Thread: Monsters Hiding in Your Skull (Short free-verse)

I haven't posted on the poetry section before, but I was wondering what the general reaction would be if I had this poem published. It is about how it can feel sometimes to have a severe problem with paranoia and hallucinations, and I'm curious as to what other people would think about it.




Monsters Hiding in Your Skull

Some people think it would be fun
To see something that isn’t there,
But when you can’t tell if something’s real
They’ll wait for you behind the trees.

The monsters in the closet
Grow fangs dripping with flesh.
The hands beneath the stairway
Become stronger than your knees.

When they’re hiding in the corner
They might whisper in your ear,
But you can’t listen to what they say
Or you won’t make it through the night.

Your brain can’t make the flowers bloom,
But they can die while you’re asleep.
Don’t tell me it’s all fun and games,
If you can make them go away.

"... but I was wondering what the general reaction would be if I had this poem published."

An interesting question, perhaps more interesting than the poem - it makes it sound as if you control the publishing process.

Haha nothing like that. I was considering writing another collection and having it all published together. I have a collection out there in my own book already

This could be a nice scary poem for children who like horror.

The monsters in the closet
Grow fangs dripping with flesh.

The word 'dripping' is used for fluid so feels inappropriate here. Perhaps grow fangs that tear on flesh?

The ending didn't fit for me

Don’t tell me it’s all fun and games,
If you can make them go away.

Otherwise, it was a nice read.

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No, I didn't self publish...that's not very nice. This poem isn't in my published book. I was writing it to try to express how crazy it feels sometimes, so it's not really written for a specific audience, I was just wondering how other people would feel about it.

This is my real published book:

http://www.amazon.com/Brighter-Side-...1981581&sr=8-1

Some people think it would be fun
To see something that isn’t there,
But when you can’t tell if something’s real
They’ll wait for you behind the trees.

This makes it sound like it's the people from the first line that are waiting behind the trees.
For me the rhythm is all over the place, perhaps you intended it, considering the subject matter, but look,

Some people think it would be fun
To see what is not there.
If I don't know if something’s real
It waits for you behind the trees.

I was so tempted to make that last line "It waits, it's always there" for the rhyme, but never mind. This avoids 'some people', 'something', 'something's' on consecutive lines. I feel it should be 'something' and 'it' or 'that'; or 'someone' and 'who'.

No, I didn't self publish...that's not very nice.

It might have been meant that way, but you don't get intonation in writing and it is very difficult to get poetry published, I would take it as a fair question until proved otherwise, then start a flame war. I really don't mean that, provocative comments are best simply ignored.

I will admit that it is understandable why someone would give this poem a hard time because I've kind of gotten out of poetry since the book was published in '09. I've been working on mostly prose lately and I wrote this during a paranoid episode I had a little while back, so it probably isn't my best work. I know I've written much better things, and I probably should have given it a little more thought before posting it. As for rhyming, I go pretty far out of my way to make sure it doesn't happen, haha. Not sure why it bothers me so much, but it drives me crazy.

Besides that, I think all writers tend to pick on one another, especially published ones.

I'm sorry about my first reply. I was a bit annoyed anyways (due to outside reasons) and perhaps gave you a rougher time than I should have. If it helps, I'll try reading your collection and see if I like it. I need to increase my horizons in poetry anyways.

On re-reading your poem, I find the insistence on an active and actual paranoia a strage route to take. Most of the poem sounds more like a very natural feeling I used to get when I was a bit younger and I had recurring nightmares about the little girl from the Ring. They really got to me, so when I had to make trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night, knowing that it was in that hallway which the nightmares would always take place, I always felt a fear similar to what is suggested in this poem. I, however, have not been able to put that into the correct words, in my own attempt at writing a poem about it, and have since lost touch with those experiences.

But what I was getting at is, even though I knew those nightmares weren't real, the images in them still haunted me. So the strength of something like schizophrenia is not necessary. The brain is a powerful tool even when it works correctly.

Just saying that "The Ring" gave you nightmares as a kid makes me feel old. I was at least a teenager when that came out. I guess they consider it more of a mental illness when you're over twenty-years-old and still feel like there are monsters hiding in the shadows.

My published collection doesn't have anything quite like this in it, but I could post a decent one here if you want to see it.

Oh, it didn't give me nightmares as a kid, it gave me nightmares from when I was 16 - 18, years after I'd even seen the movie. I'd be interested in anything you post, I will be lurking these boards quite often from now on, at least I plan to.

This is a poem that is a poem in my book, so it's somewhat old, but I've been told it's one of my better ones.


Upside-down Lullaby

Eyes cast down to smother my shame
With a hand on your chest to push you away.
A body like steel too heavy to move,
Unable to face my rejection.

A whimper seeps through my bloody lips
As I pry your arms from around my waist.
With a desperate gasp and frantic leap
I throw myself toward the door.

Your callused fingers grip my wrist
And jerk me back into my prison.
Ruthless chains with scarred knuckles
Trap me in this nightmare.

You can’t muffle my cries of fear
So you pull away in disgust.
Tonight I can’t handle the way you love me,
It’s just a few more bruises to explain away.

My mind is numb and my body is limp,
As I hit the floor like a tattered rag doll.
I trade a few minutes of terror for you to leave
And ignore your booming objection.

When the door slams shut you storm down the hall
And I’m left alone all beaten and bruised.
The room once hot from your unchecked rage
Is now as cold and empty as life before you.

My eyes sting with tears I didn’t dare let you see
As blood drips down my chin onto my sheets.
I hear you knock softly outside as you call my name,
And slowly rise to my feet.

I ignore the ache of another rough night
And reluctantly approach the door.
I doubt it’s the last time and it isn’t the first,
But the sorrow in your voice is blinding.

I swear to myself this time I’ll say no
And open the door with resolve in my heart.
But one look at your face warped with regret
And I fall into your arms again.