Creative writing – Powell River Brain Injury Society https://braininjurysociety.com Promoting prevention, recovery, education, community awareness, and life beyond brain injury. Sat, 12 Dec 2020 19:55:41 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.7.1 https://braininjurysociety.com/wp-content/uploads/bis-logo-1-182x200.jpg Creative writing – Powell River Brain Injury Society https://braininjurysociety.com 32 32 How does it all work? A poem https://braininjurysociety.com/how-does-it-all-work-a-poem/ https://braininjurysociety.com/how-does-it-all-work-a-poem/#respond Mon, 15 Apr 2019 22:47:51 +0000 http://braininjurysociety.com/?p=28342 By: Dewar Boutilier Date: 4/11/19

My brain is tired it needs a rest;
it’s veered off the tracks trying to meet its quest.
It’s angry and sad, dark and confused,
as if the happiness I had has all been used.
Frontal lobes damaged, temporal lobes the same
and my cingulate gyrus no longer has its flame.
Short term memory has taken a walk,
with no chance left to turn back its clock.
Decision making poor at best,
just look at our predicaments and you can figure out the rest.
Focus on poetry I can do,
focusing on the rest I’ll leave to you.
Problem solving such a difficult thing,
my math skills gone leaving its sting.
Concentration jumped ship, gone forever,
will it return, I think not ever.
Emotional regulation I’m left with none
and worried each day of what I’ve done.
No arguing please it will upset me so,
on the verge of panic and I’d have to go.
My heart is out there so they say;
the problem is I can’t put it away.
Addictive behavior I know so well,
what its put me through I’d rather not tell.
Social skills abandoned me with the rest,
leaving me out there at what is now my best.
Day in and day out I say stupid things,
not knowing when to shut up, and I feel another sting.
Compulsive behavior I know so well,
take my hand from the stove before it starts to swell.
Oh I can’t do that the other guy is in the way,
obsessive thinking may win the day.
Talking and interrupting I know firsthand,
I do it constantly and it’s never planned.

]]> By: Dewar Boutilier Date: 4/11/19

My brain is tired it needs a rest;
it’s veered off the tracks trying to meet its quest.
It’s angry and sad, dark and confused,
as if the happiness I had has all been used.
Frontal lobes damaged, temporal lobes the same
and my cingulate gyrus no longer has its flame.
Short term memory has taken a walk,
with no chance left to turn back its clock.
Decision making poor at best,
just look at our predicaments and you can figure out the rest.
Focus on poetry I can do,
focusing on the rest I’ll leave to you.
Problem solving such a difficult thing,
my math skills gone leaving its sting.
Concentration jumped ship, gone forever,
will it return, I think not ever.
Emotional regulation I’m left with none
and worried each day of what I’ve done.
No arguing please it will upset me so,
on the verge of panic and I’d have to go.
My heart is out there so they say;
the problem is I can’t put it away.
Addictive behavior I know so well,
what its put me through I’d rather not tell.
Social skills abandoned me with the rest,
leaving me out there at what is now my best.
Day in and day out I say stupid things,
not knowing when to shut up, and I feel another sting.
Compulsive behavior I know so well,
take my hand from the stove before it starts to swell.
Oh I can’t do that the other guy is in the way,
obsessive thinking may win the day.
Talking and interrupting I know firsthand,
I do it constantly and it’s never planned.

