Treasure Island

Lawerence Mize, Sr.

(October 29,1949 / Baltimore, Maryland)

Depression


It's in the eyes
That stare straight ahead
That vacant look
That shows nothing need be said

No glimmer of hope
From facial expressions
Just outward signs
Of deep depression

Wrists marked
From failed attempts
Disheveled clothes
On bodies listless and limp

No vestige of hope
Of things to be
Lives spent wasted
Broken... for all to see

Depression grips
The mind and soul
Leaving you empty
Leaving you cold

Submitted: Monday, December 16, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poet's Notes about The Poem

The long, lonely, and dark days of winter can play havoc with the mind sometimes bringing on deep depressions. I thought about that while at work and wrote this poem.

Comments about this poem (Depression by Lawerence Mize, Sr. )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Is life an error?, gajanan mishra
  2. Life's Connection, Sandra Feldman
  3. A TUTTI VOI, UN' OFFERTA CON AMORE!, Monk E. Biz
  4. Life...Please Come In, Kanwaljit Bhullar
  5. Sweet Home, Tony Adah
  6. Hello, man!, Pranab K. Chakraborty
  7. Passage beyond, Pranab K. Chakraborty
  8. In search of singularity, Pranab K. Chakraborty
  9. I am real, gajanan mishra
  10. God-Love The Great Sugar Cube, Monk E. Biz

Poem of the Day

poet Helen Hunt Jackson

The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way,
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]