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Poetry by Julia Hart

August 27, 2017

 

 

Nameless Poet

 

I’m an old ‘Girl’,

A faded pearl,

A broiler chook

Without a book

To my name.

 

Have tried and tried

In vain,

Have cried and cried

In pain.

Through tears

Throughout the years.

 

Have written poems

To fill a dozen tombs

Some doggerel,

Some beautiful,

                                               

But only god listens

And reads as a rule,

And I remain

Without a book

To my name.

 

 

 

 

                                                Rebel Without A Hope

 

                                                Sometimes I’m a rebel

                                                And sometimes I’m tame

                                                Sometimes I’m an extrovert

                                                And sometimes I’m shy

 

                                                I’ve been called a ‘pervert’

                                                A ‘psycho’, a ‘guy’

                                                A ‘guts’ and a ‘prostitute’

                                                Now, for god’s sake why?

 

                                                They think I’m a moron

                                                Dumb, deaf and blind

                                                I have to stay silent

                                                Around people of this kind

 

                                                I search for my future

                                                My man, my career

                                                Sometimes I think

                                                There’s no hope for me, dear

 

                                                I found a man once

                                                But he’s under the earth

                                                And of a suitable substitute

                                                There’s an absolute dearth

 

                                                Am I doomed to fly solo?

                                                Without hope, full of pain?

                                                Can I never see the sun shine again?

 

 

To have your poetry on your experiences with mental illness included on this site, send them to Nicci Wall at info@thisismyreality.com.au

 

 

 

 

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