Naked Soul

By Petal Knee

This is third book written in the series of a walk through my life.
In this book I have found the courage to to write openly about my childhood abuse and subsequent mental breakdowns, the poems are in narrative form and have no hidden meanings. The reader will find many of them to be gritty with raw emotion.
My hope is that they will help the reader to work through depression and suicidal tendencies either of their own or with those they love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Oct 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514462799

Petal Knee

I am an ex white Rhodesian now known as Zimbabwean. Now sixty three years of age widowed and residing in London Uk. Despite all the war and terror I lived through in Africa, I pride myself on being not racist. My life for as long as I can remember has been traumatic. I am therefore unable to describe it here. It is within these pages you will learn my life. Take a walk with me.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Petal Knee.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/05/2015

Xlibris

800-056-3182

www.Xlibrispublishing.co.uk

723598

Contents

Anniversary

The Lucky Ones

Fears

Unrequited Love

Cancer

Wagon Ride

Alzheimer and Humanity

Drowning

Impending Storm

Quicksand

Do Not Weep

For Jacquie

Dear God

Lady Moon, Mr Black

Infinity

Thoughts

Baby

My Disability, Your Inability

The Slut and I

Round

True Beauty

Blades

Trust

Sat-Nag

Farmhand

Open-Door

Where No Sun Shines

Mother Spawn

A Child's Questions

A New Day Dawns

Agree to Disagree

Bipolar

Daughter

Death Watch

Death

Daybreak

Father's Gift

Filth

Goodbye, Caesar

Ian

Just Me

Lessons

Little Girl

Mr Feral

Phoenix

Rehab

Street People

Surprise

The Final Cut

The Rhino's Tears

Walls

Verbal Abuse

Who Is This Person

Would You?

Living Ghosts

You Just Don't Get It

Five Star

Mind over Matter

Old Lady

Dreams

Stingray

Friends

Warrior

Flashbacks

In the Blood

Misconception

For Darwin, the Cat

Thorns

Voices

Colours of My Life

Cheetah

Dark

My Shoes

Quandary

The Flickering Flame

Demonic Chameleons

Tantrum

Lady Killer

Grandpa's Slippers

Angel

Snap

What Is Love?

Political Agendas

Rest

Spliced

Hello, Hello

Mr Mirror

David (My Rock)

Life Sentence

In Brain Computer

Mustard Seeds

Living Putty

Bail Required

Cutting Edge

Dignity Denied

Butterfly

Expectations

Tiger Dreams

Alpha Cat

Fatal Mistake

Two Little Boys

Rope's End

The Craving

Stranger

Moonlight

Changeling

Chloe

Street Cat Dushi

Gizmo

Rosie

Rob

Jinx

Angus and Seamus

Ruby

The Simba Strut

Time to Go

Final Toast

The Life I Left Behind

Mr Fibromyalgia

Home from Home

Naked Soul

Night

Red

Siblings

Solace

Acknowledgements and thanks

FanStory poetry site

members for their patience and guidance

Katy Steed

for her unfailing encouragement and first edit

David Morisch

the man behind the camera at

Afterthoughts Photography

for allowing me freedom of choice and to utilise the beautiful

photograph on the front cover

Anniversary

Rob, my darling, when your body was cremated,

My heart was left shattered, totally decimated.

Every moment that exists I relive that traumatic night,

Watching your ragged breath as you lost the final fight.

You had softly asked me if I would stay very near

Throughout your last eight hours. I was right there, dear.

I sat crying, holding your limp and soft warm hand,

Trying so very hard to make you understand.

Watching helplessly as you lost your brave battle,

Hearing your final breath wheeze, falter, and rattle.

Forty-five years we loved, you still hold on to my heart.

I felt your pain, and I saw your sweet soul depart.

Half of me died on the night that I lost you

Here I now am, lonely, bewildered, and heartbroken too.

My heart no longer feels; it’s only a lifeless shell

Continuing to exist for me is just traumatic hell.

The Lucky Ones

For the lucky people

Who are basically happy,

Depression is not feeling sad.

It is a certainty of uncertainty

A sense of hopeless failure

An isolation from humanity

To which the brain reacts.

Brains express emotions;

That is just what they do.

Water running on my cheeks

Shows that something’s wrong.

Don’t ask me why I am sad

Or what the matter is

Like a toy without a battery,

My world has ceased to be.

Fears

Though curtains are drawn, there is some light

Highlighting to me it’s daytime, not dark night.

It is so beautiful outside, of that fact I am aware

While it’s true that I yearn badly to be out there,

Some kind of deep inner fear has overtaken me.

I am terrified of all the other people I would see.

When a telephone rings it creates such a panic

I can’t breathe; my mind is in a state of manic.

I hear a sound of knocking from my front door.

My heartbeat races, and my chest becomes sore.

Unexpectedly, without warning, I burst into tears.

It’s a culmination of so many unexplained fears.

Today I understand I have a visit to the doctor; to do

That means a detested wheelchair ride for me is due

Pushed like a child, I am caught helplessly in the glare

Of all the insensitive people who stop and they stare.

The carer tells me gently it’s a phobia and it is not true.

I have these very deep anxieties; I am not just like you.

‘Get counselling,’ I repeatedly hear everyone sigh and say.

They don’t realise it means yet another stranger today.

Illness makes my muscles ache, and my bones are sore.

My neck refuses to stay upright and straight any more.

Yes, I know I look healthy and my face colour is quite fine.

That is because you cannot see these illnesses of mine.

I am diagnosed with PTSD; I also have bi-polar, or so I am told.

Created from all abuses undergone by me from six years old.

Please don’t ask why I daily sit here and I consider suicide –

Because it’s so damned painful and terrifying to be outside.

Unrequited Love

She is surrounded by her crushed-up dreams.

All her trust for love has gone; it has dissipated.

Left alone, never to be loved at all so it seems.

Too many years of ridicule and being berated,

All humans require true love in order to survive.

Or, like a picked flower, they shrivel up and die.

A faded rose, not dead and not completely