Sonnet Depression Poems | Sonnet Poems About Depression

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

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Depression

Unending darkness floods the skies alone in dreams my heart must weep no words are spoken or even cried such silence lives where shadows sleep My pleas just echo off the stillness my tears find no comfort as they fall my hope stands as a martyred witness I pin no exit from this pall Turn your head and spare no time leave greater credence to lesser thoughts take what is said in this poor rhyme add to your bed of forget-me-nots Think only of what should have been No lesser loss, this mortal sin.

Copyright © Charlie Smith | Year Posted 2017


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Fading Porch Light

Fading porch light lures with pale glow
a circling moth, dull-beige and bare.
As starlight ties vast sky in bows, 
I shy away from ruthless glare. 

Night holds secrets I’ll never know  
of bold ventures and starry-eyes 
of love; cast alone in shadows,
I cry. The fading porch light dies.   

Unwelcomed guest, the moth again
boasts of heights, flitting and spurring 
my desperate cries - through open
window, lifting higher, whirring.

Moth seeks light on wings now broken
forever gone, my dreams unspoken…   


Entered in Silent One's Sadness Contest, 2/9/17
Originally for Chopped II Contest, written 11/4/14

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2014

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In A Darkened Attic Room

In A Darkened Attic Room

In attic room, one window tightly shut,
Dwells broken heart hidden from future pain.
Bare as a savage brute's empty hut-
Condemned to no hope, no future, no gain.

Where rests such perilous fear darkness reigns;-
Shattered dreams give rise to dark illusions.
Hope rejected brings on its most wicked stains,
Evil held, births its blackest conclusions.

Grown in decay until nothing remains,
Yet sad hope is better than none at all.
True love waits the bliss it always contains,
Treasures gifted, one only has to call.

If one ray of love's light but filters in
Love brings life and its promises again.

Robert J. Lindley, 1-30-2016

Syllables Per Line:	
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables:	140
Total # Lines:	18 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:	
Total # Words: 103

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016


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April Fawn

Longing in lowly light of longer days
by which a summer wilts paternal dreams
and browns the loitered heaves of yellow spring:

the budding void that stamps an empty swing
seen swaying golden locks ungated beams
my own Begotten streamed in greener dawn
where fussy forums for an April fawn

allay no muttered march on mother’s May.

Persistent blades unsheathe the sprawling grass
beneath the blue release of silver dew -
an inch overgrown, as inch shrouded cool
billows: arisen reeds from dizzied drool
showing flashes of reincarnation
cured by the rose (or purple carnation)

4/4/17

Copyright © Phillip Garcia | Year Posted 2017

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A Tortured Soul

She's bound by chains too hard for her to break
Alive and yet she tastes a living death
Morality and ethics round her neck
And so she plans to rob her soul of breath

The flames of hell are licking at her feet
In torture is her soul in need of love
A proffered gift of passion undenied
Would bring upon her wrath from God above

To convent in the hills she must escape
Confession make and plead for mercy there
Or else her heart and soul to crucify
And end the call of pleasure, beauteous fair

Betwixt morality and passion lies
The sweet seduction in a lover’s eyes

Jade Celeste

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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If I Were Gone Tomorrow

Ice crystals form on a once dusty road
Taillights shining brightly amongst the smoke
The old tall oak bruised but still standing strong
A pickled blackened heart no longer broke

If I were gone tomorrow would she care
Remembering that I was always there
Standing by her side through thick and thin
My everlasting love would never disappear

That distant night she wouldn't believe
My heart was pounding loudly for her
Stabbing those stilettos deep into my heart 
Walking out, nevermore would my spirit stir

No amount of liquor could mask the pain
Finally, a dead heart will beat again



**Inspired by Nathan D's Junkie Heaven poem and a few late night texts from a friend drinking at a bar**

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015

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For a Sad Souper

Sad boy, could anyone mend what's broken, And dry your salty tears, but with a hand? Is there anything we haven't spoken, Is there anything we don't understand? We have taken the rope, but not the pain, I hope you know that we wish that we could. We'll be here for you, through sunshine, and rain; And if we knew how to help you, we would. I know that you're angry with all involved, And especially those close to your heart. But surely, some day, all will be solved, And you will thank them for playing their part. So please read this poem, with thought and care, Remember that we will always be there. ~ For D (you know who you are)

Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2012

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Give me a break I am PMS ing

I may slap you, curse you, smack you
Don’t get too serious honey, its monthly fun
I am PMS ing and my trauma is true
Be my gentleman and Pass My Shotgun

I may hate your friends and knock them down
Be any handsome man or cute chick
Don’t get them here when I am around
I am PMS ing, People Make me Sick

