Dancing with Despair - A poet's journey through darkness

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by FoundAndLost1, Nov 20, 2006.

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  1. INTRO

    Dear readers,

    Out of sheer exasperation and desperation, I’ve put together a collection of some of the poems I’ve posted here. I’ve had them bound loosely into a book called ‘Dancing with Despair – A poet’s journey through darkness.’ I’m trying to make a ‘sticky’ out of them but it’s up to the mods. I’d very much appreciate any feedback and support as I decide whether to try to have it published. I’ll be posting them page by page as they would appear in the book. Right now, it’s all I have to live for… Thanks for you time

    FAL1 (G.P.)
  2. Witness

    What madness takes over,
    and inspires the poet
    to describe the journey
    into Hell
    Is it expression
    of the Human Condition,
    or words of warning
    “Do not tread here”…
    Or to state that
    another has been
    where you now stand,
    and you have a witness
    who has seen

  3. Witness

    What madness takes over,
    and inspires the poet
    to describe the journey
    into Hell
    Is it expression
    of the Human Condition,
    or words of warning
    “Do not tread here”…
    Or to state that
    another has been
    where you now stand,
    and you have a witness
    who has seen

  4. Breathe

    One more breath
    Make it through
    One more
    Let it be new
    And let it do
    from moment to moment
    its part
    in keeping your heart
    through the torment

  5. Forward

    The journey of Depression is one of bleakness and defeat, and one feels helpless on the twists and turns of the wayward path that leads into its dark labyrinth. It is a maze, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions that plumbs and devours strength of spirit and mind. It is a place where the platitudes of a society in denial are a bane, nothing but guilt-ridden anathemas which only add to the incessant suffering. And sometimes, anger at the denial all around is the only power one is left with. For Depression affects nearly 10% of the population, and everyone will at some time experience it, whether through grief, mental illness, a slow eroding of satisfaction with life, or through recurring traumatic events that lay siege on even the most stalwart of souls. I am one of the latter.

    I am a poet. I have written all of my life. On too many days, through my own journey here, it has seemed that words are all I had left. I am also an Empath, that is, I am ‘sensitive’ - I can find myself filling and walking within the shoes of others whether I wish it or not. It has been a blessing and a curse. I tend to be forthright in my expressions of the Human Condition, for the pain of it is all too real to me. Yes, there is love, and there is hope, but there are also many situations where there simply are no quick fixes. Sometimes none at all. Still, as I walk in the shoes of others, there can be a common denominator, a unity in knowing that sorrow, grief, and depression are things that others, who are forced to be open to it, who rally in the face of the devastation, and even may succumb, will find some familiarity, some fellowship in – and essentially realize that they are not quite as alone as they presumed. It is in this spirit that I offer my words, as I have all my days.

    I welcome you not to my particular journey, but to the reality of becoming lost in a life that is not only mysterious and wondrous, but complex and often daunting. We will, for the most part, at some time be vulnerable to the shadow side. And while at the end of these pages you may not find the remedy to the travails of the spirit, I offer you the magic of hopefully evocative words of one seeking to be known and understood – that the human art of communication is a reaching out, even from our darkest depths, and that one may bear witness to courage when there seems none left. If that is all the purpose that remains in me, if the reader is my witness, and I theirs, then perhaps I am fulfilled.

    iii ​
    Last edited: Nov 20, 2006
  6. Dancing with Despair

    * * *

    ~ A poet's journey through darkness ~
  7. Remains

    What is gone is gone,
    and yet it still lives on
    This, this is the mystery
    This, drowns the soul,
    yet leaves it so thirsty
    for want of knowing
    what became of “when”
    What happened between now and then;
    When all has failed
    and the soul has railed against
    The Impossible
    What is left?

    Last edited: Nov 20, 2006
  8. Waking Blind

    Losing purpose and meaning
    is no small death
    It is the blade
    severing Will and Reason
    from what moves one
    through the world
    Lost and floundering,
    breaking on the shores of doubt
    of self-worth
    It is seeing the stark and cold
    of all that’s been done
    And nothing matters
    but the pain,
    spirit breaking,
    hope taken,
    the only constant
    The merciless, endless slide
    into perpetual twilight inside
    Dimming sight,
    waking blind,
    wanting to hide,
    or die

    Last edited: Nov 20, 2006
  9. Questions for a Guru

    "In your heart, in your soul, did you find peace there..."
    - Loreena McKinnett, from Full Circle
    Dark Night of The Soul

    Enter The Dark Night of The Soul
    It is said to be part of the path,
    that what was once shown becomes unknown,
    and the endless depths
    a release to falling,
    to be stripped of all
    but the inner calling;
    The purest of pleas
    which goes unheard
    The greatest of needs to be fulfilled
    To remember when ache of heart and spirit were stilled
    by the knowledge of a God perceived,
    of Love and Light, and purpose in all things,
    more surely known than merely believed,
    when the hum of The Universe itself would sing
    To lose all of this,
    to be torn from this holy bliss
    and peace,
    for such a soul
    there is no ease
    It is woe, madness, and hell
    It is to drink from a poisoned well
    It is bleakest despair,
    breathing fouled air
    when once all was whole and fair
    And looking around, within, and everywhere,
    the echo of a cry goes on
    for relief,
    to rest once more
    in blessed belief
    that all is meant to be ~
    yet I,
    I can no longer see
    Yes, endless is the night
    when stolen is such precious sight...

