Poems by Brunus Edwardii ©

Poetry is very expressive and an outlet for all we feel and tried to forget. Brunus Edwardii finally able to give in to this expression, shares her poetry with us. I have known this writer for close to ten years.

Hello, My name is Brunus Edwardii. For those who don't know, that is Latin for Teddy bear and in England, they laughingly call it a disease!! This is a small collection of my poems.

As Emily has told you, we "met" nearly 10 years ago. I was a complete mess then. It has been a hard and long road for me to recovery and I still haven't quite mastered it, but I can now cope. Poetry has allowed me to TELL. You will notice in Blending that I say the words could not slip thru my lips.

After many years of therapy and medications, I can finally see myself as almost whole. Someone I never knew but someone that I like. I hope my expressions will help you to make your own.

Blending
by Brunus Edwardii © 2002

Years have come and gone.
A heavy coat of layers have muted my song.
Although in a crowd of many, I was all alone.
The crowd inside, the many, made me groan.

The writer, the one who has survived;
Has magic in her finger tips.
The words have flowed to keep me alive,
Never can the words slip through my lips.

With the pen in her hand,
The writer has laid her plan.
No one can stop the words that stand
And tell her story; ease her soul, her life's span.

Completeness is a scary word.
There have always been so many.
Silence in my head at last, not a sound to be heard.
The song of all in chorus, flow through my pen;
None missing, not any.

Just as a new born baby,
I am learning what the writer always knew.
The writer is me, all me; and just maybe
My life can now restart, whole and new.

BROKEN
Brunus Edwardii © 2002

Who am I here, all shields removed?
As the chore begins, it's chaos on the move.
So many pieces of the slivered glass;
Once a life, now a love that cannot last.

Where do I begin? Can these pieces heal?
An insurmountable task, now rises to the fore.
The pieces don't fit;
I fear they never will.
Will there be a time, a whole, anymore?

I am a broken china teapot
Fine Limoge, fragile, so beautiful, most pieces still there.
Some too minute to find their place; their life's lot.
Larger pieces stay intact so deepest emotions are spared.

I think I will stay this way, broken;
For ages of time, of such a day is never spoken
Over the eons, I have learned to cope,
But each morning, my prayer is for help and for hope.

Low Points
Brunus Edwardii © 2002

Such a taut rope;
The line between sanity and unreality.
Each day, I feel even harder, I must grope
Or die an ignominious death of disparity.

To all, but the discerning eye
I am ‘looking good’, ‘seem to be better’.
They don’t hear my nightly prayer to die.
I play the role of my life, to the letter.

I’ve been called a liar and a fool.
Perhaps, at times in my life, that I be.
No one but my God has looked into my soul;
Seen what lies beneath, has seen the real me.

An oxymoron is what I be.
On one hand, it is death that I desperately seek
I other grasps ferverently to a life I see.
But in these low points, it is relief of which I speak.

SOULMATES

Always, all my life
I've never wanted for a friend.
Mine were inside, but full of strife.
No time with others could I spend.

Closeness was not an option for me.
Touch would burn the skin, words searing the soul.
I was never bothered much, it kept me free.
My soul, full of scars, I knew I would not be whole.

So hard it has been for me
To let go of any parts.
I felt no one would love them, you see
To stay hidden, we felt was smart.

It took a while for us to connect,
Even though at first meeting we knew
One day, our friendship would unfold, only slower than what we expected it to.
But each time we met, our closeness ever grew.

So much alike inside we are,
But not so to the eye.
Red, the color, explains who you really are.
The color purple, the color of blood and hope, would answer the why of me.

Although through sadness, we both have come
When I need to laugh, to keep from crying
I know that all I need do is--phone
You make be smile without even trying.

I cannot speak for you, of feelings
You might have for me.
But your actions belie your love and are revealing
Your love is easy to see.

I really don't know what "Soulmates" are
But this I know for sure
A friend for me, I've traveled far
Our souls are one I am sure.

