereth in destruction.
Counsellors whose counsel are coiled in deception,
Friends who by multitudes of words cause you to err;
Enemies whose mouth captivate tender hearts.
Counsellors whose counsel destroy the paths of relationships,
Friends whose conceit counsel to death;
Enemies being enslaved seek to enslave others.
Believe not every counsel neither inculcate every word,
........... They destroy the heart..........
Believe not every friend neither heed to multitudes of words,
........... They enslave the soul............
Believe not every counsellor neither seek counsels from multitudes;
.......... They captive the mind...........
Which counsel shall we inculcate?
Which counsellors shall we believe?
Which counsellors shall we seek?
Inculcate counsels proved by love,
Believe counsellors whose counsel are weighed by truth and peace;
Seek counsellors whose counsel are words of life.
Who shall our counsellors be?
Let counsellors who are genuine and experienced be our guide;
Let counsellors who are higher and honest be our refuge.
Hope you find counsellors whose counsels are candid;
for
lt takes honest counsellors to ensure your safety.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
Dear State Counsellor.
Once I saw you as an icon of morality.
A bastion of hope.
A ‘dancing peacock’ in a troubled world.
Some called you the ‘midwife of democracy’.
Others an ‘Oxford housewife’,
a peacock ready to show its eyes.
But now….
The Children, babies, women and men of the Rohingya
are butchered, ***** and murdered by your
soldiers as you read poetry to children.
And the rest of the world stands by waiting for
the Norwegians to take away your Nobel Peace Prize.
Another sense of justice, lost again.
The working hands of the Muslim men in Rakhine
are tied by the Buddhists, the lovers of peace.
Their guns gleaming and your army standing by.
“It wasn’t us” say the Generals
“It was the Buddhists”.
But of course we have seen this before.
At Srebrenica, Nanking, My Lai and Auschwitz,
until the gas came.
And the world stands by.
Another failure, another genocide.
Now, as your military load the death carts
and bury mothers next to their children.
The Buddhists place flowers on the mass graves.
And I call for you and your ‘men’
to be accountable for those burnt by the sun.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 9:18 PM UTC
The counsellors office has always been uneasy
and the chairs always too cold
always a small breeze with the windows
not even cracked open.
This was the newest patients second visit,
everything was casual,
routine questions,
just another average case
but then there was a sudden silence,
the patient became curious and fidgety,
the counsellor sat waiting, watching.
"uh, doc. I know this isn't your dance
or anything,
but do you feel that?"
It had gotten the slightest bit colder
but that was usual
in these 2 decade old buildings.
"feel what, kiddo?"
"That!"
the patient standing now,
was pointing to the door,
as the violent ghosts swooped in
attacking them both,
too much blood and two mangled bodies
on the floor,
the receptionist didn't even hear a scream.
With the next appointment,
the receptionist walked in
getting a mouthful
of that putrid metal-blood taste.
I guess even buildings have a tormenting past.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 10:22 AM UTC
In her previous life, my mother
must have been an architect.
She brought to each family occasion
her vision, her love of precision, her stability
- ensuring the family structure
was sustainable and capable
of longer-term development
- and we still bear her signature style.
In her previous life, I’m sure
my mother was a portrait painter
- able to take a fresh canvas,
such as mine and my sisters’,
and add layer upon layer
of colour, of texture, to portray
what she saw we would become
– each proudly bearing her inscription.
In her previous life, I expect
my mother was a pioneer
– not of paths yet travelled,
but of more frequented avenues,
boldly exploring the details and intersections
between friends and neighbours
helping us rediscover what we had in common
- each fresh bond bearing her seal.
In this life, my mother
was an endurance athlete, a gifted healer, a 5-star chef,
a respected teacher, a talented mediator, a wise counsellor,
an innovative financier, a diligent archivist, and our chief story-teller.
In this life, she was my mother.
Jun 19, 2022
Jun 19, 2022 at 3:02 PM UTC
-on a local beer at a local pub, or
another good reason to speak out as a poet
An angel in an apron offered me a drink.
"Here comes Eternal Youth," she said,
"it is meant to make you think."
While I drank, the world billowed like a sail.
Time went crazy, bladders appeared,
the world's front peeled off like a veil.
Heroes and gods alike were humbled.