  10. II

    answer me this
    I, not the only one to question
    what happens to bliss,
    faded or stolen or
    blown away by all four winds
    of life
    through far too much struggle and strife
    Overwhelmed, over-burdened
    Guru, wise one
    Your faith is strong
    But what happens to one who for so long
    made and kept their own peace with all that is
    through joy and sorrow;
    Who found a blessed place
    in past todays as all tomorrows
    Once certain of
    the risen curtain, the veil lifted,
    shown compassion and wisdom, gifted,
    marking the path to the inner kingdom
    Where does Heaven go ~
    I wonder
    Do you know?
    Do not think I challenge you,
    for what you now know,
    I once knew
    Yet in my place,
    what would you do?

  11. III

    True wisdom

    You do not know my circumstance
    Nor do you know how hard I’ve danced
    to tunes that were not of my calling
    Once strong, to find myself falling, endlessly,
    while the song in my own heart,
    died without mercy
    I who knew spirit and life,
    who knew the kingdom is inside,
    and our own worth is love of self
    honouring small births and deaths;
    I held these gifts innately, firm
    through bitter truths as kindly words
    I only wanted to be heard
    It is good to argue with the wise
    and wait to open both our eyes
    for both of us have much to learn;
    True wisdom is not found, but earned

  12. Alone

    Lonely is a place
    of undying echoes,
    where anguish is crying to be heard
    yet all I hear are my own words,
    scorning my soul
    with each refrain ~
    Alone, as I slowly forget my name,
    trapped in this moment
    that will not cease,
    I beg for my release
    but only these echoes remain,
    left to send to
    And even God does not care
    but mocks me in my grief,
    cursing all my past belief.
    For torturing me in all my hope,
    instead I only learn
    this despair I have not earned
    is now all that I may own
    No, not even sighs escape
    this damnable place ~
    I am alone…

  13. When Angels Fall

    Thrust of spirit
    meeting only the void
    Trust in purpose,
    and faith, all spoiled
    Having seen Heaven
    and knowing peace,
    losing their wings,
    fallen from grace
    Love, for love,
    was all once done
    Strength through all
    that now had come
    disappeared, eroded
    Instead of hope,
    only foreboding
    Remembering the warmth of light
    Cherishing the blessed sight
    and knowing that they once belonged
    Yet all holy comfort once longed for,
    and sated
    turns to cries of anguish
    for these so fated;
    The soul now famished,
    once full
    Praying for the calm
    within the storm never-ending
    Seeking balm from suffering
    but the doors
    are shut closed
    angels falling all around,
    in weary defeat,
    silently tumbling to the ground
    Angels, weeping,
    with no solace to be found…

  14. theleastofthese

    theleastofthese SF Friend Staff Alumni

    I like 'em, if my opinion counts for anything!:wink: :smile:

    love and hugs,

  15. Outlander

    Shrinking in shame
    Bleeding and beaten
    but by self-flagellation
    In this state, I hear
    no call for forgiveness
    but only more punishment
    Yet for what sin
    must this be inflicted
    What transgression
    have I’ve committed,
    other than having been true to myself ~
    While the world is capricious
    I take my being to task,
    wounding while wounded
    because I did not kindly ask
    to fit in...

  16. Fragile

    Feather in the wind,
    lost in whirling current of air,
    carried on to who knows where
    Hapless seed that searches for home
    Heart and body aching past bone, to soul
    and no matter how I seek, I will never be whole
    Boundless journey
    keeps me adrift through it all
    I’m so weary of being lifted
    on this endless flight,
    into perpetual fall.

    Last edited: Nov 21, 2006
  17. Too Much

    Shallow breath and
    heavy sigh
    Forgetting to breathe
    for the weight
    I find myself beneath
    Look what I have done!
    See, how far I’ve come,
    only to be greeted
    by my soul, so sorely defeated
    Be the end near or far,
    I cannot reckon with
    what’s in my heart
    Lord, but I’m tired
    My eyes no longer see
    the whole me I used to be
    Alone, waylaid,
    I have no plan;
    The tides
    keep washing away the sand
    of all I’ve tried to build,
    leaving me with useless guilt
    for all I could not control,
    for all the sorrow
    I could not hold…

    It was too much

  18. Walking Wounded

    So many walking wounded,
    haunted and besieged,
    hunted down by memory,
    drugged by pain and despair
    so that nothing else is real
    Fear of each new moment
    takes its toll as
    the past holds no good record,
    and all hope is in vain
    for all that remains
    is the void,
    the empty place
    we inhabit,
    where tears fall
    inside each heartbeat
    We are weary as the dead
    but still breathe
    and know not why…

  19. Question

    Locked in death throes,
    my spirit laments
    Leaving inch by torturous inch
    Yet I am numb
    as if looking on from afar
    I am no longer me
    Like the soul’s experience of leaving the body,
    removed, absent, vacant
    No longer connected
    Is giving up a mortal sin
    or a sacred eventuality?

    Last edited: Nov 21, 2006
  20. Sacred Expression

    Sacred expression
    of the unseen;
    The poet’s words that tell of
    what it means
    to be in pain,
    of hurt that drives
    the mind insane
    and leaves the soul scarred
    Deep inside their wounded heart
    is the longing to be heard,
    And true,
    for some things
    there are no words,
    but seeking between the lines
    one may glean what therein lies
    and innately know the truth;
    Witness to the feeling,
    see the naked spirit bleeding

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