Mental Health
How are you?. Runner-Up in Say It Again Challenge. Top Story - July 2026.
How are you? they spill barely pronouncing the words proud of themselves for doing their part How are you? they mutter not out of interest but because the world has told them it’s impolite to talk about themselves before getting these words out of the way How are you? they read their compulsory line trusting you to honour the unwritten rule and answer correctly How are you? they mumble already hearing the "fine" in their minds any other answer a statistical improbability and a major inconvenience How are you? they ask already rehearsing the delivery of their own news in their heads How are you? "Oh me? I’m just a girl, wearing my smile like a borrowed coat. It suits me well, yet I can’t wait to take it off. How am I, you ask? I’m like a yellow birch leaf in November, still holding on. Mourning each and every sun ray I've ever taken for granted. You wanna know how I am? I’m like a cubed wrinkly potato floating in an under-seasoned protein-lacking soup you make two days before payday. I’m like the E in 'blue', like the B in 'doubt', and the fucking L in 'salmon'—still here and theoretically necessary, yet only paid attention to mistakenly." You hear your mind race. Your slight sigh goes unnoticed and you deliver your perfect "I’m fine." then add with a rehearsed, polished-to-perfection smile, "How are you ?"
By Cristal S.3 months ago in Poets
The Voices. Honorable Mention in Static Challenge.
The sound of what an itch feels like. The grinding of a rusty spike As it drags slowly 'cross my teeth To overwhelm the nerves beneath. It started intermittently Creeping inauspiciously And now the nagging metal rain Is firmly anchored in my brain. A constant, crackling overtone That rattles each and every bone And under the metallic hiss, Voices from some deep abyss. Warnings shouted, barely heard. Terror ringing in each word. Muted, cut off suddenly As I strive to hear the plea. Yet, their dire message has unfurled. Something comes, not of this world. Something with a heart pitch black Comes, and our cosmos will crack. I am no prophet, nor do I Understand the reasons why, But I must warn humanity Of what the static speaks to me.
By Dana Crandell3 months ago in Poets
Where the Dawn Found Me — A Poem About Overcoming Depression and Finding Hope
Author's Note: I wrote this modern inspirational poem to explore the journey of overcoming deep emotional pain, grief, and mental exhaustion. It serves as a reminder that healing is a daily choice and that the heart can survive its darkest seasons if we simply choose to hold on for another day.
By Tim Carmichael3 months ago in Poets
Static in the Skin. Winner in Static Challenge. Top Story - July 2026.
They glitched us and took away the behaviour, replacing it with colour distortion that frames us against the odds. This poem moves through static, misrecognition, and the noise that rises when identity beats behaviour.
By Caitlin Charlton3 months ago in Poets
Payout Haiku
''Paid''? Right...where is it? Not a dime deposited. Where is the money? Note: okay, some of you might be wondering what is on the mind of your favourite Canadian also-ran. I have been volunteering, teaching online, and I finally caved and asked for my earnings from Vocal...and they paid me. But Stripe still says I have to wait. I really hope this is because of the movement from one currency to another, but I won't hold my breath. I also discovered that a student will be on vacation for two weeks, so no extra money will be coming in for August. And three weeks to go before we begin regular college work.
By Kendall Defoe 3 months ago in Poets
The Smell of Burst Balloons
I don't recall how old I was Maybe that's a lie A clever line I just say To sound accidental anecdotal nostalgic notation - because - I feel well...I feel so damn old - We all do that, don't we? it can't just be me - But I recall that jolt that rush The surge of electricity as As my hands grip the rubber Full of breathy promise, And I rub the enlarged sphere Against my hair - Closing my eyes with pleasure, anticipating As the rubber balloon demands And then after just seconds It happens, gravity defeated - But is it really, well no, but to me A small nipper, knee high to a... ... You know - some kind of miracle, of science, unseen powers and laws dictating our movements and life - When I was young the need to do it always gripped at me Or, if I'm honest, when my height shot up I still felt that urge, but nothing stays The same can't stay the same - I stand on any day no particular day A Tuesday evening. A Thursday after dawn. Most likely a Saturday... - A Saturday after our wedding anniversary It was twenty-two years to the day Since those words you say when asked - But in truth again - I don't remember the day I remember the smell - Of burst balloons Of the promise balloons offer to rekindle something specific From my past And look at those still inflated ... Waiting And take the rubber and rub it Against my skin my hair or at least - At least what's left of it as I chase That buzz that lightning bolt charge - But as I desperately Rub the balloon against my old head It's never Ever quite the same - Like the first time you hear that song You know the one We all have one Lyrics and melodies Echo echo echo ... In the silence We find ourselves in - In our heads When we need it But it never sounds the same - Still magical, still transformative But without that original fire - While everyone goes about their lives - I'm just stood there, static - Static - noun definition Not moving, unchanged - Static
By Paul Stewart3 months ago in Poets