Jehovah, one day, looked down on us
He knew we were on the brink;
Our lives were fitful and full of STUFF
So he made for us a link.

A sister and friend forever.

THE DAY WE MET

The day we met. . . for me, not good.
I could barely raise my head.
I was dragged there and it was all I could
To do, was fight to stay in bed.

At first, against my will
I was taken to this PLACE!
A hospital they said, yet still,
It was just another escape from the rat race.

A woman, whom, in my mind, is nameless
Spoke to me with sympathy.
She understood my emptiness.
Why I looked at the world with apathy.

Next stop, was even more difficult.
Not one doctor could , then, see me.
Coming off alcohol . . .indeed my fault,
But medication was necessary.

The day we met . . .for me, not good.
I felt like I had lost a fight.
A life not worth living , from where I stood.
I saw no way to make it right.

But you showed me that I
Was worth more than mere spit.
It took time, patience, caring,
Trust beyond what my heart could fit.

I had a friend who died today.
But on the day we met
I wished only for a grave to lay
For myself, but this you could not let.

A lot of tears and pain have past,
A lot of things have changed.
I do know that my life would not last
If on trust you had not ever waged.

I told my spouse, just the other day,
Other than family and those in the faith,
You were the only one for whom I would stay.
You hold my heart in a caring way.

I can truthfully agree
Without you, I would not be
The love I feel , I could not bare
You taught me that I must share.

In only moments, we have sat
A time from month to month,
In only minutes, that we touch
The feelings I felt, on the day we met.

You never have EVER thought I lied.
You made me believe in me.
The pieces of my shattered mind,
You never questioned, you believed me.

On the day we met . . . for me, not good.
I was way more than you had bargained for.
A way to thank you, I wish I could
Find, for thankful words, I am torn.

I hope a hug each month will suffice
You helped me learn to pay the price
Of a shattered wounded soul
Your friendship is one I wish to hold.

HELLO . . . From the Depth of Madness
Brunus Edwardii © 2002

Oh, the long years, I tried to hold it together.
So many secrets, that my soul felt all sooty.
Mostly, just the feeling, and not knowing whether
I had something to reasonably make the filth, real.

I hung on to each strand of sanity;
To everything, that I thought was true.
I must admit, I had no dignity;
I was worthless and my person, unreal.

A few times, I almost lost my hold.
Funny, how those we love cannot admit
That there is something very wrong
All the while I acted strong and bold.

I started with the dreams, or so they were, I thought.
Horrible, unthinkable visions, to each slumber were brought.
I couldn't tell the dreams, couldn't believe myself.
But as time moved on, I knew, dreams they were not.

I also realized that not everyone, woke up in the grocery store.
Not everyone, had great gulfs between yesterday and today.
I began to realize, that all the torture, pain and gore
Were memories, scenes to no one could I relay.

Each morning when my eyes did open
I began to fear the things unremembered
How to cover them up, for a safe hold I did hope.
To fear and dread, I surrendered.

I don't remember what was the trigger
That took away all that was left and was sane.
Seems events in my life were much bigger
Than my heart could hold or claim.

Even in my madness, the parts that I let go
I was convincing to the outside world
How clever I was, or how I thought so.
But I felt like a dung heap, inside, I wanted to hurl.

It took a long time before the sanity of threads
Finally lost their hold and
Like the dam of my person which lay in this dungy bed
Broke loose, I was vacated, no one to hold my hand.

It took force physically, emotionally and mentally
By the one who loved me most
To break the bubble, we had blown so perfectly
Of sanity, now, I could not boast.

Once I finally let the last thread loose
I plummeted down so very far.
I had no use for life or love
I only cared to die, my life again to mar.

Then from the bowels of madness
I finally settled in and let go
Of any sanity and pride, now gladness
Was starting to find it's way through.

No more fronting, no more dark secrets
Only the torture of my heart
My inner beings, of which are still a part.
Letting go, to heal, was finally what was smart.

So HELLO. . . from the depths of madness.
Climbing the ladder, holding on to something real
Knowing one day, I will live in gladness.
The day I can say goodbye to madness and fear the future less.

