Black dog
half opened eyes
counting sheep one by one
asleep before I hit the bed
sleepy
The Old Black Dog. Dave Taylor.
It refuses to die, this old black dog.
Matted and lame but on misery he thrives.
Makes existence, seem one, long, slog.
How long `till it curls up and dies.
Even on days, when in line with the shame.
Of feeling downcast, and pitiful.
Just wishing there was other, than my mind to blame.
And soothing words, prove far from helpful.
When malicious whispers, in cold tones say.
“Face the truth, you are UNTERMENSCHEN!!!!”
And dark forces, hold me in sway.
The lone host, of their ill attentions.
The triumph for me is to stay in the fight.
Wait out the dark, and know it won`t stay.
Hold hard for the sun, to illumine my sight.
And cast myself into the fray!!!!
The dog may bark, but it`s lost its bite.
And I can take, it`s toothless grin.
Knowing in the end, all shall be right.
If I don`t allow the black dog in.
Jazz piano plays
in the coffeehouse
Friends old and new
sit together
talk listen
Through the window
I see the sun set
on the lake
watch lovers
walk hand in hand
and remember
a time when I too
walked hand in hand
with my lover
around the same lake
love in my heart
jazz in my soul
Tonight the
piano plays
a lifetime of memories
Today, I woke up sad and blue;
and feeling somewhat out of sorts.
My mood is dark for sure it's true
sometimes so down I feel that's true.
Maybe, today I'll just stay home
perhaps I'll rest in bed and read.
Won't take my 'black dog' out to roam
just, tie him up so he can't roam.
Somethings in life I can control
but, 'black dog' visits me sometimes.
Then I slide down the big black hole
so, have to climb out from that hole.
My melancholic deep abyss
when mood swings take me up and down.
Ignore this state must not dismiss
my feeling therefore can’t dismiss
Some soothing music I might play
to lighten up my darkened soul.
It may help chase the blues away
I hope they soon will go away.
Let all my worries take a hike
Relax, unwind my troubled soul.
Regain myself, I can for sure
I’ve had the practice that’s for sure.
And when I do 'black dog' be gone
I'll smile again my blues have gone.
Black dog
I enjoy my own company more than most
I am far from normal.
I am at peace with the paranormal.
I sit in the darkness talking to ghosts.
I am the voice inside your head,
talking you into contemplating jumping off the ledge.
I am the pistol pressed against your temple .
I am the rope around your neck.
I am you crawling through broken glass on 2 broken knees.
I am your fear, I am your truth, i am your trauma.
I am your illness.
I am your disease.
Written by Adrian Bogdal.
Trying to live by imaginary rules,
We believe we have to follow,
Only to think we're always failing,
Left feeling useless, empty and hollow.
With eyes red raw and burning,
From all the tears that's been cried,
Your demons begin to take control,
Stealing your soul and self pride.
Nightmares haunt you if you sleep,
Drowning in darkness through the day,
Happiness now becomes a distant memory,
Not knowing when you last felt that way.
Eating away at your contentment,
Suffocating your brain with black fog,
It can hijack you at any moment,
The paralysing curse of the black dog.
Its raven skin follows without a 'woof,'
no bark no bite,
darker than a shadow in sunlight.
It reflects in the mirror,
staring with 'Edgar Allan Poe,' ebony eyes.
At dawn it's at the bedside,
wanting to wander into the morning mist.
At twilight it rests its head on my pillow,
stalking, into my sleep.
It sits on the passenger seat,
without a seatbelt, unfocused,
unconcerned, like it has no need to exist.
It plods slowly around the office,
slumping forward, back curved like a 'jack knife.'
Colleagues ignore its obsidian paws,
sore from scabs, resting on the desk.
Its head droops with my sullen, dull ache.
Its tongue looks rough, no saliva drips -
a bit like my cracked lips.
We both seem to breathe in dry air,
as it feeds on my molasses mind.
It has no interest in sticks nor treats,
nor cares to leave my side.
A sinister magnetic faithfulness.
Unmoved, as I vomit black bile.
I wonder how is he a man's best friend?
He was prone to falling into his own shadow.
Sunlight beat upon his sheltering mind
forcing him to flee deeper into a phantom night
that lived like an unspoken secret in daylight.
When the 'black dogs' teeth bit it always seemed very sorry.