I may laugh out loud at your silly jokes
And the very next moment won’t find them funny
That catastrophic emotional trauma pokes
I am PMS ing, its Psychotic Mood Shift honey

Every month, within me I sense this ruinous storm
It’s not me honey, this phantom is Premenstrual Syndrome

Copyright © Neha Godambe | Year Posted 2012

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Sonnet 28

If only I did not believe in love
My breath would kiss tomorrows lips with ease
But I have been heart-broken by your love
And only death can cure my hearts disease

Your smile seduced my soul to sleep with sin
Your eyes eclipsed with evenings I embraced
Your laughter lured my limbs to love with-in
Bedazzled by your blessings beauty traced

Sometimes a cold wind blows upon a branch
Causing its leaves to fall unto the ground
I do believe love caused my life to branch
Away from dreams as music without sound

After this sonnet that your eyes receive
Cold winds shall blow to breeze my branch to leave

Copyright © Johnny Sumler | Year Posted 2011

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A Life Sentence

Dear freedom, your sweet innocent voice seems
Now like a distant echo, lost in the wind.
Hopes lost in a set of broken dreams,
With heavy chains, to your heart of stone pinned.

Day by day, night by night, without an end in sight,
Tortured by the ravaging beak of time, flying
With wings of solit'de, displaying its might, 
And hatred-filled eyes, watching me dying. 

These chains around my heart like a vicious snake
Poisoning my soul with darkness and despair. 
A dreadful nightmare from which I will wake
And look into destiny's most wicked glare. 

I stand under shadows cast by heaven's light,
And into sleep I fade, witho't a fight.

Copyright © Andres Rocha | Year Posted 2014

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A Song Of Autumn

Soon, shall we plunge into the cold darkness
Adieu, long live our bright short summer days
I just heard falling, in shocking sadness
The wood's resounding on the pavement ways

The  winter shall enter my being: ire
Hatred, quivers, horror, labor; hard, forced
And like the sun in her polar fire
My heart will be just a block, red and iced

Trembling, i hear each log that is tumbling
Mounted scaffold, has yet, soundless echo
My spirit, a yielding tour, resembling
Succumbs to the heavy, tireless ram blows

It seems to me, lulled by a shock so dull
A coffin been nailed, some where on the fly
For whom? dead is Summer, here is the Fall
This mysterious noise sounds like goodbye

I, of your long eyes, love the green bright side
Sweet beauty, but today all is bitter,
Naught, neither your love, boudoir or fireside,
Are worth the bright sea sun, or more sweeter.

And yet, love me, tender heart be mother,
Even for a wicked, unthankful one;
Be mildness and pass, sister or lover
Of glorious Autumn, or setting sun

Short task, the tomb awaits it is avid 
Oh, let-me, my forehead on your knees,
Taste, while i mourn the white summer, torrid,
The late season, yellow sweet ray of his



Note: this is my own translation of the original poem intitled: 
*Chant D'Automne*by French Charles baudelaire. it was translated by some poets. the best one is by :*Lewis Piaget Shanks*
i tried hard to keep the rhythm and rhyme of the sonnet though it was very hard for me.

Plz. check the following link:

http://fleursdumal.org/poem/208



Copyright © Lonely Shepherd | Year Posted 2016

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The Beauty Fades

The sky above me, beauteous and blue
The trees around, cheerful with tops of green
The rays of sol, a joyous yellow hue
With awe, I gaze at this fantastic scene

Although, no beauty can last endlessly
The bright colors dim into somber shades
Stiff brown leaves wither off decaying trees
And now, in the dark, the pulchritude fades

The sky above clouds into a grim grey
The trees bare their wicked branches like fiends
The rays of sol, no longer warm and gay
 With terror, I gaze at this dreadful scene

It is time to rest, I shall be set free
The beauty is back, may it forever be.

Copyright © Omar Flores | Year Posted 2015

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Amongst the Dross

Starring into the dross of amber brew
no face see I reflected, simply hollow I.
The stein of crystal tells no fortune spare,
nor one of bounty, yet what is true?
With drink, I dredge the pain of life anew
and wallow in the grain of cheaper wares, 
degrade myself and blame fate, for my strife,
ignoring all God's gift, so loud I cry, 
as salted tears stain trails of my despair.
If only, I had been a better wife
I'd not be sitting here. 



Form: Curtal Sonnet [A precurser to the Italian Sonnet]
abcabcdbcd c [10 1/2 lines]

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012

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Pining

The knots have knots…God?
Threads of needing, want, desire;
passion spent on barren sod
left to burn on flaming pyre.

