Whispers

@whispers615.bsky.social

382 Followers 309 Following

🌙 Mostly nocturnal poster of poetry Consumer of beautiful things 🪷 Liberal, neurodivergent, therapist, ally (ADHD, OCD) 💚 Unless noted, all poetry + photos are mine Let’s make the world more safe and beautiful together. https://linktr.ee/whispers615

Poem by @whispers615 that reads: Something Dappled light Moonlit droplets Knocking On my window As my words arrive There’s something here I need to know Something familiar A street lamp flickers A code I cannot detect A word brought forth Through light A message A meaning A call Just for me An answer I give And I wait
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: OAK TREE In every heart, there is a gentleness that can be reached Through great joy And great peace. In every ear, lives the stories and music it must have heard. In every soul, there is a power to bear witness to the lives of others. In every hand, there holds the energy to move mountains, to hold children’s hands, to wipe away tears, to play music deep into the candle light. In every body, lives a legacy, as the deep and dense as the oak grove. There is a thought of who I will be after my work ends.. But there is also a love that I will cherish always of the lives that I’ve touched, and who’ve touched mine— Of the souls that walk on paths in my prayers— that I send forth into the world with my hopes and joys. May my spirit be light to those saplings whose leaves are just budding And may my legacy be as tall as that oak tree.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: Why does Love fight like a fire for air Burning so intensely And when the asphyxiation takes hold We cling to life more dangerously than ever Through smoke and kindling and ash This kind of Love feels dangerous Turning trust into rage Turning song to sawdust Throwing openness onto the pile Just to stoke the intensity of retaliation And Love, changed, watches it all burn down
poem by @whispers615 that reads: In the loneliest of hills where I wait for nothing for no reason, I idle on watching the day pass. I cloud watch, I skip stones, I watch petals on water’s surface, and I learn nothing from turtles. I decide that I’m done with the waiting game. I dismantle my waiting office, succumb to my impishness, dancing on the grave of my former discomfort. And scream from afar, “So there!” As I frolic through the fields of tall grasses and yellow flowers.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: Thoughts like honey feel dull But my throat is sore from words like knives the moon is my sharpening stone Though I should be on my guard, Meant to hide away like a feral cat, I see the char on your face and wonder if I’ve felt the same burn.. but I could never take you in
A small ereader sits in front of a picture of a landscape. The words on the screen read: THE PREFACE The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal are and conceal the artist is art’s aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things. The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.
A tortoise shell tabby sits and stares at me with paws stretched out. Half her face is orange and half is black. She is nestled against my husband who is holding a game controller. She is content.
Photo posted by @whispers615: Man sitting on couch holding an Xbox controller. Cat can be seen in the background sleeping in a cat tree. The man (my husband) is dressed in his comfiest pants he has owned for years, and a grinch sweatshirt that he shamelessly loves all year round.
A picture of a paper bowl with fruit loops and milk illuminated by a flashlight with large stacks of cards depicted behind
Poem by @whispers615, titled “Minnesota,” that reads: Minnesota I am sad for me I am sad for you I am sad for your neighbors I am sad for your friends I am sad for your enemies I am sad for your parents I am sad for your children I am sad for your mother’s mother’s mother. The cries of whistles, shots, cries in the night. “What is your name,” “Stay inside,” “They are here.” I feel the protection, there is a shell over everything, and yet, we go missing... the stranger, the neighbor, the friend. Like pepper in the eye of the phone holder, I cannot see why this is happening to us. “All the world’s a stage,” The world is watching. Let us undo our forefathers’ work: Sans justice, sans rights, sans honor, “Sans everything”
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I gaze at Her in the mirror “at least it’s not really me” I reassure myself but as lean in a little closer I grow more and more unsure... Where do You stop and where do I begin?
