Briony Nicholls

The Psychologist - Poem by Briony Nicholls

Saw a psychologist today for the first time
But the cold damp weather dampened the room
Of heart-to-heart discussions. My voice permeated
Its air of uneasy silences and stale shadows that
Drone innumerable silent tensions and grief
About all the treachery on the outside that has been.

The psychologist is braced for all manner of bizarre storms -
Even for perfect ones if need be -
For it is her job (Lord help her sometimes) ,
To be like the seaside boulder on the beach, that is
Pounded endlessly each day by the ceaseless waves -
Now with an eaten away hole in its heart after all that has been.

The psychologist launched impeccable professional sympathy
To my neat arrangement of exotic psychological wares,
Before I couldn’t help puncturing her air with a sharp
“No! Perfection is now absolutely critical! ” rebuke.
The psychologist, stunned in splintering confusion,
Could only stare and stare at the strangely seated person

Who, in a colossal wave, began spinning and weaving
A whole cupboard of intricate intrigues out of which
Many ghosts emerged from long buried dead concerns
Complete with the old knives and forks that were
Once used to eat them. The psychologist could only stare and stare
At the catharsis in his swirling dance, who

Now a demonic black-caged panther was
Twitching and pacing angrily in his small cave
His yellow sallow eyes against black fur
Mesmerising the psychologist like a hypnotised bird
Into a whirlpool of strange tongues and strange intimations, until -
Time is finally up! And the psychologist snaps shut

To safety at last, quickly erasing her look of relief!
With his climactic sentence suddenly choked in,
The client is ushered out of the damp stale office
With the stolid hunch of a defeated baboon
His spirit crashing, falling as he is embraced and
Devoured by the patiently waiting steel-gray afternoon

Topic(s) of this poem: depression

Comments about The Psychologist by Briony Nicholls

  • Barry Middleton (4/9/2016 7:39:00 AM)

    Before retirement I was a mental health counselor. Your image of the psychologist as like the seaside boulder on the beach, that is Pounded endlessly each day by the ceaseless waves is perfect as is the entire poem. (Report) Reply

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  • Dr.tony Brahmin (3/28/2016 6:40:00 AM)

    conversation, feeling, depression, images, mind, thoughts, expressions, very fine poem.. thank you very much. tony (Report) Reply

  • (8/13/2015 5:07:00 PM)

    An incredibly deep and prolific experience behind the closed door of a psychologist! An amazing array of imagery, focusing on the feelings and conversation taking place. Can feel the pull of mind and heart going back and forth as the psychologist stared and stared. Fantastic expression being measured within the rhythm of the poem, every beat bringing us closer to the ending of the session. Just wonderful and mesmerizing meaning within your lines. Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn (Report) Reply

  • Lyn Paul (6/4/2015 5:05:00 PM)

    Expressed so well, could feel the dampened room.
    Never have I visited a Psychologist but Kinesiology I have visited and would highly recommend this amazing form but so natural of repairing the wounded. x
    (Report) Reply

  • Susan Lacovara (5/8/2014 7:26:00 PM)

    Incredible imagery splattered about, .messy and meaningful in a humanized heap! What a session! Applause to your prolific poem. PEACE and please keep your next appointment! ! (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 8, 2014

Poem Edited: Sunday, June 28, 2015

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