Their faces aged, their bones crumbled,
the wind swept away what remained of them.
With them they took the light.
I stumbled in pitch black darkness
and man, from the deep I cried.
And then, suddenly, I knew:
my voice, that's me, I'm here!
I'm not too young to interfere!
I shouted and pushed up the curtain,
reflected light cut through the dark:
the waving sea, time to embark!
My angel again was in her counsellor's role.
"Now sail in song forever," she spoke,
"raise your voice, save your soul!"
I peered into the golden waves...
and found it was this magic potion,
that turned and turned in its majestic motion.
There is truth in wine but there's soul in beer;
and when it sends you spinning, sing, sing!
sing, so all the world can hear!
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
Every year on your birthday,
I make a sincere attempt..
To put into words what I feel..
To show you my content!
This year is definitely not different..
My love for you keeps growing...
Feelings overflow n emotions are in abundance...
But honestly, words are real scarce!
Yet, here I am my darling mommy....
Armed with a paper and a pen..
Trying to express how dear you are...
And that you are my everything!
My best friend, my secret keeper...
My counsellor..my teacher...
No words can express enough...
That you are my all rounder!
When days are blue and you are low,
Remember you are me and I am you...
Your strength is me...
And mine is definitely you!!
My beautiful mumma...
Flash that million dollar smile...
Because its your birthday...
And while writing this...I am all smiles..
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC
What is the greatest gift of all?
You can think of a lot of things
A house, a car, a mobile phone
Money, power, fame
Food, drinks, sweets
And I can go on and on
However, as you all know
All these are indicative
Of a materialistic state of mind
In my opinion, the greatest gift
That a human being can receive
Is none other than empathy
There is nothing quite as impactful
As putting yourself in the shoes of others
To show love, you need to show empathy
Imagine the struggles your loved ones go through
Every single day
In order to be successful
When a friend tells you her problems
Listen, not simply to provide solutions
But to understand her perspective
And it doesn't apply only to family and friends
It can apply to anyone
For instance, if you are a counsellor
You need to put yourself in your patient's shoes
And understand why he reacts the way he does
So that you can advise him suitably
If you are a doctor
You need to think the way your patient does
So that you can reassure her
Therefore, it is very important to be empathetic
Because you will then be doing your bit
To make the world a better place to live
Of course, it will not happen overnight
But slowly and steadily
The impact can be felt
However, not everyone is blessed with empathy
There are so many of us
Who think of only themselves
It may help them in the short term
However, they will not be able to find happiness
In the long run
What's the use of wealth or power
If you are not surrounded by people
Who will stick around
Even when the going gets tough?
Hence, as I've said before
The greatest gift
That a human being can receive
Is empathy
Full stop
Sep 19, 2022
Sep 19, 2022 at 1:24 PM UTC
Little girl, big brimmed hat,
alone, with suitcases, travelling to boarding school she sat.
Wanting to be embraced by loving arms,
reassuring tones, peaceful pungent breaths, she calms,
but, the war loomed outside,
and onwards she tried.
The constant Chameleon: hairdresser, interiors, reporter and healer,
now, the season of inner healing to transform into a counsellor.
But, it’s the true counsel she heeds,
to transform from the wounds that bleed.
May she hear from You, Emmanuel; the One who truly heals.
May You lovingly embrace and hold all she feels.
May the little girl grow up into the woman You imagined,
And may she bloom into a lush garden with seeds You've planted.
Jan 30, 2024
Jan 30, 2024 at 8:43 PM UTC
Poetry
is my counsellor
prose
my revelation
the unravelling
of who I am
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
Whisper her name into my ears
Show me just how close your body was to hers
Can you touch me like the doll her counsellor gave to her?
I'm begging for a taste of what your lover got
On Hands and knees was how you took her
As if I wouldn't feel the change
Smelling the euphoria of someone else on your skin
Your skin was my skin
I lived in you while you moved in me
Good god an angel swept us from each other
Because God isn't good
He didn't want love to outshine the stars
Love is the same let down for adults
As a child learning that star is a ginormous dead rock
I'm the rock and you're the sun
Threatening to burn me into oblivion
Make me molten like you
Turn me into fire the same way you did her
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
you believed me once. I was once
believed. of all the integrity's born
of cigarettes, there are none that
come close to the way the world
sunk like a shattered lillypad the
day we parted offices. offices. if
I could do it all over again, the rain
would be in space and the sun would
be what masks the wet. instead,
optimism demands my attention
like an angry vocational counsellor
(thankfully I ignored that job posting).
receipts, tissues, medication, torn envelopes,
iPhone, guitar, empty mug sticky stained
bottom and sticks of cancer- please tell me
there's a reason I should live to 100.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
say it again
how you need me
to make your decisions
is that how you see me
as your counsellor?