Poem by @whispwrs615 that reads: Sometimes there are just no words for how a heart breaks how days turn into years of suffering and how my fear riddles me and cripples me into ignorant bliss. There is nothing to gain in this pit but I hope one day we will all see the sun
Poem by @Whispers615 that reads: There’s a word a grew up knowing: ubuntu (“I am because we are”). Aren’t we all connected at the end of the day? Don’t we all matter to each other? Our souls all have a sacred bond and responsibility to each other and the earth. So why can I feel the tightness in my chest, feel the stabbing of the thorns and feel the roaring of wind all around me? To hurt each other is to hurt the self
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: Shotgun shells found in abandoned cars across communities, in crowds, at your local store What I can’t explain is how I know it’s coming, the sound barrier break of my heart as we all bleed to death.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: Crashing into another year like an American who doesn’t know how to use roundabouts Trying desperately to circle around an unmissable mark getting tongue-tied, circles blind eyes star-crossed, dizzy and I don’t know where to turn Get me off this ride
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: And just like that, I’m the ‘Same Old Me’ (the mask that won’t set me free) what kind of cruel trick could this be I’m certainly smaller now, but sometimes I’m funny when all of my lights are out dazzling all my crowds cloudy heads, painted thoughts could have sworn that I blacked out It must have been the ‘Same Old Me’ again
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: In my search for safety, a place of recovery is what my body seeks. In my dilapidated den, deliveries in droves of memories of emotional freezing Trauma has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: What is it about a turn of the sun that makes everyone feral for change? For living their best life and for chasing down their wildest dreams? As light begins to adorn the earth and we intern also are born anew, I suppose it’s only natural that we too feel hashtag “new year new me”
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: In the night, I have a sense of you visiting me from time to time. When it’s time to say good night, I feel a gentle kiss and “I love you” three times the way you always did for us, your beloved.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: “Life is like a symphony,” “a box of chocolates” a big grand dream filled with miles of discovery and meaning and purpose and altruism and love, and confusion and pain, everything and nothing, experienced in just a few short years before it fades away from me matter into matter, “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” sunrise to sunset
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: To all out there who celebrate a new year, type A and oddballs alike- Here’s to a fresh start just for me and for you Moments, Intentions, Promises, Words poured out for myself, my life now and for my life to come. May it blossom and bloom as the tree my grandparents told me about that they once planted when they were young once
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: As I gaze upon the path unknown, I know not where the road shall lead. In turn, I wander on and on searching past the great divide. In light divine, I am contained and in water, I am washed away. Like a flower I bloom, cloaked in petal, and float on leaf and wave, grown from sun-sparked rays.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: Shrinking just a whisper now a bud of nothing, but a quiet voice asking “Am I good?” “Did I do the right thing?” “Are you proud of me?” asking into deep labored breaths that know not what to say and I who know not what to feel except for the everything of all of it. Is that good enough for you?
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: You are a fixture in my life I gaze upon you with reverence uncertain about the nature of life the true struggle it holds like Venice alight with fantasy and delight yet blind alleys send me sinking and all I can do is look to you
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: What kind of year have you survived? You’d think me thoughtful with all the thinking I’ve done this year, but it all feels like a hoax. Searching for reassurances in between obsessions, compulsions and avoidances, it’s never just a performance issue and it’s so much more than a simple fear; It’s the consequences and benevolence of change, the humiliation and humility, and its the beauty of trying again.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: Checking.. checking again. “Shoot, not again.” Scorning myself, iconic. Avoiding.. avoiding again. “Damn, I should have known.” A damage done, I know. Waiting..waiting again. “I should have learned this a long time ago.” Tides change and I wish I could too.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: A candle’s time is temporary Jumping and rattling by breath blown about Glowing straight through me, Sputtering and spattering fighting and raging against the darkness
Poem from @whispers615 that reads: Déjà vu- I have been here before. Do not patronize me, even Saturn’s rings would not be good enough for you. Logically, I know I have met my threshold, but there is something about the symmetry of overwhelm and might that is like a hanging bridge I’d like to stand in the middle and scream from. Déjà vu- I have been here before. My lungs gasping for air. Déjà vu- I have been here before.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: Happy Solstice  the deep dead winter, epiphany to light homesick for the warmth we have to share. Let’s fight through this our longest night and float into a year unknown.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: What is it about fire that brings about memories? I, the hermit, hold this lantern. I reminisce about times that seemed less bleak in my life, and oh how the mighty have fallen. I feel life’s ebb and flow, its acceleration, its flair- and I have gratitude to be in its flow.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I’ve been a ghost A meltdown with a hole in my heart, a cinched waist and thoughts that could kill like a knife. Living a precursor to a liberated life. I feel the glimmers of regret, the wilting fires in my chest and the ashes prove my productivity. Where do you go when your mind won’t leave you alone?
