so, we're supposed to be creative?

[vibrant]

an interesting observation is that bipolar people are creative. apparently, handel wrote his messiah in manic state. so we have a lot of live up to. lol.

so if you write poetry, post it here. if you create visual crafts that you can scan, upload it here as well.

i wrote this when i was feeling mentally sick by not being able to sleep. i get so scared when i can't sleep and the poem will explain why


sleep, where art thou?

the night is old
and here am i,
still awake
at one in the morning

i know that without sleep
my mind falters,
my thoughts faint,
leaving me paralyzed
in a manic frenzy
which will in turn
throw me into depression
as though i fell down a flight of stairs

yet that unmade bed,
sheets all askew,
pillows peeking out,
lies as an unwelcoming fixture to my left

i know that whatever it contains
it isn't peaceful rest, but an agonizing wait;
i know that i'll just lie there
breathing, hurting, wishing, and praying
to fall asleep, to be rested, to stay sane

and it will happen
but in the meantime
i'll turn my head and watch
the neon red numbers of my clock
dance their way past two,
inch past three,
approaching four,
until i finally pull myself
out of from under those white sheets

— half a day later,
disappointed

 

[goldenviolet]

i love it!

thank you for this thread.

this is what i wrote when spiritual healling had finally reached my understanding.

A FOUNTAIN OF PEACE....​

satan told me, "dark is your home",​

and at one time i listened.​

God's word whispered in my ear...​

“live in me i'll set you free!”​

this time i believed.​

satan called me, "you sinner!”​

God's word gently said,​

“you've been set free”​

this time i remembered…​

i know who is the father of lies!​

“you sinned again and now you're mine!”​

satan danced around my head.​

God's word cut him sharp like a sword…​

i know i'm not his prisoner any more.​

looking past the pit of dispare,​

replaced by peace, it's no longer there.​

God stayed by me, and whispered in my heart,​

and when i began to listen…​

His wisdom i began to impart.​

satan can no longer talk to me,​

for i no longer listen.​

i know i'm not his prisoner any more.​

looking past the pit of dispare,​

it's no longer there…​

it's transformed by God's love…​

a fountain of peace…​

only the peace found in His care.​

 

[alaurie]

I took a collage by a fine art/arts and crafts shop Monday ...the owner liked it and told me to work some stuff up I don't have slides yet, will post some when I do.

 

[BohemianChris]

There is some correlation. Usually, bipolars are more creative when _off_ their medication. I was diagnosed at age 11 with bipolar I, however, my axis 1 diagnosis are now schizophrenia, paranoid type, and autism.

With best wishes,
Chris

 

[I'ddie4him]

I find that I am creative when I take my meds consistently.

I love to write poetry, work with oils and pastels, and even get creative with my welding and have made some interesting pieces just playing around.
We all have our own periods of time where we are creative and I think that it is best to just let the juices flow and go with the moment.
Some of us are manic, Some of us are low, But, We are ALWAYS creative in our own place and time.
Go with it and see what we can do.

 

[vibrant]

two words to understand these poems: nina simone

1.

so i sit here,
listening to the voice
of a long dead singer,
keeping the beat
with my big toe

“crawling just ain’t my style.
deep inside there are no regrets
but excuse me if i take
this to heart so it never
happens again”

2.

incandescent light reflects
poorly off the linoleum tile;
pink checked curtains hang,
stilled by a lack of wind,
yet their shadows hang,
waivering over my bed

3.

voices, disemboedied, drift
from the halls outside,
a note is held,
a key is pressed,
vibrations catch their breathes

(wrote them in the hospital. nothing better to do really)

 

[vibrant]

I find that I am creative when I take my meds consistently.

I love to write poetry, work with oils and pastels, and even get creative with my welding and have made some interesting pieces just playing around.
We all have our own periods of time where we are creative and I think that it is best to just let the juices flow and go with the moment.
Some of us are manic, Some of us are low, But, We are ALWAYS creative in our own place and time.
Go with it and see what we can do.

post some.

 

[alaurie]

Usually, bipolars are more creative when _off_ their medication.

That's a common misconception ...largely self-reported.

Anyhow, I think this thread is all about sharing how we are creative.

