Mental Health
The Blue Velvet Candlelight Club
Written, created, edited by Vicki Lawana Trusselli This story comes from my heart and soul. At of 28 I was majoring in Journalism and my at that time was to write human interests. I remember those times when I could feel at home in America. So, I wrote the Hollywood Nights in the 1970s. If you did not like the 70s so be it. Then it is my story from human experiences.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 10 months ago in Poets
The Weight of it all
The weight doesn’t arrive like a burden. It arrives like a verdict. There is no warning, no shift in atmosphere, no moment to prepare. One breath I am sinking, the next I am pinned — held down by something I can’t see, can’t name, can’t negotiate with. The ground doesn’t just catch me. It claims me.
By Elisa Wontorcik10 months ago in Poets
The Quiet Influence
The Quiet Influence An oracle on steadiness, softness, and returning to oneself Author’s Note This piece was written from a place of quiet integration rather than urgency—a moment when nothing needed to be solved, proven, or pushed through. I wrote it for those who are discovering that healing doesn’t always arrive as a breakthrough, but sometimes as a gentle settling into presence. If this feels anticlimactic, tender, or unexpectedly emotional, you’re not doing it wrong. You’re likely learning how to rest without disappearing—and how to let yourself be held without effort.
By Flower InBloom10 months ago in Poets
Five—One Grounding. Top Story - January 2026.
Five—Locked in a perpetual battle against my failing senses and reason, I fight to survive, to get through; I am afraid of... nothingandeverythingallatonce—...—my mouth is dry, and my muscles seize up... what can I see? I can see the birdcage and birds; I can see the watercolour my beautiful wife painted many years ago and unlocked her journey into art; I can see the empty mug of tea as it sits perilously on the arm of the sofa; how many is that now? Three down, two to go; I can also see a jackdaw on the roof of our neighbour's house across the road and a bookcase of potential—Five things you can see.
By Paul Stewart10 months ago in Poets
Mind underwater
The Mind Underwater The ground didn’t just stop me. It swallowed me. Impact wasn’t a moment — it was a breach. The brightness collapsed, the air thinned, and before I could brace, the world gave way beneath me. I didn’t land on the ground. I fell through it.
By Elisa Wontorcik10 months ago in Poets