God, the knots have knots?
Nodes and nodules, full of spoor,
planted upon poisoned plots
hoarding, warmth, desire and more…

God, the knots have knots! 
Pulse, and pump; push, and explore
lose the beastly cankerous clots 
excrete angst, open the pore,

Free the knots, God, please…
By root and rote, the seedling pleads.


Contest: Me Against Myself
Date 6/30/11
D. Guzzi

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011

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A Bipolar Cliche

Life as a manic-depressive's so drab
and wearying at times; it's quite enough
to drag me down where I don't feel so tough.
When manic I have the rare gift of gab;
at such times, I wish I can take a cab
to the club, get drunk, and act like a rough;
but I don’t as I fear the state's rebuff;
so, I behave like a rat in their lab.
My life's so meaningless to me it seems;
if I could I would end it right away,
but that'd be taking it to such extremes
and drama. Instead, I just read all day
and craft poems of more humorous, droll themes:
I wish I weren’t a bipolar cliché!



Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2015

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Abyss

In dreary, darkest dread of deep despair
I find myself without a saving grace.
Poe's pendulum of pain prevents my prayer
from rising upward through the dead of space.

Within these walls a war where no one wins
repeats itself just like a worn out rhyme.
No soldier should succumb to swinish sins, 
for he who does the crime must do the time.

There was a time tranquility held true,
yea, in that day I dreamt without restraint.
Remembering these reveries renews
my hope for life that's lived with more constraint.

For now I dwell inside this cursed abyss
a captive soul who longs for heaven's bliss.








Copyright © July Morning | Year Posted 2017

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The Philosopher's Sonnet

Others are born, the lost are burried
Life is a journey not to be hurried
But whats wit if the wise are mute
And who is beauty if she is not yet born

Mom said to not sugar
But if she is to be believed
Then pigs do fly, and wings lie
The plains, they speak of a time long gone

Dad said to not blow my horn.
But tomorrow took my horn, so why say he
The preacher said death is an illusion 
Then where is grandpa?

The night is so dark and cold.
But i shall wait for another sunrise.



 

Copyright © Maurice Lamony | Year Posted 2017

Details | Italian Sonnet |

Lost

I can feel it in my nose,
I can feel it in my fingers,
I can feel it in my toes,
My certain end currently lingers.
I've lost my will to fight,
Bitter cold despite my blanket.
Maybe because the covers white,
Not sure how much longer i can take it.
Lost and forgotten, 
No idea were I lay.
A rock in place of cotton, 
Snow in place of hay.
I look to the Flurry
Contemplating its power.
My mind fills with fury,
On my final hour.
When I try to move all I do is cry,
For when lost in winter your only option is die.

Copyright © Jacob Smith | Year Posted 2014

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THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN

      THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN     
        February 13, 1945
Pathfinders lit the night to show the way
for bombardiers too hungry for the word;
as Dresden's dark was made as light as day,
all hearts were stopped before the blasts were heard;

and as the din was heard by all their ears
the sound it made was not reality
but far removed from all the hopes and fears
and what they thought would never come to be.

They loved the Fuhrer--sin enough for all
to die the fiery death of sweet revenge
brought on by those who had enough of gall
to drop their loads in wartimes heated binge!

       And when the fire consumed all that it could
        the winter of their lives was understood.

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2012

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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.

Copyright © Jeremy Lin | Year Posted 2012

Details | Italian Sonnet |

Waiting For Lonely Morning

You didn’t come that dreadful night
Or in the morning with the rain
Even through all my pain
You didn’t come, with all your light
You didn’t come to bring me might
And as though my loss were your gain
You didn’t come, you did refrain
From coming to take away my fright

And now my heart is cold and bare
And now you may come and see
That no love could be harbored there
And  this is what I will always be
Because you didn’t come and didn’t care

©Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.

Copyright © Glory Winzer | Year Posted 2015

Details | Italian Sonnet |

The Pretender

I just found out that you are not a friend,
I try so much to show you affection,
instead you present me with dejection,
Sorrows and joy are difficult to blend,
I thought our mingling will have a good end,
Lies and malice have been your selection
coupled with theft leading to rejection,
Vices covered with smiles just to pretend.

Deadly intentions hidden from the eyes,
To control and rule others you aspire,
Your kindness and sweet words are in disguise,
Your evil thoughts and deeds put me on fire,
making some probes and problems to arise,
This quagmire and pain,I do not desire.

Copyright © olusegun Arowolo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Italian Sonnet |

Riding Through the Night

Above the clouds, beyond the tree she stays.
Remaining thus, the moon is chaste for now,
Allowing not her well-worn face to show
The many scars belying better days.
I glide along, my wheelchair making way
For no man here, the streets bereft of flow,
Garages closed to keep their cars in stow.
I roam the night, while they may share the day.

