Tag Archives: Poems

To Help Keep the Poetry Going…

Normally, I reserve this blog only for all things poetry. And I promise there is more poetry on its way.

I’m sorry for this post, but it’s become necessary to do this, not just for my personal health, but because not addressing this issue will most certainly impact my life, and my ability to continue writing.

Due to an ongoing medical condition, I was forced to leave my job back in February. Up until June, I was hanging on by the skin of my teeth with the help of family and close friends. Now, I’m facing the possibility of losing my car — my only source of reliable transportation — if I don’t come up with at least $750 before 8/15.

To press home the point of what I’m up against, I thought I’d share something a little more graphic, since I gather most people might not understand how important it is I find a way to keep my car…

Here’s a photo of my left leg, from mid-shin down, taken earlier this evening. What you see is the damage still remaining 3 years after my immune system and disease tried to destroy my ability to walk completely, by eating away at the blood vessels, tissue, nerves and bone throughout my body — most visible in my feet.

HSP Scars Left Leg - 8-9-16

The Rheumatoid Arthritis is another symptom of the widespread autoimmune disease eating away at me. All of this limits my ability to walk to practically nothing, and requires I have transportation that doesn’t mean having to walk more than a handful of feet to get to it.

This is why it is so absolutely imperative I find the support I need to keep my vehicle. Without my car, I won’t be able to leave my house, and my ability to get medical treatment, medication, and basic necessities to life will disappear. If this happens, it won’t be long until I am unable to write at all, and the rest of the eventualities are too terrifying for me to even consider, at this point.

If you’re willing to help, you can do so on the Go Fund Me page below, where my friends and family have been contributing toward the goal of paying off my car and helping remove a stress that contributes to my continued illness.


Everyone who contributes can opt to receive special gifts, as well as complete repayment of the contributed amount, as soon as I possibly can. Just be sure to leave your name and address when you donate.

If you prefer not to donate via GoFundMe, you can e-mail me at esthermitchell(at)esthermitchell.com (replace “(at)” with @) for additional options to donate.

Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. If I can keep my car, and lower my stress, I can complete books faster, which means more for you to read.


“In Team”

~Esther Mitchell, 2014~

They say “There’s no I in team,”
As if that’s supposed to make it all right,
When they use you and spit you out,
A cog in a greed-driven machine of the 1%,
Who make their fortunes on the backs of the “team,”
Who are barely paying the rent.
They say “be a team player,”
As if you’re not already giving your all,
As if you don’t pour half your life,
The best and brightest years you have,
Into a job that tears your apart, body and soul,
Leaves you chewed up, spit out, and flushed down the drain,
All for a pittance that barely gets you by,
While the fat cats lounge in their ivory towers,
Doing nothing but collecting the sweat of your brow,
The metal of your blood,
The price of your soul.
No, there’s no “I” in “team,”
But then, there’s no “team” in “job,”
No “leader” in “teamwork,”
No “slave” in “career.”
Quit spouting worthless pep talks,
When you’ve not once put yourself in the trenches,
When you don’t provide a living wage, a caring benefit,
For the effort you demand,
Until you actually work,
For the exact same amount most do,
Don’t expect anyone to feel “part of the team,”
Or have any loyalty at all.

“The Hunt”

~Esther Mitchell, 2011~

On darkened wings,

And with a mournful cry,

I feel my soul sing,

As the Hunt goes riding by.

Pale visions in the darkness,

A shade within my mind,

I behold the spectre’s starkness,

And think it not unkind.

I’ve trod this road before,

Its dust still clings to me,

My labyrinth, and at its core,

Rests the source of all I’ll ever be.

While some might fear the Hunt,

Run in terror for their lives,

I find no fear in those haunting sounds,

As I run toward their cries.


~Esther Mitchell, 2003 ~


I know the faces of monsters,

That do not come creeping in the night,

Out of closets, from under beds,

With no purpose but to fright.

I know the faces of monsters,

That don’t hide from light of day,

They don’t creep, but they are cowards,

Who rip, and bleed, and prey.

I know the faces of monsters,

And they are also faces of men,

And boys who will never be men,

And with brutal torment,

Come at me again, and again, and again.

Monsters aren’t birthed from nightmares,

Nightmares are birthed from them,

To cling, like fingers wrapped around the throat,

Not letting screams out,

Not letting breath in.

Yes, monsters are very much real,

And every child knows this,

But some monsters are more real than others,

Some monsters, you can’t close your eyes tight,

And wish away into the night,


Not all monsters live in darkness,

Not all monsters are afraid of the light.