Contributor Posts

Oh, my Lord,
what a day.
Everything I do,
I am in the way.

My creative life
is now in the tank.
I try to write now
and everything is rank!
Phew!

Out the window,
over the door,
whomever it was,
don't live here no more.

I trip the light fantastic,
when I believe I can dance,
discovering my old muscles,
shouldn't try, no chance.

If I write you a letter,
would you still reply,
if you had feelings
for some other guy?

My sense of humor has
no bounds, so here is a
random writing.

Hit in the back
by a sack of rocks.
My oh my,
it rolled down my socks.

Author’s Note: As a nationally recognized expert on mental health and the proud owner of a doctor’s white medical jacket costume I bought on Amazon.com for a Halloween party a few years ago, I periodically share emails I receive from some of my patients in hopes it may shed light on an issue others may be grappling with. This is one of those letters.  More at View from the Bleachers ➜

In she walks,
an older woman,
probably born,
before I began.

Away I went,
engine a wail,
realizing not
I left a trail.

So, I was told,
to no avail,
to leave evidence,
of mental jail.

When I am gone,
left and not with you
Give the Devil his due,
and drink a brew.

When I get older
and I am King,
I will dress up,
wearing lots of Bling.

A muse about waiting to order breakfast when the cloak of
invisibility covers you.

I see you walk by
as you're going away.
Is this another time
when I turn invisible?

I left after waiting 20 minutes,
of being ignored, even when
the wait person was 5 feet away.
No greeting or acknowledgement
that I was present.