There’s a secret place within
me, and long well I’ve known it.
A hidden, sheltered space where
light and shadow dance with my Muses.
Only here am I safe, if no Continue reading →
I had somewhat of a mental “funk” day yesterday. I don’t realty know why I felt that way, but I just felt so heavy of heart and thought. It led to something good, though.
The final line of this poem, I saw….somewhere, I’m not sure exactly where I read it now. But it festered as I ruminated all night at work, and voilà! It led to this:
succumbed to misery.
Entrapped by turmoil
of unknown vagary,
I escaped into slumber.
But I found only tainted repose,
dreams with torment embroiled.
Awake, I was yet cumbered
by nameless woes
which delighted my joy to defy.
But that was yesterday….
I lack the courage
To forsake this bondage
Confined by shame
Myself to blame
Scars I won’t expose
Once my pain’s ambrose
Now life’s great inhibitor
Leaving me embittered
Yet again, nothing too exciting. Obviously, my head is nowhere pleasant. Sorry. [UPDATE/EDIT] This was supposed to be a “shadorma” (which i originally spelled w an “n”). But i obviously forgot the syllable counts when i began to write. The second lines should be five syllables, not four. Apologies.
I don’t want
to feel like this
Back to bed,
let the darkness win again
the fight for my head.
just seems to be
Too much effort when none of
it even matters.
A Keatsian sonnet to be precise. Well, the rhyme scheme is at least (abcabdcabcdede). Mostly, aside from a couple awkward lines i struggled with (this is pretty much a first draft), it is in iambic pentameter, though i did divide it into four tercets and a couplet….
Suffocating under anxiety
so it seems, such a heavy load to bear;
chest compressed and shoulders bent – try to breathe.
There isn’t in me much of gaiety
for gloom appears to have my soul made lair;
light of sun those shadows rarely does pierce.
Deep, the darkness inside me starts to seethe
and boils up, overcomes sobriety;
so hope dwindles, surmounted by despair.
Midnight descending, my thoughts it ensheathes,
devouring, scouring, cruel and fierce;
overpowered, I’m weak, afraid to fight.
My mind divided, this is but a tierce
within; I’m unsure that there’s room for light.
NOTE: “tierce”, as I’ve used it, is an obsolete word (well, i suppose, more accurately, the definition for it that I’ve used is obsolete) meaning “a third part”.
Because i don’t foresee myself composing today. And besides, these fit my mood mostly, except for the last lines that are slightly more positive, hopeful, and forward-looking. Those three descriptors do not work right this moment…
From February 26, 2013
Captive forever, I am held
Hostage to ball and heavy chain,
My mind – my prison – confines me.
Depression forges dark links that
Shackle me to each of my fears,
Fettering me here, endlessly
Stationary, unable to
Move. I can fight if I want, but
‘Tis no use, for depression’s grip
Holds fast, constant, drags me quickly,
Under supervision of fear,
Back to my invisible cage.
Sometimes, when angry I grow, and
Weary, of such small enclosure,
Near delirium, I erupt
In frenzied rage that changes naught.
My perpetual torment: the
Life I desire lies beyond
Reach. Closer I cannot will it,
Nor wish it easier attained.
Fury misdirected and heat
Of wrath this chain won’t melt, nor ball
Crack from my bitterness frigid.
A life with depression and fear
Must be endured until strength and
Resiliency are trained. Then still
Will they follow, ever-present
As a shadow, haunt my steps; though
Now, their prison’s disempowered,
They remain leaden memories.
…when i miss a day, or when i let the abyss inside me win.
For yesterday, here’s one from February 12. This year.
Burning inside, forever
Running from wounds inescapable,
Overcome by haunted memory;
Kindled pain reignites
Endless visions of horror,
Negating forward progress.
Dread conquers and tramples,
Reaming soul, rending heart;
Every fiber of self – hollow.
Arising from blood and mud,
Marvelous, the Phoenix appears,
Soaring one more time.
They lurk in shadows,
waiting and watching,
fangs bared in silent snarl.
I know this, I feel it
in paranoid prickle
I cannot hide,
only anticipate the
traps and pitfalls of mind
(the constants of my journey
with bipolar, depression,
and anxiety). They
seem living entities with
which I always contend.
They know how to bide,
patiently waiting as they
watch for signs of
This is the never-ending
hunt, the forever-repeating
cycle that is my
My addition always
in reduction seems to end.
Negative joined with its like
can yield naught but subtraction.
Likewise, I become less when
gloom adjoins my thoughts.
From cation to anion, mood
shifts with life’s ebb and flow:
Take flight on positivity’s plumes
and fall to negativity’s snares.
Charged with energy, just to be drained;
despair, the anguished succubus within.
Vibrance turned grey as ash,
evidence of greatest deduction.