Jesse Ellsbury

Jesse Ellsbury Poems

Depression is something nobody gets,
not even those afflicted with it.
With the sponge on your eyes and the veil on your head,
you’re too busy wond’ring what it’s like to be dead
...

Poem!
How dare you defy me
the words at my command.
I am your creator,
...

Why does quicksand exist?
Why does the lightning strike like a wildcat
growling from the midst?
...

The bubbles fly so fervently,
Down my parched and painful throat,
The straw amidst
The blocks of ice,
...

It was a day in early May
When the two sat on a hill,
Staring into the sea.
...

The sparrow flutters with a broken wing,
one working oar spinning it in circles.
It has no idea what the future holds,
a bleak and broken condemnation,
...

I revel in the world around me, in the trees and clouds and oceans,
I romp around and call to the hills and the hills call back to me
in unspoken languages, the pangs of this are anguishing,
snow has melted, flowers wilted, I thought that they would bloom
...

When the smoke
clears and the fire engines
disappear I’ll find that my house
still remains
...

There’s no point in teaching
the rats on a sinking ship
how to swim…
...

Bumblebee, how do you soar
with a body so big and wings so short?
The physics are ungainly,
the angles don’t add up to one-eighty
...

The sands of time have escaped the hourglass and cascaded onto the coast,
Everything I tried I reached I failed to my utmost.
There is no more time.
Time has no more me.
...

Poetry
used to come easy,
the words would flow from my soul
like ink from a pen
...

As I see the setting sun,
I’m reminded that I, too, am one
lying down for my repose,
pen in hand, I write my prose
...

I’m not here for your amusement;
I am not amused.
For every one of your broken promises,
I have shed two tears –
...

I have been thrust
formless
into a void, with a door
behind me
...

I see the cars,
we can’t manage them on earth
but we put them on Mars
and call it progress,
...

Now that you’re married I find I’m comparing
myself to you all the time.
What kind of a servant have you converted
yourself to now that you’re blind?
...

I keep trying to do things right
but things always seem to do me wrong.
My eyes, they are open but only see one way,
Old Man Bad Luck comes from the other side
...

Hope is just the blind faith of the fool,
I’m trying so hard not to open my eyes,
We always wake from dreams, that’s the rule.

The vagaries of vagabonds are always cruel,
...

Out of the primordial swamp emerged,
among the trees and pubic ferns,
an organism devoid of form,
a leathery creature trapped by words.
...

Jesse Ellsbury Biography

Jesse Ellsbury was born in Washington D.C. but grew up in the suburbs. He wrote his first poem when he was fourteen, and it started a lifelong passion. He attended the University of Maryland, Baltimore County of a full Humanities and taught with AmeriCorps before earning his Master of Arts in Teaching at the University of Pittsburgh. He is a licensed English teacher and enjoys it, but his heart will always be with his black pen, not his red one. His work can be allusive, abrasive, elusive, philosophical, witty, and even apocalyptic, but it is diverse and has a literary depth, detail, and humor that can be eye-opening. If he didn't intend to have the career path of Edgar Allen Poe or Emily Dickenson, he might amount to something.)

The Best Poem Of Jesse Ellsbury

Even Depressed People Say That They'Re Fine

Depression is something nobody gets,
not even those afflicted with it.
With the sponge on your eyes and the veil on your head,
you’re too busy wond’ring what it’s like to be dead
to even see what’s going on,
when you look at yourself all you see is a pawn
captured too early in the game,
you spend so much time seeking someone to blame
that you never ask what you did to get to that place
where the sun never shines,
where everything is offered and yet nothing is mine.

But you get used to the pain that you feel every day,
and the loneliness leads you to push others away,
you feel so alone and you want relief,
but you’re afraid that the effort will lead to more grief
it’s not worth it and so you conclude
that it’s safer to spend your life in your room.
If you don’t take the test you have no chance to fail,
just beware your cocoon doesn’t become a jail.

Depression is when the pleasure of life is outweighed by the pain,
when the past hits the future and tomorrow is stained,
you can’t see the ground so you refuse to walk,
you can’t dare to speak because someone might talk.

Depression is a day when the clouds won’t part,
and not a drop falls on your lips which are parched
like the desert you feel whenever you see
the things you used to love or the people who believe
you can snap out of this
with the flick of a switch,
well if that’s true,
then where is it?

Depression is when help you are offered
matters less than the hurt that you have,
when you hold onto that pain
like a junkie holds their vein
in a closed loop of cold suicide.

Depression is a state of mind
that confuses the truth with its own lies.
But before you conclude
that none of this applies to you,
remember:
even depressed people say that they’re fine.

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