My Mighty Ficus
Brunus Edwardii @2002

Each morning through my foggy head
As I was rising from my bed
I would search the landscape through
My kitchen door,for something true.

Each morning as I gazed and focused
My eye did catch the glimpse
Of a tender fig tree, the weeping ficus.
Each day, it grew stronger, and grander in it’s stance.

I watched one year as frost did kill
Many of my beauty’s limbs.
I hated so to shave them, still
Although frozen, they could not live.

But yet, the years did treat it well
And strength again reached every bough.
That was until, a cutting spell
Came like a shocking killer, still feel it even now.

My beauty fell like so much fodder
The cutter cried with glee
He tried to make it matter
So upset, I would not be.

One day, someone will know my inner heart
And how much that fig meant to me.
It was an anchor, with which I could not part
Until, the murder took it from me.

Pain, Secrecy, and Shame
Brunus Edwardii @2002

She hears his footsteps,
Knowing what this means.
She makes herself believe
It is only a dream.

Escaping the pain,
By creating others,
But feeling the guilt
They all have suffered.

She seeks his affection
The only love she has known.
The pain he inflicts
Seems rather miniscule.

She must enjoy it,
She shows no remorse.
She’s never resisted,
Yet he uses great force.

He vowed his love for her,
Said she was the only one.
She’s afraid she will lose him,
If anyone she told.

She lives in secrecy,
Feeling only the shame.
She’s never told anyone,
She knows she is to blame.

Warning -- Some people become distressed when reading or hearing graphic material. This poem is extremely graphic: Keep this in mind if read on. If you find that any of it causes you distress, stop reading.

The Barn
Brunus Edwardii © 2002

The old weatherworn boards of that door;
The door, forever emblazed in my mind.
“Quaint”, “charming”, say all but the poor
Whom have had the misfortune, its threshold to find.

The sweet smell of fresh mown hay,
Permeates the heavy summer air.
The darkness envelopes me in such a way
That I lose my breathe, when a wrenching hand yanks my hair.

The pleasing odor of the hay, now replaced by a stench;
My nostrils are filled will an odor that still makes me sick.
It is dark, so black I have only my sense of smell and touch of which
Stick in my craw; the “stank”, sweat, alcohol and chaw; then the stick.

Darkness, the “stank”, blinding fear meld into memories;
Blackness, heart pounding out of my chest; growling voices, and grown man giggles.
A trickle of something thick and sticky oozes down my face, this from the stick of pain.
Escape; no possibility, although I cried, screamed, and under great weight tried to wiggle.

I don’t know how many there were, these demons in the dark;
Two, I had met in the daylight, they made me feel dirty, there in the barn.
A young girl asking what a mule was for, laughing answers setting the stage
For the unspeakable acts perpetrated on innocence, in the dark; as though for a lark.

I went away that day, taking the shame and pain with me.
I do remember rays of the morning sun, beaming through the cracks
Of that charming and quaint barn; its secrets hidden away.
No one missed me; no one cared or tried to cover their tracks.

I stood in the shower for what seamed like hours,
My hair matted with blood, my small body battered and bruised.
For wince the pain came, of the barn and darkness, I had no remembrance.
That summer, I was whipped everyday, and took long hot showers.

I wet myself everyday, not knowing why;
Except that I knew deep in my heart
There were demons in the dark, in the barn,
In the outhouse, from around every corner I would shy.

For years, I would never enter a barn
For years, I would never enter an outhouse
Even now, at the sight of either, my heart does warn.
Of the demons and pain, in the dark’ the fear, and the shame.

I am safe now, in my body far from the barn;
Even in my dreams, I see the ugly toothless demons
Laughing and hurting me, in my head.
I am safe now, because now I know they are dead.

I feel sad because they ruined so many things for me
The beauty of the countryside, the true use of a mule
Eating biscuits with jam, the smell of new mowed hay.
The beauty of rustic settings, of farms with barns
And most of all, the lost innocence, has ruined everything in my life.