I have been inspired (perhaps foolishly) by others who have stepped up and shared poems they have written. They are great!
Shortly after being diagnosed as mentally ill, I started to write (or scawl) verses. I could never get the rhyme down, but I did start to grasp the imagery. I filled up a “composition book.” I sincerely hope you will look kindly on these “mongrelized verses,” not judging too harshly.
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Spring
Young grass, a ferocious green that an artist could hardly grasp, dewy freshness and I resist a severe temptation to shed my shoes and walk into a place where I absorb a spring life into my being.
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Manic
Encountering a revved up edition of myself, I’m always moving in sky. Just like superman or a jaded circus performer shot out of his cannon. Gravity simply has lost its grip on me. I am a law breaker of the worst sort as I flit and flash about in this blue limen that I now rule.
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Wife
She captured me with her 5000 kilowatt smile big enough and bright enough to blaze my black and white world with just her glance. Her laugh takes me apart and I discover I have been completely dismantled. (After all, I have just beheld the eighth wonder of the world.) With feminine technicolor and an infrared awareness she sweeps me up into this place and my ears pop with a fresh sense of grace given to me.
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Ungrace Me
Ungrace me and then stand back as I implode, a million pieces of waste and ruin. All with a 20/200 vision of a heart that has suddenly lost its way into the hateful darkness. It is at this that an epiphany pushes on me– Jesus, with pierced hands He draws me home.
ybic, Bryan
Broken Believers 