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Depression Narrative Poems | Narrative Poems About Depression

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

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Details | Narrative |

The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee


Details | Narrative |

Evacuation and Loss

The night shone for the full moon,
Sky brewing a coarse monsoon,
Bolted were windows, locked were doors,
The frequency of death frighteningly soared.
But who was this infant high upon the hill?
He denied the storm and just stood stone still,
Eyes shut like blinds and fingers dug into ground,
Felt he could move no muscle, for was sadly street bound.
Shutting his eyes, arms wrapped tight round
His skinny body, battered and browned
Praying for the sake of friends, family and all
However imaginary, he imagined them call
 “Boy, come to us we love you most”
“Our love for you is bigger than the Canadian coast”
“Do not cry, remember our love”
Joining their gaze in the beyond above,
He softly mumbled a song to forget,
The once daily song that was always a duet,
Alone on that hill without any feel,
Of an afterlife he finally accepted, wasn’t real
Tears met the floor, now bathed in yellow light,
As lightning struck him too quick to fright,
Child lay on the floor, dismembered and black,
Though his mouth was smiling and his happiness had come back,
As re-joined with family, head held high, 
He waved his tortured existence goodbye.
Hugging his mum and his dad the same,
Somehow put an end to the incessant rain,
The natives emerged from their homes, safe and sound,
The boy crying for happiness at the new life he had found.
Soul peering at his body, dead at age eleven,
Holding family’s hands they could finally pass on and join heaven. 
The touch of their skin brought old emotion,
 Parents who were torn betwixt war and devotion,
A child whom they gave their best shot,
By train to board and bomb to not.
The grave of the boy with the electric crown,
Who carried a burden he couldn’t live down,
Stood proud in the yard of cobbles and stones,
For everyone knew those were a heroes bones,
When you look into the sky on a stormy night,
Remind yourself of the boy’s plight.
As he is the clouds that damper weather,
Out to protect his town, children altogether,
He wanted a life for them around,
That didn’t consist of being mentally wound,
A life that he could never possess,
But he did not bathe in spiralling depress.
Life is sacred, upon that hill,
Those cobbles and stones bring great goodwill,
For the sun only shines on that grassy land,
Still holding marks of the boy’s humble hand,
Some say that the yearly rain,
Is him up above, the tears of a chain.
The chain of the tears shed on that night,
Of the fear and happiness’ conventional recite,
Up above, being tucked under the covers,
Is a little boy with an injury he recovers,
Mother kisses his head and says her goodnight,
Father over bed, comforting a nightmare fright.
Drifting off, the boy could hear,
A little rhyme to calm his fear,
“Boy, come to us we love you most”
“Our love for you is bigger than the Canadian coast”
“Do not cry remember our love-“
The young man rose slowly in his bed,
Opened his eyes and smiled as he said
“I’m here”


Details | Narrative |

Sacred

Here, the Leaves Engulfed themselves 
in Glorious Golden Symphonies 

Here, the Trickling and Tepid waters
Silked over Smooth Stones

Here, is where we Lay for Hours,
Together under oaks shadow

Here, you enjoyed brief Slumber as
I Ran my fingers through your Hair.

and it is

here, I keep you Sacred, as I lie 
Alone within the Shade.


Details | Narrative |

The Phone

The phone rings empty into the night.
Filling a void that brings strange comfort
to thoose around.

Rage eats away untill it bores a hole
straight through are hearts.
Whiskey cauterizes the wound.

Alone with fools we gather.
The bitter ones taking to there barstools.
the weak look to punish thoose happy
bastards.
Who dare to feel anything in the place of  
emptyness.

She left so many years befor.
At least her mortal soul did.
I rememeber when it was when I still
dared to dream.

Long befor reallity was a friend.
Lovers lie.
Motions keep us living.

She spoke but the words were empty as her heart.
So as strangers we parted just as we met.
With a bitter taste I never did reply.

The phone rang it's last time.
I herd it echo farewell down the hall.

I had to go so I never unlocked the door.
i just left my emotions hanging  like some
forgotten coat pushed back in
the closet.

Its been almost a year since that phone filled
the emptyness of my soul.
If only I had answered.


