Despair Poems

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
...

Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
...

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
...

Ere the birth of my life, if I wished it or no
No question was asked me--it could not be so !
If the life was the question, a thing sent to try
And to live on be YES; what can NO be ? to die.
...

Self lost in obsessive agony,  
Your primal passion - a flaming ferocity,  
The raging fire consumes your dignity,  
And shame put to slumber.
...

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
...

Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist -- slack they may be -- these last strands of man
In me {'o}r, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
...

Art thou abroad on this stormy night
on thy journey of love, my friend?
The sky groans like one in despair.
...

How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner
As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier,
As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner,
And drops to perfection's remembrance a tear;
...

Then what is the answer?- Not to be deluded by dreams.
To know that great civilizations have broken down into violence,
and their tyrants come, many times before.
When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose
...

Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn't matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
...

This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollrock highroad roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.
...

I hear an army charging upon the land,
And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees:
Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand,
Disdaining the reins, with fluttering whips, the charioteers.
...

Who is he?
A railroad track toward hell?
Breaking like a stick of furniture?
The hope that suddenly overflows the cesspool?
...

Human reason is beautiful and invincible.
No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books,
No sentence of banishment can prevail against it.
It establishes the universal ideas in language,
...

.
the ghosts are walking again
walking and talking in the night again
sorrow is eating my bones again
...

He said he loved me! Then he called my hair
Silk threads wherewith sly Cupid strings his bow,
My cheek a rose leaf fallen on new snow;
And swore my round, full throat would bring despair
...

I TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God's throne in loud access
...

Art thou abroad on this stormy night
on thy journey of love, my friend?
The sky groans like one in despair.
...

DESPAIR 

Suddenly, this clutching feeling renders me frozen in time, as I lay helpless; despair hovers over me as it makes its descend. ClaimIng me as her own she begins to quickly ravish the most tender of devotions leaving nothing behind.
...

I find myself agreeing a lot with Goethe lately…
yes, I think it would be fair
to say I spend as much time on top of the world…
as I do floundering in the depths of despair.
...

June 19,2018 at 10: 40 a.m.; June 20 at 11: 48 a.m.; June 25 at 9: 28 a.m.; Wednesday afternoon, July 4,2018 at 4: 58 p.m.;
then Tuesday morning, September 13,2022 at 9: 12 a.m.; then at 11: 53 a.m.

"Not truth but each other."
...

The despair of nothing to write
Except writing about nothing to write
The despair of repetition
Of saying again and again
...

I scooped hoops of hope in my hand
By volition took a stand
In spite of struggles I fought
To bring despair and its flare to nought.
...

With despair all around
Even a little Hope sparks life
It becomes Elixir to revive
That dead vein in the heart's strife.
...

die Poesie der Verzweiflung or the vociferations of an empty body
. . . I seek the debris of my body strewn across the beaches of despair, left leg existing only on paper, belly and underbelly in disarray, hands stinking of the merchandise and my barks not even reaching the ankles of this sky deprived of electricity, meaning that I cheat life which grips me by the jaw, meaning that I serve as backdrop to my garbage-bag fate, frog fate, toad fate, kipelekese fate, tchanga medesu fate . . .

. . . perhaps (in hope of some kind of salvation) I should whimper and re-whimper in D-minor like my grandma's last goat: buum, buum, buum . . .
...

Out of despair for love that has not
matured Out of despair for death
that has already planned me Out of despair
for sex that weighed us down Out
of despair for man who is only
misery Out of despair for time that
is only dust Out of despair for
art that did not visit Out of des-
pair for the soul that was not
found. Out of despair for the self that
knew only shame. Out of des-
pair for suicide that is only an
alibi Out of despair of the world
an illusion Out of despair where to
bury oneself? In study out of forgetfulness
in debauchery by misfortune but
in the sea to wash
...

To despair of God
Is to despair of myself
It is to despair about all those I love and care about
It is to despair about all of humanity
...

Oh Despair has come again
Not in winter or in summer
But in most beautiful spring
Everything flowering outside
...