Poetry Journal

poems by David T Douglas


a poem by David T Douglas
September 25, 2023
Waves and waves of sadness as the pandemic sets in
A playwright with no stages, what then?
Zoom plays it is, but no one attends
That’s when I learn I have no true friends

Waves and waves of pain in my leg and back
Time for bed, but of course sleep will lack
Electric shocks of variable intensity
Doctors are clueless, but prescriptions should cure me

Waves and waves of darkness engulf my head
I no longer care if I’m alive or dead
Why am I like this? I do not understand
I’ll do some research and get on the mend

Waves and waves of knowledge I learn of myself
Including ways sure to improve my health
Now it makes sense why I’m this way
A sensitive introvert who shows no emotion
A poker face with the heart of an ocean
It’s not my wheelchair that keeps others at bay
It’s my personality that pushes people away

Waves and waves of pain in my leg and back
Must be nighttime and my sleep will lack

Waves and waves of goodbyes never received
Leaving Texas after nine years, I am relieved
No one will miss me, no one cares
I’m just that dude who was in a wheelchair

Waves and waves of pain are at it again
Sometimes pain is my one and only friend
One more night without any sleep
Just another night in which I weep

Waves and waves of tears run down my face
I’ve grown accustomed to the salty taste
But it’s not sadness I feel today
I’m in a new town and feel goodness coming my way


a poem by David T Douglas
August 17, 2014
Sometimes I wonder if you’re still in this world
Are you encumbered, or on the couch curled?
A gift to my life, you, I will always remember
A rival to my heart, no one else a contender
We met not in person, which is a great shame
Perhaps if we did, you would’ve taken my name
Others may not believe how close we felt
You from the North, and me from the Bible Belt
Let them begrudge and spew and moan
You were my friend, when I felt all alone
Both inside and out, a beauty to behold
Unfortunately, our fates had not been foretold
Some truth withheld, no harm intended
Though, our relationship could not be mended
Many moons it took to cease my grieving
Finally I accepted, from my life, you leaving
We both made errors, no one’s at fault
I still hold your name in highest exalt
Were you a projection or were you real?
Does it even matter? I know how I feel
Overall, I want to thank you for helping me through
Some dark times in my life, made better by you

The Turtle Spirit

a poem by David T Douglas
March 6, 2011
The turtle is my spirit animal and it’s easy to tell
Scars from the world blemish my shell
A fondness for water is also a clue
Not just the liquid, the astrological too

I know what it’s like to be flipped on my back
And how hard it is to get back on track
My home will forever be found inside
It’s also the place I retreat and hide

My movements are always cautious and slow
And I find it best to go with the flow
That’s not to say I can’t make decisions
But I rely mostly on my intuitions

It’s my dreams I chase, however slowly
Even if the path is quite lonely
Sometimes I stumble, sometimes I fail
But faith in the heavens helps me prevail

A jade turtle I wear around my neck
An everyday reminder for my continual trek

How My Heart Functions

a poem by David T Douglas
February 22, 2011
There’s razor wire ’round my heart for protection
There’s also a lock, awaiting the right combination
One day the lock must surely open
Or is that my heart futilely hopin’?

The lock cannot be pried, picked, or sliced
It’s not a game, though you could be diced
What’s needed is a gentle hand with the right touch
But maybe that’s asking for too much

Apparently, loving me is a tireless struggle
And I’m not worth all the trouble

That’s okay, I’m used to it now
But I remember one time how
She professed her love and promised to stay
Then with another she did stray

Now my heart has been nicked and is bleeding
But it has hope and will keep on beating

Rare is this love, keep it covered. I need you to run to me, run to me, lover. Run until you feel your lungs bleeding.
“Run” | Hozier