I'm especially interested in your creative outlets because of the bipolar and autism in my dad's side of the family. Do you have musical gifts?

 

[I'ddie4him]

post some.

I just looked for the last 2 I wrote back when my son was christened and I can't find them.
Give me a few days and I will post them when I find them.

 

[I'ddie4him]

That's a common misconception ...largely self-reported.

Anyhow, I think this thread is all about sharing how we are creative.

Yup

 

[wonderwaleye]

an interesting observation is that bipolar people are creative. apparently, handel wrote his messiah in manic state. so we have a lot of live up to. lol.

so if you write poetry, post it here. if you create visual crafts that you can scan, upload it here as well.

i wrote this when i was feeling mentally sick by not being able to sleep. i get so scared when i can't sleep and the poem will explain why


sleep, where art thou?

the night is old
and here am i,
still awake
at one in the morning

i know that without sleep
my mind falters,
my thoughts faint,
leaving me paralyzed
in a manic frenzy
which will in turn
throw me into depression
as though i fell down a flight of stairs

yet that unmade bed,
sheets all askew,
pillows peeking out,
lies as an unwelcoming fixture to my left

i know that whatever it contains
it isn't peaceful rest, but an agonizing wait;
i know that i'll just lie there
breathing, hurting, wishing, and praying
to fall asleep, to be rested, to stay sane

and it will happen
but in the meantime
i'll turn my head and watch
the neon red numbers of my clock
dance their way past two,
inch past three,
approaching four,
until i finally pull myself
out of from under those white sheets

— half a day later,
disappointed

Dear Vibrant and Golden violet

OHHHH THANK YOU for such wonderful posts. The poem's where really GREAT! If you keep posting them it might make folks want to become bipolar! ( just joking )

Maybe only a bipolar could really relate. I don't know. But one thing I know for sure is they sure mean a lot to me! Folks will really never know what it's like to be bipolar and the trials we've been through.

There's nothing like the lock down ward. There's an hour between tic and toc.

ONE THING WE NEED ALWAYS REMEMBER:


XEven though you can't see Him, GOD is there!O
( click on the X and move to the O ) ( then feel who is around you )

 

[BohemianChris]

That's a common misconception ...largely self-reported.

Anyhow, I think this thread is all about sharing how we are creative.

I'm especially interested in your creative outlets because of the bipolar and autism in my dad's side of the family. Do you have musical gifts?

Mmkay, considering people with bipolar are creative during their manic stages, you would find most creativity lies when not taking medicine, unless they are like my friend Maria who writes while depressed.

I am no longer diagnosed with bipolar - when I was 11 I was diagnosed with BP 1, then at 16, schizoaffective, bipolar type. Now, I have other MI's to list.

Anyways, I have a few musical talents, but I stopped playing. I just write now, and paint. Sometimes create puzzles.

With best wishes,
Chris

 

[BohemianChris]

Anyways, here's a poem I wrote:

Litany to Thunder



They say bad things to me,
they shout,
they want me to do it...

They look at me differently,
almost ignorant of myself around them,
without a cause they attack me
without a cause.

They don't have a reason to hate me
they don't have a reason to attack me,
they would have a reason to love me,
but they are blind
blind
blind

Blind trust,
I trust in them since I have nothing left,
they are there, always willing to talk
they won't leave me alone
ever.

Sometimes they just whisper
when they are not too upset
sometimes they sing with the ocean,
my dad is also among them
to calm them down
when they are too upset

The sound is monogamous as the waves
splashing into the shore
resting upon my feet
the indent of my little feet
resting in the sand as I listen to their commands

They are my Muse,
my friends sometimes,
friends aren't always kind.
They don't give me a rest and torture me
until I finish a poem
They are very strict,
they say they have to

Sometimes they whisper:
Become like me,
just a piece of dust in the cloud storm
swirling throughout the word,
catching it's next victim.

We are one another's victims
in this world,
while we should be friends
hug one another
a big big hug around the world!

I shrug and think "What if"
What if I was one of "them",
carefree and loving the world,
without you here to whisper or yell in my ear
every second of every damned day

I will be one of them one day
I will be light
I will be darkness
I will unite the poles
with a poem
just a poem
It will be the end
and the beginning
at the same time.