]]> https://braininjurysociety.com/how-does-it-all-work-a-poem/feed/ 0 my dragon https://braininjurysociety.com/my-dragon/ Mon, 10 Jan 2011 17:50:06 +0000 http://braininjurysociety.com/?p=1996 She has no name; she has every name. She is un-nameable…
She is muscular & sleek; like a racehorse or a panther. Teeth, talons and wing spurs are curved and razor sharp; the gossamer membranes between her wing bones are untearable. Her colors are dark shades of red, green, blue & black. Metallic glimmers wax and wane with the cycles of the moon and the seasons.
When we are allies, she takes me to magical far-off places. Straddled on her back, we soar and rise and dip as the amazing landscape of our planets passes below us. Her strength is mine and together we vanquish marauders and assist those in need. Her breath of fire roasts my meals for the ultimate nourishment.
But sometimes she will turn on me with no provocation. She scorches and slices me then leaves me abandoned on a precipice in a desolate and ruined land. My struggle back to civilization can be long & tortuous.
I am learning that assistance is available at points along this exhausting trek; though the blindness resulting from her attacks can make it impossible to find.
At other times she sets me down gently in a comfortable and familiar forest grove then gracefully leaves for her solo escapades; perhaps migration for feeding & breeding? – it’s an unknowable mystery that resists investigation and is better left alone.
In this forest grove I may feast on nature’s bounty and rest in safety until it is time to venture onto one of the many pathways starts the next journey. Sometimes I will choose the well-beaten trails to populated locations. More and more often I take the road less traveled, occasionally cutting new paths to find the undiscovered places.
Both commonly- and lesser-used paths may turn mucky and have qualities of quicksand. One must divert or double-back to avoid the point of no return.
Or the surface may be composed of sharp rock that pains the feet and distracts the mind.
The soft mossy trails with a gently gurgling stream meandering alongside are the ones that make the heart sing, but as evening approaches, the singing is drowned out by the buzzing of mosquitoes; so I build a fire to keep them back; and, if I am lucky, the fire signals her to return and so we renew our ongoing reciprocation of joy and despair, power and pain, knowledge and blindness, and every other swing of the pendulum of this thing called life.

]]> She has no name; she has every name. She is un-nameable…
She is muscular & sleek; like a racehorse or a panther. Teeth, talons and wing spurs are curved and razor sharp; the gossamer membranes between her wing bones are untearable. Her colors are dark shades of red, green, blue & black. Metallic glimmers wax and wane with the cycles of the moon and the seasons.
When we are allies, she takes me to magical far-off places. Straddled on her back, we soar and rise and dip as the amazing landscape of our planets passes below us. Her strength is mine and together we vanquish marauders and assist those in need. Her breath of fire roasts my meals for the ultimate nourishment.
But sometimes she will turn on me with no provocation. She scorches and slices me then leaves me abandoned on a precipice in a desolate and ruined land. My struggle back to civilization can be long & tortuous.
I am learning that assistance is available at points along this exhausting trek; though the blindness resulting from her attacks can make it impossible to find.
At other times she sets me down gently in a comfortable and familiar forest grove then gracefully leaves for her solo escapades; perhaps migration for feeding & breeding? – it’s an unknowable mystery that resists investigation and is better left alone.
In this forest grove I may feast on nature’s bounty and rest in safety until it is time to venture onto one of the many pathways starts the next journey. Sometimes I will choose the well-beaten trails to populated locations. More and more often I take the road less traveled, occasionally cutting new paths to find the undiscovered places.
Both commonly- and lesser-used paths may turn mucky and have qualities of quicksand. One must divert or double-back to avoid the point of no return.
Or the surface may be composed of sharp rock that pains the feet and distracts the mind.
The soft mossy trails with a gently gurgling stream meandering alongside are the ones that make the heart sing, but as evening approaches, the singing is drowned out by the buzzing of mosquitoes; so I build a fire to keep them back; and, if I am lucky, the fire signals her to return and so we renew our ongoing reciprocation of joy and despair, power and pain, knowledge and blindness, and every other swing of the pendulum of this thing called life.

]]> when you appear… https://braininjurysociety.com/when-you-appear/ Mon, 10 Jan 2011 17:49:12 +0000 http://braininjurysociety.com/?p=1994 When you appear as an angel
Look at me now, losing my way
Could you ever kill the pain in my heart
Even though they say angels don’t kill?

]]> When you appear as an angel
Look at me now, losing my way
Could you ever kill the pain in my heart
Even though they say angels don’t kill?

]]> they dance… https://braininjurysociety.com/they-dance/ Mon, 10 Jan 2011 17:47:27 +0000 http://braininjurysociety.com/?p=1992 They dance in velvet darkness lost
Rise bleak winter fullmoon rise
Thee in sleep desire fullmoon light

]]> They dance in velvet darkness lost
Rise bleak winter fullmoon rise
Thee in sleep desire fullmoon light

]]>