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Depression Faith Poems | Faith Poems About Depression

These Depression Faith poems are examples of Faith poems about Depression. These are the best examples of Depression Faith poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Personification |

A Magic Adventure Of Peter The Pan

A Magic Adventure of Peter The Pan/AKA Peta The Fwying Pan

Peter was a fine young pan with blue eyes
Like all the other pans his age, except,
Peter could not yet pronounce 'R's'--he tried...
And 'L's'...so hard he tried. He even wept.

School had been especially hard today
Peter had been poked, teased, and made fun of
More this day than any other school day...
And the ride home took so long on the bus.

When he came through the door, his mama knew
"Why the long face? Are you hurt? Are you sick?"
"No ma'am," said Peter, "Just tiwad fwom schoow".
"Some cookies and milk may just be the trick!"

Mama said, as Peter sat down to eat.
By now, everyone was gathered around
To hear of his day--and sneak a treat.
So he told them his story...and they frowned.

"How can someone be so cruel! Makes no sense!
You are the smartest and brightest of pans!"
Said Debbie Dishwasher-- then cycle rinsed.
The rest agreed and came up with a plan.

"Okay! It's agreed!" said Bob the blender.
"You need magic!--THAT--we can render!

Charles Chalice and Gail Goblet--my dear
Bring what you have, for this magic milk shake.
Michael Magic Grill...you go get us some beer
And also get Peter a great big steak!"

Then everyone sang together with cheer:
"A parr-ty! A parr-ty! It's a parr-ty!
We are all...having...a magic--parr-ty!"

Everyone was busy, hust'ling around.
Tams the Golden Toaster was making toast.
Tex Texas Tea Pot hummed a whist'ling sound.
David Dish and Sara Spoon danced the most,
Except for Marlon Mop--he could 'get down'!

Carol Crock Pot was fixing up the Soup.
Russell Rolling Pin had rolled out a crust
For a magic pie with love from the coop.
Joann Juicer made fresh smoothies--a must!
Suddenly...a sound was heard on the stoop...

"Who could that be? It's nearly midnight!"
Said Cyndi Chandlier all bright with light.
Christopher Cutting-board called, "I'll go see!"
Vienna Vaccume said, "Not without me!"

"Wait!" Debbie Dishwasher cried from the sink.
"Let's look at more options. We need to think.
It could be someone in need of a meal...
Or, it's a burglar--come here to steal!"

"Everyone else! Quickly! Hide inside me
Until we find out who that sound might be!"

deborah burch©
5/23/2012

*****end part I...conclusion in part II




Details | Romanticism |

Follow

Our lives produce such struggles
to which we must rise!
And often we find places
that from which we would run and hide.
But just remember that Your choice
will bring the happiness you seek... 
Just Be the Brave one you wish
The one you still want to be.

For I am here to catch you,
to help and see you through,
within your dreams or trials of life;
whether on mountain or cliff
whichever weso choose to climb.  
 
Remember this as you feel you are sinking.
or slipping from the walls you've been clinging.
The climb may tire the muscles 
as we reach for the top,  
and make us weaker in our strength
while we try to here hang on.

But if we just let go,
and trust the our heart to know what's right
we will never  be led to far away;
Though even trodding in the night.
 
And do not fear the way back down!
For how many birds fly, 
when still nested on the Ground.

And if, by chance,
your wings you fail to find...
From your fall I'll catch you, 
and lead you on through time.
 
For how many learn to open there wings
whilst the mud stayed fixated about their feet.  
The Winds of the sky need your wings to catch, 
to fly you to the heavens
where the angels await you to meet,
and lead you to that better place.
A place we can not even dream.

So with the lightest breeze 
they will teach us how to soar...
and lift us from our agony and woe.
Thus ending the anguish
as your wings fill there up.
to fly with them forever more. 

The Ground is not safe nor is the air, 
but what life would we live 
if we never did dare.
Where angels fear
and devils are faint...
If Love durst not 
then forever must then wait.
 
I remember the story 
of two who fell in love... 
His name became his enemy, 
and He o'er her family
She did make that choice.
 
I would be that Romeo, 
say you my Juliet...
And with you in my arms 
I would die once more again. 
With you I would cast off the sins,
an choose to hold you in the end.
 
When together,two become one,
Star crossed lovers 
can find the peace of each others arms. 
when as one we will fly,
Into that bitterless sky.