Details | Narrative |

Two Orphans In Heaven

There's two orphans in Heaven just walking about the land
Just pulling on coattails, trying to grab a hand
They sometimes look down the wishing-well, beyond the clouds,
trying to find their mommy there walking within the busy crowds.
Each time their tears fall they land right down on me
And it reminds of the babies, whom I never got to see.
So if you're getting tired and your walk here is nearly through,
Please come here and find me, to take these words with you:
Tell them, I do love them and I desire to hold them even now
But I have their brothers here, so my heart doesn't know how 
If you see them in passing please kiss them both...Times three
'Cause those two lil' orphans in Heaven, well they belong to me.
Tell them to just keep watching us, and when my time is through,
I'll meet them at the wishing well, and make our dreams come true.

                                                  


Details | Narrative |

The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss


April 14, 2013


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 | Narrative |

America, Why Did You Stray?

America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.

America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.

America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.

Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.

America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive 
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.

America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.

America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.

America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.


Details | Narrative |

It's not about You {He is the One} (2)

Young and Old: It is time to
                       wake up;  Young America, there comes a moment in life were it is coherent
that the close eye's of supply and demand will offer a challenge that shall seperate the boy's
from the Man's. And to add to this remark, Women, whether you are white, black, red or what
ever choice that place's you in the catagory of demand. Your emotional fortitude alway will be
an issue, the supplie's of your womanhood, is that the challenge's of tomorrow supercedes 
any challenge's of yester-year's because the cause's of determination are often misunder-
stood when both sexes's think they are above their nature and their attitude is to be conc-
ieve as "good". But, "It's not about You". Old, middleage or new, a generation of viper's it is
not about you, not about the clothe's you wear or the self proclaim existence of your supply 
and demand. He spoke everything into its proper order of importence, now the evil beast  
[satin] and the self centered thought's of people's, have the forces of impurity been given to 
a society that's compel to do what they want too do. "Is that You".
Satin: has taken over the Churche's:  God created life: Mankind in its procurement to out-do
the essence of God himself, have accepted an abonminable disrespect unto himself and who
are the one's that suffer: Our Churche's, as an uppity blandent society of worshipper's, that
knows no God, has allow itself that the place of worship has become a dend of permissive be-
haviour. "It's not about You". It's about God (Jehovah) the name of Emanuel speake's that he 
is the Lord of everything. And the attitude of the peoples can not change one thing. With eye's
wide open and the spirit of love is resussited in generation upon generation recieving the
blessing of the Son; Young and Old, Shout-Out the cidditiness from your lungs. Accept and
believe. "He is the One".

Let the Bible speak's: Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not redeem with corruptible
1 Peter 1 18-19         thing's, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation recieved
                                by tradition from your fathers: But with the precious blood of
                                Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and spot:


Details | Narrative |

He's more than just a friend, { He is the One} 1

The pressure and pain in each other's family of another friend that slips away and now
you find yourself in need of someone to talk too.  And in each family and every of the
thousand's that you thought was your friend is never the same.  "He's more than just a
friend".  When one need to be uplifted and the need of the same thousand seem some-
what drifted, the one that truly is in need gets lost in the shuffle.  And that shuffle is re-
onerated by one's pride and greed, that same someone shall never have the proper
necessitie's too satisfied that need.  The Lord Jesus Christ promises friendship mix with
courtship would always equal a divine relationship.  "He's more than just a friend", for I
once was lost but now I am found, the one's in need of an uplift will not find it, because
the idiosyncrasies we compound in our live's is due to the burden's that we allow to keep 
us down, we turn to someone who we thought was that friend, only to be disapointed time
and time again, the price of which is discarded by the poor.  "He's more than just a friend,
maybe that's him you hear knocking at your door".  If that be him....then let him in, a
friend indeed is he, clousure than any somebody that you will meet having church on any
street.  Muhummed nor Buhda can be your friend.  For they were not annoited on the
criteria of love nor do their belief's allow's being friendly to folk's that marches to the beat
of a different stroke.  Now if you are still in need of a friend and you're not ashame to
call upon his name.  (Call Him) He would come to you from all direction.  Just believe, on 
that day of ressurection, more than just a friend got up and got out, SHOUTING!!.."All power is mine". 
"So now all everyone".  "COME"
And meet a real true friend.  Believing on Joseph and Mary's - Son.  {He is the One}.


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