It hung its head and walked by his side ashamed and contrite
yet the bite festered for days anyway
until the shadow died from its own pitiful death.
Depression is not a thing, not even a cloud.
It’s a wish to be a better failure. a stronger hypocrite.
Of course most will never admit this
and that is why that black dog will be your friend for life.
Coloured Dogs
Grey is the dog that haunts and whines;
Whose boredom curls, whose mist entwines;
Whose ennui dulls a lively mind,
Whom inspiration deadens.
Blue is the dog that grips the heart -
Turns melancholia into art,
Who tears the light of hope apart,
And drowns all joy and laughter.
Yellow’s the dog who runs and hides,
Who shrinks from life’s high winds and tides.
Whom confidence and hope deride,
Whom cowardice disables.
Red is the dog whose fury roars,
Rejecting peace, extolling war.
Destroying all and seeking more,
With anger all-consuming.
Of all the dogs, Black is the Beast,
Grey, Blue, Red, Yellow, all released;
Descending on the mind to feast,
And turn the soul to ashes.
This pack of coloured dogs is mine.
I hear their bays, know every whine.
And to their states I must resign.
It is my lot, my fortune.
The black dog is prowling around
Just quietly without a sound
The dog sniffs here and there
Who it gets it doesn’t care
It licks your hand just to say
I am not going to go away
And when you’re feeling low
In it jumps and steals the show.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Black Dog
Black dog black dog
Where did you go ?
Your once ebony muzzle
Now white as snow.
Black dog black dog
Where did you go ?
Your once easy gait
Now halted and slow.
Black dog black dog
Where did you go ?
Your bright brown eyes
Are losing their glow.
Black dog black dog
Where have you gone ?
I’m here by your side
Right where I belong.
A black dog has got hold of her again.
She sponges her face
to a more rigid mask of brightness.
She has been depressed before
but this trench she trudges through
is full of muddied water
and she cannot find a way out.
At work she has to teach her hands
to do things
she has done a thousand times before.
Then there is the mirror,
she cleans and wipes it constantly
but at each glace she sees
her face blurring
as it leaves for nowhere.
She eats alone,
The restaurant erupts
with an air-conditioned laughter
that makes her head spin.
She drinks alone,
then fills the empty wine glass
with salty tears.
She is not sorry for herself,
she is sorry for the black dog
that slinks in and out of her mind
looking to be fed,
but she will not feed it,
she must watch it starve
while she slowly climbs
up and over
her own daily bereavement.
My little black dog is turning gray
with white hairs sprouting in spots
He still likes to play and rushes the fray
and his happy yapping never stops
The years have for him been kind
how longer will my little friend survive
For all things will end too soon in time
in doggy years he is one hundred and five
Still he must follow me all about
when speaking on the phone too long
My little censor will bark a protest shout
it's time for him is he yaps his little song
He wakes me in the morning
with wagging tail and doggy kiss
He sleeps with me a snoring
by my side each night he insists
If I sit on the front porch to rest
he wants me to hold him up to see
If I ignore him a yapping will persist
until I hold him up high next to me
My little black dog with shades of grey
and white hairs are blending in
If with me he can no longer stay
in heaven will he become my little white doggy friend
Or in Paradise with Glory and eternal life
do we become all young and new
My little black dog yapping in Paradise
with his coat black and shiny anew
The black dog
I don’t always sing a happy song
The black dog bites and I’m all gone
And I can’t see the sunshine then
Wasted days are not my friend
So I wait for it to pass
To make me want my life to last
There is no need to contemplate
When all you can do is sit and wait
So I see others with lives so clear
And I wonder how I get to there
Who makes the decision meant for me
When all I want is to live life free.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Morning again without sleep,awake on the quilt,where are the pills?
Nightmares shadow lingers in the mind,like under the sea,full of ills.
They come at night mostly at night anxious thoughts panic,
Is there anyone else awake?walking beneath the sma hours stars,
Sweat freezing on brow howling in ears chasing round the fears,
He sits and waits with lolling tongue breath misting in air,
Red eyes spark anticipating the chase,white teeth sharp,
Hair raisng like wooden stalks pointed with death at their tip
Do i want to be here within this fractious crowd?
Scared to go to sleep,scared to be awake,
Panic within need to run and be alone,
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.