Poetry Blogs (2013, depression)
poemagraphic on I never lied in the rose garden. (Cummings and goings) (7 hours ago)
All my life I have been visited by a black dog,
Who brings dark thoughts of death and dying.
This is a coward’s escape in the light of day,
But no light penetrates the darkness I feel.
The decisions I make and the people I lead,
Who trust and respect the results I achieve,
The family I love and the life that I lead,
Make the challenge of now...
Wednesday 30th October 2013 7:50 pm
Tunnelling in the dirt below my feet
I've been digging here all week
carving this hollow so deep
today, I hit bone
This is heavier work than I imagined
surveyed the ground from beyond the fence
And we both agreed that this was right
but now the toil is breaking me apart
As a new day rises
I'm bawling in the shower
never knew I could feel this pain
with the taps turned up to ten
never knew this hurt was in me
Tuesday 17th September 2013 10:40 pm
Like a Viper in the Mind
It slithers chillingly inside the brain
The unfortunate one senses its growing presence
As it sinks its venom deep int o the subconscious
Making the bitterness taste sweeter
The soul becomes lost as the venom takes hold
Self loathing and resentment manifest in the poison
Until in desperation decisions are made
To seek help and self comf...
Sunday 1st September 2013 6:05 am
in a corner of the room
daylight pools its last ripples
and she stands alone
afraid to step onto the shadow
that creeps towards her
afraid of the sly shuffle sound
that drags itself across the floor
or the mewling voice
that whispers its fears
so that when she blinks
the orange light
and the room sh...
Saturday 3rd August 2013 1:16 pm
I look at them
they look at me
through glassy eyes
that never see
we’ve shared this carriage
hopes or fears
I swiftly pass
the guarded gate
and check my watch
in case I’m late
the blank faced guardsman
doesn’t click it
I side ...
Friday 19th July 2013 7:34 pm
Full rounded heart,
Eyes that are sore with weeping,
Dark like and arrow piercing,
And ever the hand is writing.
You draw yourself, so many new lines.
Role after role you sketch, and toss away.
Mind that is ever writing
My own hard epitaphs,
Blaming my eyes for weeping
Over dusty photographs.
The past is a well told tragedy
And you a...
Monday 13th May 2013 12:08 pm
A winter bite that
mocks the spring, pincers its cocoon.
A life supported?
Cease one's internal decay,
Even ice melts. Love's fluidity.
Thursday 11th April 2013 6:14 pm
Saint Stephen's tale
It's Friday, sweets from Mrs Smith
Degeneration X and anarchy
Frankie's words: two tables, four chairs, suspension.
Discovered passing the buck, and thus passed it.
Stole the show with Twenty-one Questions, four dancers, and a singer.
First girlfriend changed everything, "You're young, she has baggage - get rid..." … did...
Sunday 7th April 2013 3:01 pm
The down time creeps up like old Bolton smog
soaking into my flesh
and trickling black treacle
that thickens from within the mesh
of chaos, thoughts, decisions
crossroads and dead ends.
And before long the gloom of the down time
becomes regular time and time stands still.
When I’m up I smile and glow
Like the summer solstice
but when the do...
Wednesday 27th March 2013 5:32 pm
As the last drips of rum
slip from glass to lips
I feel the heartache
of pirates and poets.
The anchor is raised on a ship
setting sail for foreign shores,
whilst my glass is raised
and tipped once more.
An empty glass,
an empty bottle;
this is the heartache
of pirates and poets -
to feel the ebb and flow,
to be the empty vessel
Friday 1st March 2013 9:38 pm
A face of steel is easy
When hidden behind.
Lost in false hope,
Drowning under memories
That my shoulders cannot hold;
They buckle in sharp flaws.
Watch me break at dawn
And vanish into dust.
My soul entrenched
Under a cotton shroud,
Unable to rise.
I will never again stand
Time, the only healer,
And I am lost
In forgotten thoughts
As hopelessness ensnares.
And in the dyi...
Friday 1st February 2013 9:31 am
The curtains a cocoon
which I have outgrown
though I dare not venture out
my wings maimed
by an internal eternity.
Some days they open
as the sunlight shines
and snow falls
yet it remains a parallel world
a door to an unfamiliar universe
Even inside plates pile up
like a porcelain possum
Monday 21st January 2013 1:36 pm