Hello everyone 🙂
I struggle with depression myself, I find myself drawn to poetry and writing, to find solace, to find comfort, to find solidarity, and a better understanding of my experiences—as well as the experiences of those who deal with depression in ways that don’t mirror mine at all…..
1. “IT WAS NOT DEATH, FOR I STOOD UP” …
It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down—
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos—crawl—
Nor Fire—for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool—
And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine—
As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some –
When everything that ticked—has stopped—
And Space stares—all around—
Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground—
But, most, like Chaos—Stopless—cool—
Without a Chance, or Spar—
Or even a Report of Land—
“THE FURY OF RAINSTORMS”….
The rain drums down like red ants,
each bouncing off my window.
The ants are in great pain
and they cry out as they hit
as if their little legs were only
stitched on and their heads pasted.
And oh they bring to mind the grave,
so humble, so willing to be beat upon
with its awful lettering and
the body lying underneath
without an umbrella.
Depression is boring, I think
and I would do better to make
some soup and light up the cave.
My thoughts on trying to write about peace and happiness…..and now it’s sadness….
I say.. to myself…. I’am a good blogger??…Am I writing something that’s meaningful..as I love poetry…such as love and happiness, and peace ✌🏼 to try and reach out to help others…😕💔 regards mental illness…as being a samaritan taking calls can at times be so overwhelming….😢
A trapped soul,
In her own deeds.
People walk past,
People skim over.
But they do not realize,
Her soul that has changed
Her life a tragic,
Her mind bruised.
But how much more
Can she bear if she only has so little.
A soul lost in sight,
A soul mixed in heights.
Depths of the stars,
Cannot foretell her future.
But she can only take so much,
Her wrists tell a story
of a damsel in distress.
A princess with her head held high
and tears in her dress.
All the frogs she’s kissed
in hopes of finding the one,
leaves her heart broken.
The blade has won.
She shuts herself in the tower
away from everyone else.
She rolls down her sleeves,
A barrier between truth and stealth.
She can be alone.
Alone is the worst place to be
for a girl haunted by memories.
Temptations come faster,
options become less.
When you’re alone,
No one knows you’re depressed.
Maybe we should stop teaching girls
That fairytales do come true.
Because there are no princesses.
Just girls who make it through.
Sorry guys…I write all the time…when I’m feeling complete sadness… but it’s some of my poetry I’m sharing with you all….♥️🥰…
It’s my inspiration to all…I’m taking a break from wordpress for a while but will be back soon..✌🏼…