Off my head, love and other excuses for poetry

By Julie Tsiricos

'This book covers the beginning and end of a close friendship. Some of these poems were very hard to write, but I used them as therapy. I hope that other people can relate to these poems as words they found hard to express themselves.' Julie Tsiricos

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398469280

Julie Tsiricos

The author of this book has been writing for about eight years now. She has bipolar and considers this to contribute to her style of writing and some of the subject matter. She treats writing as a form of therapy. She does not believe that poetry should have flowery words when simple and fewer words can express the same emotions. She also believes that this style of writing makes it more accessible to everyday people who would not normally read poetry as it has a bad name.

Book preview

3am

3am is the loneliest time,

When you wake up alone

And feel that you are the

Only person on the planet.

The dark suffocating, and

You pray sleep returns soon.

So you lie there trying not to think.

3am is when your problems

Are at their worst.

No distractions, just silence

As your unwanted companion.

The minutes crawl by

Ten times longer than normal.

Or so it seems.

Red neon numbers that you

Don’t want to see until morning.

Proving that you got through

Another night.

But then night always returns,

And 3am is waiting for you

Once again.

3am is your worst enemy,

It laughs as it conquers again.

Why does it exist? Nobody needs it.

Maybe only the fox who returns to eat

At that exact time.

It does not know that

I am here awake again.

Sometimes I wish I was that fox,

With no worries other than eating.

3am, the loneliest hour of the night

Has come to visit me again.

Will it ever leave? I fear not.

3am, hello once again.

Secrets

Secrets.

A sharing of hidden meaning

To one who you trust

Enough to tell.

And know that they will

Not reveal it to anyone.

Two people bound

By that secret.

Spoken words hanging

In the air,

Ready to be caught,

And cherished for a lifetime.

Like a favourite book

On a dusty shelf,

Never to be opened.

But you know that

It is still there.

Whispers of it within

A dream in your head.

But still you do not tell.

For it is like a feather

Plucked from the ground

And hidden in your pocket.

Only you knowing

It is there.

A secret in itself,

That you hold a secret

In your hand.

In Hope

You can be with someone,

And still be the loneliest

Person in the world.

You can laugh when

You are dying inside.

You can put on your mask

And remove it each night.

You can tell someone

That you love them,

And get no love

Back in return.

You can live your life

As best as you can,

And hope the next day

Brings joy instead of pain.

You can wish for a saviour

Who will change your life

As well as theirs,

And hope that day

Comes soon.

Love

Love.

Where does it come