Therapeutic crutch

Dear readers,

As I have said in previous updates, I have been suffering from insomnia which I have been trying a few different therapies to try and cure, such as hypnosis, linden leaf tea, warm milk with cinnamon, candles, chilled music, no coffee, no alcohol (maybe a little), less colesterol, breathing, stretching, shower before sleeping, massages, having a designated time for worrying, writing down everything on my mind, reading, less tv, more writing (explaining the recent constant splurge of blog updates), and also tablets. What a long sentence! My dear sister has sent me a lovely package of goodies and advice on sleeping. Pamela and her family have also been great.

Something I like to do is write poetry, which helps take a certain weight off my mind. It’s a bit personal but maybe some readers will identify with it. I wrote this in the last day or so. Hope you like it.

Therapeutic  Crutch

Soft kisses on my buzzing forehead,
A cool fondling hand on my heated chest,
Harmonic humming from a floating voice,
Tranquilising me, putting this abstruse angst to the test.
I feel I’m in vigilant hands,
Soaked in a loving liniment of spirit and care,
My nose inhales these calming aromas,
Igniting my chipped soul with a bolder flare.
A fresh river of blood is now running through my veins,
Low pressured but pulsing in high esteem,
Visions of green English gardens fill my mind,
And a tiny tidy cottage by a gentle stream.

But still it lurks around a corner,
Livid tears and I don’t know why,
Being awoken by raging cold fits,
Waving all my confidence goodbye.
Some say it’s my demons,
Others say religion is the key,
The doctor keeps querying my past,
Something in my conscious won’t let me be.
These feelings don’t stay for long,
But they need to be forcefully locked away,
I then let my mind float up an upward spiral,
Now I find myself in a nostalgic Cornish bay.
With strong white sails soaring high on a softly bumping sea,
I feel blue skies above me and the fairy sea salt caress my face,
Everything is so tangible even though I know it’s just a dream,
But I know I’m smiling in my sleep when I enter this happy hallucigenic place.

It makes me feel good,
That angelic light touch,
I’m able to lie in bed at ease,
With my therapeutic crutch.

I would just like to add an image my sister sent me to put on my wall. Maybe you could too.



About Nicholas Rogers

I am an English journalist/copywriter living in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, and I have been here since 2011. I originally came to work with Casa Alianza, which supports street kids and vulnerable youths. I then stayed on, after meeting Pamela Cruz Lozano, who calls me her adopted Catracho. I work freelance journalism and I have my own translation business. Why did I come here? For the challenge, to open my mind and get out of my comfort zone. I love literature and I've written a book with street kids. I write novels, short stories and poetry, all of which you will find on this blog, as well as a lot of information about Honduras. View all posts by Nicholas Rogers

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