Have you ever felt trapped inside a fortress built by someone else’s power?
I exist,
inside your harsh fortress;
the sun never shines on my face.
I am kept,
both chaste and majestic;
I’m a figure to be ridiculed.
I wonder,
will I escape from here;
to be rescued from this icy place.
—H, crying from the shadows
This poem follows a 3–6–9 syllabic structure – a form inspired by Nikola Tesla’s theory of energy, rhythm and repetition.
Within frost-slick walls a heart waits, its breath a fog of dread; serpents hiss and conscience bleeds until even daylight feels like iron bars.
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A free verse poem about the courage it takes to speak, and the loneliness when that courage falters. As voices shout and shame, one soul wonders what it would take to finally stand, speak, and survive.
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A searing prose poem about the agony of being labelled, studied and misunderstood. A cry for intimacy, not inquiry, for love over diagnosis.
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A soft, aching meditation on the paradox of pain and affection. This free verse confession walks the fine line between abuse and yearning, revealing how love and fear can echo through memory in equal measure.
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A blood-stained sonnet of abuse and survival, told beneath the Celtic moon. A cry from the dark, where no one listened, not even God.
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He gave me what my father never could—then tore it away in the night. Beneath his caress, bruises bloomed. His words bewitched the ghosts of my heart. In his embrace, I withered, unseen by the world.
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Tearful eyes searched the horizon for a mistake that never existed. Love was replaced, dreams scattered, and a heart ensnared by silence and cold retreat.
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Grown in filth without the warmth of nurture, this sorrowful bloom tells of roots strangled by deceit and veins longing for colour. A wilted soul sways in storms, aching for the tender promise of a rainbow.
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In this Tesla-inspired 3-6-9 poem, love turns from intoxicating to imprisoning. Bruises, both emotional and physical, tell the truth hidden behind honeyed words and silken lies.
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