Melancholia

I am a brooding poet,
in woebegone I sink,
without even trying to swim ashore.

There is much to contemplate on,
when melancholy pervades physical unto soul.
I imprint my perennial despondency in memory,
as i imbue it in ink.

I sit for days in blue funk.
As i drink from my sorrow,
mirthless liquid setting tingles in my love parched throat,
goaded i am,to float more so in darker clouds.

Brighter fabrics adorn me,
yet despondency leaps onto my shoulders,
from chipped wooden hangers,unlit corners of closet.
Running into my button holes,
voids in knot of my tie,
I wear them all days.

I remember with lucid memory,
all women who threw away my heart,
as they throw their crystal ware under a spell of tantrums.
Imbued is all abandonment in ink,
so that i can chew on such again and again.
Women who worshiped me,
devoted fragile hearts to me,
i remember them vaguely..
for they do not cater to my wistful moods.

As i sit in blue funk,
sinking in woebegone,
at the very core of my heart,
i wait for an angel,to read my sorrowed soul,
which is still twelve while I  am wincing in forties,
in dwindling hope,
she would caress my affliction away.

Reviews

[Devons]

A wistful and insightful exploration of the self-fulfilling prophecy of 'art as catharsis.' Trouble, pain and suffering, worry the writer into inspired introspection, and to wallow in the ideas and material it offers. To some, the identity of the tortured artist is the be-all and end-all of creativity; to many, it is the ball that starts the rolling, and the basis of their work. The poem captures the taste and the perverse reasoning of this conceptual psychology very well.
"I remember with lucid memory,
all women who threw away my heart,
as they throw their crystal ware under a spell of tantrums.
Imbued is all abandonment in ink,
so that i can chew on such again and again.
Women who worshiped me,
devoted fragile hearts to me,
i remember them vaguely..
for they do not cater to my wistful moods."
...These lines are very telling. I have known this exact personality type and perhaps in some ways I am or have been this same man who...
"..is still twelve while I am wincing in forties"
An empathetic and incisive piece of work, which not only captures the mood of the title, but also is thoughtfully revealing in its character study. A profile which explains quite accurately how such artistic minds work, male or female.

[paul]

in woebegone i sink, not even trying to swim a shore. brilliant! i m a brooding poet too. but cowardly i try to swim , in vain, ashore. your overwhelming words leave me a loss for words. like a nonswimmer facing the ocean. blue is my favorite colored funk. ahh, the loved parched throat. this poem is like a big wave, i can t even handle. despondency leaping onto shoulders: i wishi could write like that! :all women, throw their crystal ware under tantrum spells: too brilliant to review. and the rest: too brilliant too

[dovetailer]

blue gives life a somber tone and allows us to brood in peace...become introspective and sink deeper into that hopeless place where we watch the days pass on our walls and the only difference between our lot and death is the faint beating of our hearts...
this write has a deliciously dank and hopeless feel...that what others see is just a costume worn...a charade played so they won't see the darkness of our soul where we helplessly await...a miracle...

[An owl on the moon]

You bring about this depth of darkness so well.. one I was once simply too familiar with... that blue funk nearly did me in. And yes... there is nothing like an angel to lift us out of it... Beautiful and bittersweet...

[Emily B]

you are such an accomplished poet . . . your words are simply beautiful

[Jibey]

A wonderful Swaha write, with that sad sense of listless need, with the mixture of colours and textures, with the striking images - like the chipped wooden hangers and the button holes.. You tells such a story of one whose sorrowed soul finds no solace, whose hope dwindles as time rolls on...

So very perceptive and so very compassionate in its awareness ...

[Marie Harrison]

I love how you describe your depression through the use of clothing, closets and hangers. It's a very expressive and creative poem. I hope it's not true because I hate to hear you are depressed, but your poem is incredible.

[Molafvt]

When one refers to the "Blues, they are obviously speaking of this "funky" poem about pain, rejection and judgment. It is entirely possible that the blues were born from this piece. This is the perfect plea for the love of another; a love that has no boundaries, no expectations, no pretensions. It begs for an unconditional love, still unrequited. This gripping piece stirred up many feelings and memories that I would have much rather forgotten, but NO, you had to bring them up all over again. LOL I tried to pick a "favorite stanza, but alas, they are all my favorites. Well done and cathartic-at least for me.....!

[Ladysue]

You write melancholy with such astounding beauty. The images in this piece bring the reader into the moment. So much heart and soul. A truly magnificent write. I always enjoy your writing...

[JC]

kind of reads like a jab to the guts, a left hook followed by an uppercut...meaning you could be cutting someone down at the knees..yet i read you in there as well, enigmatic and hiding out in the open, your poetry is always strong with mystery...always strong with emotion...always strong...