Secluded thus I flee from ghosts untold
Who question where my life has gone astray
While broken paths and other wrecks unfold.
I’m lost and cannot seem to find my way
Toward peace of mind, a way out of the cold;
The growing mist thus edging joy away.

Copyright © Ken Crawford | Year Posted 2014

Details | Italian Sonnet |

My Depression

Some days I see the rain clouds coming in
Then pull my head beneath this turtle shell
The world outside takes on a fetid smell
And all the vivid colors bleed and blend
Each sound that's heard enters right through my skin
The madness feels just like an ocean swell
I'm sinking like a rock and I can tell
Then suddenly I am my lonely twin
There is no room for love inside my heart
Pure wretchedness becomes my only friend
I feel the loss of all my normal senses
Withdrawing to my hideout in the dark
The strain of never knowing when it ends
Confuses me with past and present tenses



   an original poem by Daniel Turner "poemdog"

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

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Purple Haze

No more this verdant sight no more the sound
No more the heart of mist at nature’s dawn
No more victims of constant pressure found
No more the fool of man’s enactment borne.

To worship a foundation so ancient
The last bastion of one’s ancestor
Then one bears scars of prudence so poignant
When complied to appease the molester.

Our Fathers who wove within nature’s loom
So soon eras of memories destroyed
When at the mercy of Europe’s new broom
Leaving many dreams retrenched redeployed.

Hearts and minds linger still at Purple Haze
Ghostly cascades of falling tears amaze!


For all the farmers systematically force from their lands 
in a orchestrated albeit subtle way
after the UK joined the European common market 1970's
A Poem about of one of those farms "Purple Haze"


 © Harry J Horsman 2010

Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2011

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Purpose

I wake filled with anxiety and despair
My body aches and is full of pain
My first thought is of what is not there
There is nothing I can do to stop the thoughts in my brain

I go to the medicine cabinet to take a pill for anxiety
But still my mind reels with thoughts of what I want
Why must I put this burden upon me
I’m trapped in a life where I must be nonchalant

As the day goes on it just gets worse 
There’s a nagging feeling that I’m not me
My mind and body beginning to hurt
I hide inside myself so no one can see

Will I ever release myself from this hell
As of today there’s no way to tell


Copyright © Kirstie Fontes | Year Posted 2008

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Blood Moon

BLOOD MOON
Tis not our fare to see the face of God
Nor speak in tounge to those who never hear,
They dare not come and go, is this not odd
as some would please, forgetting how to fear?

And also, let us hear it, one more thing,
we'll tremble to our end, if gazing on this moon,
some say is painted blood, to look will bring
an agony that won't leave us too soon.

The eyes must turn away, or die the death,
and leave one bitter cold from just the dare
to look on it, to see the dragon's breath,
'twil bring one to believe what's never there.

And lunar madness never calls to mind
the evil waiting there for you to find. 
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2014

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MOTHER'S LITTLE KILLERS

MOTHER’S LITTLE KILLERS

She hates them, the unguent power
Which sticks her fairy wings together
Making impossible the ivory tower
Of disinterested passion, the if and whether

Of generic names, the ultimate aloneness.
The honest answer is to unstick
The loathsome epithets accompanying the mess
Let her soul free with a lexographic brick

As she goes on her desert train to limbo -
Grant her freedom to ride into the dusk
Without turning her into a soulless bimbo,
Pills shedding the epigrammatic husk,

Cavorting in the lunar satellite,
A spaced monkey too drugged to fight

Copyright © Rosemarie Rowley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Italian Sonnet |

When Fantasy Overcomes Reality

My heart is writing on a tear soaked page
Love is vicious and life is so unfair
Truth is, the more you love the more you care
You figure it out, your last act on stage
When love teases, the heart becomes enraged
Then strikes back for getting caught unprepared
Punishing you for being unaware
Leaving you lost and lonely in a maze
Sometimes dreams can be a dangerous thing
Fantasy overcomes reality
The heart starts to ache for what used to be
You feel sharp pain from love's poisonous sting
Once again you become a casualty
Find yourself asking the question, Why me?



  an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

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Sea of Unrest

A weight bound tight inside of her prison, Does no man acquire the strength that's due? She sinks down deep as high tide has risen, As her figure's swallowed by darkest blue Resignating, do her lungs open so, Oh, how she opens the gate to her death; Crushed by the pressure, she rocks to and fro', Not even with closure of one last breath The waves crash above and smother below, It was the blackest of waters she'd known; Suddenly, pressure was letting her go, And the most loveliest light was then shown A pair of hands came for me, cold and wet; Eyes upon me, and but a lovers set.

Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2012