Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “depression”

30 Apr 2014
2 Comments

Underwater Burn

Is happiness just the ability to hold depression at bay, to stay tears or at the very least to reach down into your last receding well of ‘oh well’  and pull up one more pail of ‘I’m fine’ to pour on the demons who unfortunately have learned to hold their breath and burn under water.  Hold your breath just one more time and see if you can outlast them. Hold your breathe, no ‘maybe’ about it, just grit your teeth and sink beneath the confusion hoping for a foothold so you can run like Hell for shore. There’s always ‘tomorrow’ – blessing or curse it can always be worse, it’s a matter of ‘will’ that won’t matter if you don’t care, so sleep if you can and hope for dreams of what could ‘be’ if the demons would just drown and wash away, feel the salt water purge them from your soul and try to find the urge to try just one more time to find something ‘better’

 

If you string together the words in quotations = ‘Oh well, I’m fine. Maybe tomorrow will be better.’

Posted in Poetry, Writings and tagged , , ,
31 Jan 2013
2 Comments

The Coat

Some days I wear a coat of wet blankets.
It becomes me,
with its heavy, sweeping hem
damply swirling the world
into chaos as I pass.
It becomes me,
with its drooping shoulders draped
in a  moist muffler,
dripping paindrops from its tassels.
It becomes me,
with a strange, soggy, sincerity,
it becomes me.
And I know if I don’t take it off soon
I’ll become it.

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning, Poetry and tagged ,
11 Dec 2012

The Five Stages of Winter

Denial is that first skiff of snow.
“It’ll never stick, you’ll see!”

Anger starts when that little skiff
gets up past your knees.

Bargaining is when you shovel the walk
but the rest you just ignore.

Depression blows in when the drifting snow
Is halfway up your door.

Acceptance starts when you come to terms
That winter’s here to stay

and right after that the sun comes out
and the snow all melts away.

#353

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning, Poetry, Writings and tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
21 Sep 2012
2 Comments

The Five Stages of Food Grief

Denial
Eggs can’t be bad for me
I’m sure I read an article
that told me that they wouldn’t hurt
my ventricles and hearticles.

Anger
Drat it! Everything I like
has cholesterol and salt.
I should smack the manufacturer.
It’s all his gol dern fault.

Bargaining
I could eat a steak today
then for the next two weeks
drink water, and browse melba toast,
and  salads laced with leeks.

Depression
Oh, I give up. If it tastes good
I should probably spit it out.
I won’t live any longer but
it’ll feel that way, no doubt.

Acceptance
What is this? Guacamole?
Whole grain bread, home made jam?
Food’s better when it’s fresh
and doesn’t come out of a can.

#272

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning, Poetry, Writings and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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