Poem written by @whispers615 that reads: I recall my jumpy speech, your examining eye, my dimming spirit. Each leader a surrogate, a new soil for fears to grow and I am oh so tired of weeding.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I wonder what kind of of Hallmark Christmas Movie would best describe the holidays this year: ‘a boho-ho harmonious family with mild mischief and a happy end’ Or ‘an unlikely hero, in a rut, in need of a cup of hot chocolate and a hug’
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: We are live! Tonight from studio 7, we bring you “It’s A Monotonous Gloomy Life” Everyone simmer down, gather your children round the tv set for this new galactic classic. Just wait until you see the glint of hope- Let me know when you find it!
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: The successor of Fall, must wear a heavy crown, brushing off the leaves and fallen snow. Winter is elated to invite rest to her kin, sending a whiff of brisk cold air into every space, weaseling in and granting peace, hibernation and light in the darkness. Sometimes, you can hear Winter’s song on the wind at night
poem by @whispers615 that reads: There are some days where I begin running out of things to say... an illicit feeling of antisocial peace, especially for a therapist like me perhaps an act of defiance I can afford is to use my PTO, drop all my empathy in the sink, let my carpet feel the weight of my body, each wisp of my hair falling out of place, and my soul as delicate as glass ornaments on a tree dashed with colored and white lights.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I wander, bewitched, my obsessions amiss a tin foil hat and a frog in my throat a land alight in black and white with just a tinge of grey cautiously reading the stars on my ceiling and traveling only by night
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: What consolation can be offered to a bemused, befuddled girl who unknowingly split from the right path, met a dead end down the rabbit hole and stretched herself so big and so small, that even her own artificial intelligence became confused and lost in a world all her own? I suppose nothing. Just leave her to sing in her patch of daisies..
poem by @whispers615 that reads: the weather vane lags and meanders as the wind speaks soft soliloquies and the rooster admires the aurora of morning sky truly it is enough to be alive
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I get this weird feeling in crowds, like my mouth is forming a rift between me and those around. My brain tells me that I’m being too much, too loud, too bombastic. But I’m not sure how to stop doing that when I’m having fun. I don’t think Blue, Magenta, or Steve could help me figure this out.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I am a sunflower spending my millennium long augury under the sun, looking for good, bright and beautiful things. I will remain vigorous, though I may be weathered during my search, for there is nothing more valiant than looking for ordinary wonderful things.
poem by @whispers615 that reads: In my wanderings without a destination in a vespertine suburb cul-de-sac, the tenderness of dusk and tulip poplar blooms became my refuge. Where my thoughts kept in cupboards and under floorboards, could pour out as a waterfall, painting the sky until it was time to walk home for dinner.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: Why can’t I act my age? Instead, I get scared, tuck into my shell, like a snail and commit to never coming out again. Instead, with a chivalrous hand and a smirk, you coax me out to be with you in the moment
poem by @whispers615 that reads: It started with a whisper-- an aphonic hum, then grew into a rapture. Time well spent, I presume, because this spark was the full package.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: This time around, things were different. Masks were dropped and things felt real. In the mirrors to the past, I saw reflections passionate, suave men who consulted with gods and saints, reflected on life, battled with demons, but did no such thing for me. Every particle of you would search for me, would fight for me, would shield me.
