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Poetry by William Tyler

December 31, 2017


Still Life


“Still-life”, as the term is used re Art,

Like a static photograph, is true to the thing,

In life. Thus, we say “There must be something”.

And unknowing things can be depicted, as

Part of life, by those who are knowing, in life.


It is all the Truth and just goes to show

What a remarkable thing that is.


The still-life is a triumph of realism,

But needs on knowing to appreciate it.

So, a moving picture is more true

To life, with movement; and still-life

May seem more like death.


Yet, one must understand that there are

THINGS to one’s pride, (hair, nails,

teeth and bones, for instance) that

may remain, after death. Helpfully,

Jesus put it that “The dead know not anything”.

And that to know the Truth is to be “set free”,

Because, I imagine, knowledge of the Truth

Gives understanding.


Whatever the things depicted in still-life,

They are still life!


To Ross C


Sickness leaves me much in need,

And you are friend indeed,

To be interested in my endeavours,

When boredom would stifle me.

You inspire by example,

I know I can always turn to you,

Which makes me glad of something in the living,

Glad to be your companion

On this journey of speed and twists.

You help allay life’s lonely fears.

We met as youths and for all the years

Our hearts are still the same.





At the heart of the earth is love, one feels:

But the earth, like all real things,

Casts its shadow. The spirits cast none.

As long as real things cast their shadows,

Someone is always in the dark.

Only the spirits move in perpetual light.





Happy and gay and proud as can be,

The best that can happen

Has happened to me!


My heart is awake to the wonder,

The wonder of someone to love.

My soul would rejoice to embrace here,

The one that I love from afar.

It’s true and it’s all that I live my life for,

The wonder of finding this wonderful love.


Could she but return my devotion

And love me as I adore here?

True life would begin with our heart-beats

And mutual joy would be ours.

It’s true, I would be living just to love here

And wondering why life’s the wonder of love.


What about self-love?


Poetry submissions on lived experience with mental illness are welcomed on an ongoing basis, so if you have always wanted to share your talent, now is the time to do so.

Send your poems through to either in the body of the email or in a MS Word document.


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