Not a mate or partner
or as someone who walked
by your side.
Someone you could
confide in
or just someone, behind
you could hide?
My skirt is certainly
volumous enough
My arms could hold
back a monster tide
with just a bucket
Take my advice
and spit on it
ground it beneath your heel
and yell how I'm not fit
to tell you how
I know you,
Own it
Take the shoe
and make it fit
I'm over it
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
3, 10, 11, 12, 13, 15, 17, 18 and now
AGE 3
please dad no
don’t hit my brother
don’t kick him out
stop throwing things dad
mom please stop
stop threatening him
stop screaming
please stop mom and dad
AGE 10
mom can’t leave
where is she going?
is she coming back?
no? what do you mean?
mom is sick?
how sick?
please don’t leave
goodbye mom
AGE 11
first hit
first call
child’s aid
i guess its my turn for the blame
stop hitting me dad
it hurts
AGE 12
first of many counsellor meetings
but this one
this one changed my life
i went from writing
suicide notes
to thank you notes
AGE 13
im not hungry
no thank you
i’m full
i need new clothes
smaller clothes
to fit the new body
that i never fed
AGE 15
go to physio therapy they said
it will help your back they said
one visit
and i walked out crying
****** harassment filled my head
with nightmares
and bad memories
i was felt up by someone
i knew nothing about
AGE 17
stop it
**** off
get a life
you’re just a stupid high school boy
oh ****
he touched me
he said things about me
inappropriate things
“sir, he’s been harassing me for months now”
AGE 18
stop
please stop
help
someone help
get off me
please
leave
go
stop
help
someone help
….
room went silent
but my tears were still streaming
down my face
as my ****** held my mouth shut
AND NOW
now i am in uni
now i have better friends
now i am safe
now i am happy
but ****
what a nightmare I've had
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
December 28th 2001 Istarted a new job
The specified criteria immense
The role involved challenging
The hours 24/7
For life
Payment far richer than gold or silver
Responsibilities include
Teacher , adviser ,playmate,nurse
Protector,counsellor,supporter,
Listener,Provider
My rewards unfold before me each passing day
You are .... The very essence of my exsistence
The fruits of all my labour and sacrifice
Your inner beauty reflects my heart
Your intelligence will be an asset to the next generation
Your laugh is infectious
Your thoughtfull ways touch my soul
You are loved and remembered by all you meet
As beautiful as a new day that dawns
My daughter
My inspiration........
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 3:34 PM UTC
Oh, how do you not worry?
One's sick and overseas,
One's in camp,
One's not replying,
One's out for a dinner,
One hasn't been replying since forever,
One doesn't ever talk...
Oh, the only comfort is that
He's not going but
Still
The thought of travelling is just
Horrifying...
What if I freak out during OBS?
What if I have no friends?
What if no one understands?
What if the counsellors see?
What if I get sent to the counsellor?
What if they all die?
I'd be so
[Alone.]
What if I really go mad?
What if I die before that?
What if I die tomorrow?
How do I tell someone I died
When I'm dead?
What if my friends die?
What if they're already dead so
They can't tell me?
Is that why they don't reply?
I'm not gonna have any friends.
I'm not gonna have any sleep.
I'm not gonna have anything.
I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead,
I'm going crazy, going crazy, going crazy.
Oh, how do you not
Worry?
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 8:49 AM UTC
It's a big sized classroom
And I'm out of place
I think a camera's like a microscope
Once it's in my way
I emailed my teacher
'Said I don't like my face
I don't like my mind
I just don't like myself these days
I like to write in bed,
It gets this anxiety off my chest
Its only 11 in the morning
And i'm tired and stressed
I'm balancing,
All my hopes and doubts
And all my friends have worries too
But they speak theirs out loud
I'm not a baker,
But a.. Decorator
I like to decorate messy thoughts with fairy lights, rhymes and paper
I'm not a counsellor
But a.. Listener
Oh could you listen to my new song whenever it'll suit ya...