Details | Alliteration |

THE LAST DAYS

The days seem to go by so fast. there is a void in the air, the birds have lost their vibrant beat, the ocean has lost its luster, the soil feels solid and dry.
 
My soul feels as if it has left my body before my death, my dreams haunt my day, the tears stain my steps, my doctor says that it is depression, I say that it is reality, I am intoxicated by society,I am numb by perscriptions.
 
Why do I feel so isolated within myself? is there no one in my painfully tight shoes? can anyone understand my pain? can anyone melt in my sorrows? why am I this way? why is the world so cruel? why can't I be normal?
 
Wait! I am normal, what am I saying, I know now, the veil has been lifted, humanity is my enemy, the sins that drip from their sweat, the dread that follows their shadows, their souls of black, their intentions of greed pull a shade across their eyes.
 
They are destined for doom, they will not be saved, they will not find salvation, they belittle me, they curse me, they shame me, but they are right about one thing, I am different, unlike them, I will be saved in the last days.


Details | Rhyme |

I will not fear the silent night (Trijan Refrain)

I will not fear the silent night
alone below the moon
or winter’s cold approaching bite-
the sting that comes too soon.
I’ll wrap my heart in Summer’s song
And sing to keep my passion strong
I’ll wrap my heart 
I’ll wrap my heart
And hope that frost won’t linger long.

I will not mourn the silent night
or raging of the sea,
the frothy caps that spread in spite
of calmness deep in me.
I’ll rise above the drowning tide
with pounding heart and battered pride
I’ll rise above
I’ll rise above
and fill the barren wells inside.

I will not hold the silent night
against the bitter wind
though darkness clouds my inner sight
and resolution’s thinned,
I’ll plant my feet, embracing choice
accept the native parts, rejoice,
I’ll plant my feet
I’ll plant my feet
remaining true to my own voice. 

~Trijan Refrain~ (a fabulous form by Jan Turner)

8/23/10


Details | Bio |

read this please

They hate you because your you
They make up lies and call it true
They're fake behind your back
Hoping someday that you'll crack.

They hate you because your real.
no matter what they say you always heal
They're surprised to see you rise,
That you're not affected by all these lies


They hate you because you smile at them
It shows them that your a real gem
You are always true and do your best :)
Sometimes these haters just cant test

They hate you for no reason
Despite it all, you smile
whatever the reason
At the end of the day
All i'm gonna say
All i plan to be 
IS ME


-Sanderline Fleury :)


Details | Free verse |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | Double Dactyl |

Beyond Your End

 BEYOND YOUR END
Look deep into yourself my friend,
if then, you need to look to me, 
and deep enough to see the end,
beyond your end is where I'll be.

Into the love someday you'll see,
becoming all the things you'll know,
before your very eyes, I'll be
already where you want to go.

I'll be your long and blinding light,
of which all life is awed,
the thread that reaches through the night
in search of what is God.

And in a while, if love is right,
and hope is not just more pretend,
though you have sought what e'er you might,
'tis me you'll find, beyond your end.

And I will love your death away,
removing from your mind
what'er your death might seem to be,
with love impossible to find.
Û  © RON WILSON aka vee bdosa


Details | Sonnet |

Sonnet 18 Parody

Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
Thou art much more shrivelled and much more cold
Rough winds shake the withered leaves of today.
And your stomach hath too many a fold.

Sometimes too hot your sister shines,
And often is your grey complexion dimmed;
And you always smell like my uncle’s swine 
Except your upper lip is less well trimmed.

Thy eternal summer did long since fade
And lost possession of that fair thou ow'st;
And Satan brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives death to eyes.


Details | Narrative |

African Child

" From the debt of my heart"

The African child
Sat behind the bamboo fence
He was sober and tense
Sputtering and wondering.
He forsook the bush meat
And the gathering under the moonlight
For sobriety and the causes of his uncertainties.
His clothes were like dried leaves
His feet like openings in the eaves
He longed to see a brighter tomorrow
He clarified the causes of his sorrow;
Sins of the father,
Fighting not to make things better
Therefore darkening the weather,
Making his destiny falter and bitter.
Tears exuded from the sound of his flute,
His fears enlarged like a parachute
But one thing he never understood,
Watch and pray, oh! African root
For your foundation is stinky, filthy,
Faulty and guilty...... watch and pray.



Details | Free verse |

Deaf and Gone

I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...

       Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed, 
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised. 
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate?  If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us. 
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow. 
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you. 
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep 


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