Seated Here, My Mind Writes

Seated Here, My Mind Writes

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Aug 14, 2025
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Poetry
"Seated Here, My Mind Writes" is a deeply personal and poetic exploration of identity, emotional disconnection, and quiet resilience. Through reflective free verse, the speaker navigates feelings of loneliness, the complexity of human connection, and the slow, often painful process of self-discovery. The poem opens with a familiar truth: that no one can truly live alone. Yet despite this, the speaker describes the silent sadness of being surrounded by others while still feeling unseen. The narrative voice is gentle, introspective, and emotionally raw. It shifts from philosophical musings to vivid self-portraiture, describing the poet's features with metaphors rooted in nature and animals. These metaphors - a dandelion seed drifting on wind, panda ears, a "squeeshie" nose - blend humor and humility, drawing the reader into an intimate and unfiltered view of the self. A recurring theme in the poem is change - not as a neat process, but as something that stirs anxiety, causes internal conflict, and yet remains necessary. The speaker is caught in the tension between wanting stability and needing transformation. Like a chameleon or a caterpillar, she considers the shedding of skin - literal or emotional - as part of life's demand for growth. There is also an existential undercurrent: Would anyone notice if I disappeared? The speaker wonders how the world would respond to her absence - a reflection many quietly carry. It's a subtle cry for recognition, not in a dramatic sense, but in a human one - the need to matter, even quietly. The final lines reclaim agency. Despite uncertainty, the speaker sits, writes, and names her existence. In doing so, she transforms her reflection into expression. "Seated here, my mind writes" becomes both a declaration and a healing act. This poem speaks to anyone who has felt invisible, uncertain, or quietly hopeful - a soft anthem for surviving inward storms
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I had survived the first. That was then; this is now. The blindfold of so many pills slowly died away and first though my finger then my head, a passion, a hurt and a need filled me as every moment was consumed with words; every breath with wisps of ink. But they were not all captured and somewhere in the deep abyss of living, lies the unspoken, almost unfelt feelings of decades in months. This is the half-empty account off all those nights from December through into the new year and the end of March. ...I pains me to share it. But it also makes it just not my problem anymore and that is something I long for- freedom and peace. Please note that all grammatical and linguistic, as well as those in punctuation and spelling or placing of words were intentional. If you LIKE this and want me to write a commentary on each poem and picture (as in my previous collection Apfel), please show me in comments and votes :) PLEASE DO NOT COPY any of the poetry or pictures.

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