Well tell me something, what do you like to do?
Where's your favourite spot,
In this world where I favourite you
In this lonely town, where i only want to be next to you
Oh did this just turn into a love poem as i turned down 5th avenue..
I like train rides too,
I'm overcoming my fear of that
I used to worry i'd get lost
But I always seem to get back on track.
Follow my heart, follow the paths..
Follow the stars, as they spell your name in CAP'S..
Is this really a heartbreak,
Or just a sharp paper cut?
Sometimes the only way to get through to me is by ripping the bandaid right off
You did nothing to hurt me
I'm just a writer so paper cuts..
They happen often,
But its not the blood that's the loss..
Are you in love?..
Wait, Should I really know?
Well all I can do is go on
Obliviously so..
Um, are you okay?
I think that's the better question..
It's such a big sized classroom,
Filled with such important lessons,
Now.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
There are quite a few people in this world
Who are special to me
In their own ways
But none, more than my parents
Especially my mother
Seeing as it was her
Who brought me to the world
In the first place
And raised me
With so much love and care
That I feel I am one of the luckiest sons
However, at the same time
Amma has ensured
That I am not spoilt or pampered
As often happens with many rich kids
On the other hand
She has always kept me grounded
Whenever I've gotten too ahead of myself
So, it is thanks to Amma
That I am able to maintain humility
In the face of success
Also, whenever my confidence has taken a beating
Especially at work
Amma has always been at the ready
With a few words of encouragement
And has never failed to remind me
That I've been in such situations earlier
And managed to turn things around
Amma is not only a wonderful parent
But also a great friend, mentor and counsellor
Rolled into one
I can go on and on about her
But I think that's all for today
Jul 24, 2022
Jul 24, 2022 at 12:08 PM UTC
[feb]
2020 was the year of discomfort and change
through a chain of spontaenous events or accidents
i started work as a prisons counsellor, with no experience to my name
in an unfamiliar sea of faces, setting and processes
i encountered foreign species called case concepts and case discussions
[apr]
although i loved what i did,
when the storm came 2 months into work
it felt like a struggle to breathe
alternating between
head over water
and water over head
lifebuoys were thrown at me
but in the cold and darkness
i found it hard to see
at the same time i started learning to climb
loving the challenge to the top
despite my fear of being high up the rocks
the climbs were accompanied by countless falls
and there were times i let my fear conquer it all
[dec]
after a year of discomfort and change
through waves of self-reflection and self-confrontation
climbing into and above myself after much pain
learning to savor the beauty between and within each complication
i'm slowly befriending the species of case concepts and case discussions
and though i know there is more that has yet to happen
and the climbs are still accompanied by countless falls
whether the highs or the lows, i've learned (and am still learning) to love it all
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 8:38 AM UTC
You've done it now missy.
You've got
The whole lot of us in
Deep deep ****
She knows doesn't she?
She knows
EVERYTHING
You're gonna get us
Straight to the counsellor
And when we do
I am NOT
Going to be
Friendly.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
****** violence isn’t a mistake, but it’s dealt with by an accident claims organisation.
ACC, you might think you’re right, but I disagree.
He did not trip and fall, that’s not an explanation.
****** abuse, for a while there, stole my ****** exploration.
I would go to a counsellor’s office and nervously drink herbal tea,
waiting to be seen, by ACC, an accident claims organisation.
They ask me my story, it’s quite the fixation.
It hurts for me to talk, you’re meant to help me.
A new stab in old wounds, is a poor medication.
They tell me they have to - ask about the ***********
they need to poke and **** me with questions of PTSD.
I need a mental injury, cos y’know, ACC is an accident claims organisation.
I tell them it hurts, it’s invasive. My frustration.
They tell me they’re sorry but it’s “necessary”.
I’m in pain and for what? A poor explanation.
ACC, we don’t deserve your mental mutilation,
You’re our only option, other counselling costs, we don’t have the money.
You’re meant to be a helpful organisation.
And hurting us to help us is a ****** explanation
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 5:52 AM UTC