It's my turn to teach creative writing and I'm looking for poetry written in or from a depressed or suicidal state. If any one can find anything they think I can use please post it letting me know author and title too.
--It was your choice--
It was your choise to have me because he died and you cuoldn't manage suicide but mine was fine
Newborn and as quickly as you could my heart was torn without moarning
And now these people's stupid problems are just so boring
And the girl I love I can not touch because you f@#$ed me up too much
For you it wasn't enough just not to love me.
No. You wouldn't hug, you wouldn't touch me, you would teach me.
You would however blame me.
I'd at 2 you against the fridge for what you said to him, My Father.
I saw at 2 and now I look back like I knew, you needed it.
Sent me around the world wherever I was herled why would it matter?
Better yet pull back to hear you chatter on this island with these people who hate My Father's Kind. My Kind which You kept from Me.
But you didn't not stop the people's children from beating me repeatidly if My Father had not been in me.
My genes will not let me fall.
And to you? I never thought to call.
I hurt so many because of you,
Still I'm strong because of you.
I will heal you when I see you,
I love you too.
Fire And Ice~
Find the collected works of Sylvia Plath in your library. Plenty of material there for you. Plath committed suicide and had had a history of unstability.
Philip Larkin: Aubade; Tennyson's Mariana poems and Break, Break, Break; Hopkins's Carrion Comfort; Keats's Ode on MelancholyColeridge's Dejection; William Collins;parts of King Lear. Settle down with this lot and a bottle of aspirin.
Try Anne Sexton too.
Stephen
Hamlet's soliloquy (act 3, scene 1)
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 68
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and, by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks 72
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come 76
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 80
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 84
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death, 88
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of? 92
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment 96
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
I'd take an in-depth look at the works of Dylan Thomas, as well. He was not a happy man.
Thank you all! You have saved me alot of searching! Wish me good luck.... I teach tommorrow!
I know that you had your session today, but here is a great poem on this topic, FWIW.
SUICIDE NOTE
This time
I certainly
do not ask for understanding
and yet I hope everyone else
will turn their heads when an unrehearsed fish jumps
on the surface of Echo Lake;
when moonlight,
its bass note turned up loud,
hurts some building in Boston,
when the truly beautiful lie together.
I think of this, surely,
and would think of it far longer
if I were not… if I were not
at that old fire.
I could admit
that I am only a coward
crying me me me
and not mention the little gnats, the moths,
forced by circumstance
to suck on the electric bulb.
But surely you know that everyone has a death,
his own death,
waiting for him.
So I will go now
without old age or disease,
wildly but accurately,
knowing my best route,
carried by that toy donkey I rode all these years,
never asking, “Where are we going?”
We were riding (if I’d only known)
to this.
Dear friend,
please do not think
that I visualize guitars playing
or my father arching his bone.
I do not even expect my mother’s mouth.
I know that I have died before—
once in November, once in June.
How strange to choose June again,
so concrete with its green breasts and bellies.
Of course guitars will not play!
The snakes will certainly not notice.
New York City will not mind.
At night the bats will beat on the trees,
knowing it all,
seeing what they sensed all day.
Anne Sexton
I read your message and thought that you might want to look at these poems I wrote. I am not suicidal or depressed but I like to write about deep things. They are not that good so sorry if I wasted your time.
TIRED
Hating the reflection
Need someones affection
Can't get over it
No one wants to fit
Want to change whats looking back
Hard to carry the heavy sack
Sick of all the fake
Don't know how much more I can take
Can't stop the screaming
Wishing I was dreaming
DEPRESSION
Deep and buried in a pit
Ebony black all around
Pressure
Ripped and torn inside
Empty and cold all the time
Swallowed up in the darkness
So afraid of what tomorrow will bring
Inside and out just falling apart
Obviously its a problem
Need a want to live
Thank you everyone.... turns out my turn is next week... oh well.
Lacie, it was not a waste of my time. It was a good read and I enjoyed them.
Sarah, look in the UserSubmitted Poetry forum. Search authour Ylena.
aoibheann
Look at poetry by Emily Dickenson
Hi sarah, try
John Keats: 'when I have fears'
'Bright star' (?)or
'Ode to a nightingale'
I HATE MY LIFE ALL TIME
DON'T SEE ME LIVE NO MORE HAVE NO FRIENDS
ALL MY FRIENDS ARE DEADE AND GO FOR GIVE
I AM TAKE MY LIFE SOON?
I HATE MY LIFE ALL TIME
DON'T SEE ME LIVE NO MORE HAVE NO FRIENDS
ALL MY FRIENDS ARE DEADE AND GO FOR GIVE
I AM TAKE MY LIFE SOON?
Dying....that'll be the last thing I'll do