A poem by @whispers615 that reads: You are a world away. A man of the home, but obscured in walls of thorn. With your last breath blown like a dandelion confetti without a place to land, where will your optimism go? How will you spread seeds of joy past your mind’s eye? I wonder how deep a well you wish in and how many coins you have tossed in- a beggar, a lost man, a castaway.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I can feel the shakes in my hands, the headlights are blinding me as they illuminate all of my nervousness frozen, stuck, unable to solve my problems. Moving as slowly and silently as possible, I know that the only thing that matters is to make it through this. When they talk about healing, they say beautiful quotes on Pinterest, tattooed reassurances, getting kissed by starlight, and resting with yourself for a time. While yes that is true and I’m certified to say so, I also know that mental recovery has things that stick like Elmer’s glue on your hands when we were kids- picking away at something on me- something I can’t ever get off or touch or see. Am I doing it right, is it all just for attention, for show, just to prove I shed my skin like they asked me to? And in the end, I will never know. No amount of thinking will very help me know more.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: This year, I am thankful for what health I have left. I’m thankful for feeling connected to myself I’m thankful that the murmuration of starlings still makes a home near my house. This harmony is unmatched. But I am livid, when the real stories go untold, whitewashed-- Burned by the candle that blinked twice then ignited all at once. An omen, a divine rage, an incantation- is on its way.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I am still learning to prefer the whirlwind that first menaced me to the cliffs edge. With the taste of my first plunge fresh in my mouth, I felt ready for my second chance... After leaving the ledge’s end, I plummeted far and fast, before feathers and wind collide. Cheering myself on, I knew that I was meant to fulfill my dream. “Everyone deserves a chance to fly”
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: In the hush of my silent reflection on life, on happiness, on meaning... thinking about life with my partner ‘will we ever have the things we need?’ I catch myself with a reminder: life is not a race, joviality will find me when I need it, and the big man in the sky has a seat saved for me. I’m protected, I’m loved, and maybe that is all I need to know.
poem by @whispers615 that reads: I should have known by now how unclear this all would be. How valiant an effort it is to walk in stride with my stagger, I admire your well timed attempts. Isn’t it all so romantic? My adamant inattentiveness and you with your hunter’s mark. I’d write it all down in permanent marker, sealed in stone, in invisible ink and burned at midnight under a full moon. Isn’t it all so romantic?
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: My thoughts blew around like leaves in the wind, and felt as hard as the strongest foundation, and sounded as snakes and gaslighting liars, and connected as well as unraveled sweaters. I hope that’s all relevant and maybe made sense. I want to be understood as best as I can.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I can hear it all. The rhythm of us, the music of Earth the lyrics of life: A dog’s favorite tennis ball, old and sloppy whistling through the air as he dashes behind. The crash of a wave on the seashore and a giggly small child who’s never seen it before. An applause for us all for an achievable journey, smiling in self-esteem as the ovation fades. I hear it all. The rhythm of us, the music of Earth the lyrics of life.
Poem by @whispers615 that reads: I am tethered. A bird with no cage, hollow bones, free to fly, yet from acts of ferocity and barbarity, I find myself shackled and investing in barbed wire: What measurable length is needed to protect me? How much is my freedom really worth?
Poem that reads: I am free when I’m with Her. Repaired, forgiven, holy. The wind hears even my faintest whisper, my most specific prayers. Ivy league’s most educated minds may never understand our deep blue relationship. My Wind and Me.
Poem that reads: I am awake. My hypersomnic body does not know what to do with a mercurial mind. She bends for nothing, and I, on the defensive, can do nothing but watch. “What action could I take? What would you have me do?” “Nothing,” she whispers... “All pathways are dead ends.”
A drawing of Alice from Alice in Wonderland where she is large and can barely fit into the room. One arm is out the window. She crunches herself as small as possible to fit the space. Photo taken from Wikipedia page for Alice In Wonderland Syndrome