Metaphor Depression Poems | Examples
These Metaphor Depression poems are examples of Depression poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Depression Metaphor poems written by international poets.
If my despair can sink ships like a storm,
and my shores are consumed by tidal gloom,
like apples spoiled by a devouring worm,
where rot and mind's decay lead to my doom,
then its poison prevents me from relief
and cure—and the escape from manic death!
This weight of sorrow crushes out my life,
and drains from my lungs God's life-giving breath.
But thou, sweet Rose, restore my soul and joy.
(Grant me your healing grace, your balm, your light.)
If fate grants me one more thing to enjoy,
it is your hand that holds me through the night.
Though life's despair may never quite depart,
I live because you hold me in your heart.
DRIFTING
Adrift without an anchor
Leaking like a faucet
Couldn’t sing even in church
But still I held the hymnal
And stood anyway
In a place without you
After you left
I couldn’t sleep easily
But my cat helped
Because you were gone
I unexpectedly cried at times
I truly required you,
Somebody to keep hold of
In a blurry reality
In a vessel without
Oars and engines
Down a river
Drifting further each day
Please Return
Even if it’s as someone else
I loved you so much
I should’ve told you more often
My bait is cast
But no fish are biting
And I’m drifting.
Is this poetry or medicine...the border blurs
A whispered line can calm what fear obscures
A verse becomes a tincture for the mind
Restoring quiet places stress unbinds
Each metaphor a balm for hidden ache
Each rhythm steadying what strain might break
Ink turns to breath where heavy thoughts reside
A gentle pulse that lifts the weighted tide
So call it art or healing…both are true
The poem repairs what life has torn in you
It’s news to me, that it’s news to you,
Accept my change, ‘for I bid it adieu;
Out of the void, and there’s no turning back,
I’m not insane, just good ol’ handsome jack.
I could go on, but it’s starting to drag,
I feel brand new, and I don’t mean to brag,
but…
If you can’t see, that you’re all to blame,
Look in the mirror, then you can take aim,
It can’t be me, for I am brand new,
So once again, let me bid you adieu,
I do not want, the life that I once had,
Please don’t protest princess, you’ll just get sad,
My divinity is past infinity,
Can’t reclaim my virginity,
Am I—
getting through to you?
Cleanse thyself in the black river.
A violent current, poisoned by radiation.
Let it absorb your waste.
Thou hast proven thyself.
Ambition, determination, and rage.
Now, arise from this sludge.
You lacked focus,
you were easily distracted.
But now, that glorious purpose has awoken.
As the river disappears,
there stood the fearless prince,
casting necromancy across the lifeless soil.
An army built on foundations of determination,
skeletons with unfinished ambition,
and the mighty prince,
consumed by the rage of shadow and flame.
The urge to join the dead of night.
A call of the abyss, illusions in the dark.
Voices, are they talking to me?
Can they hear me?
Inside my mind, something is rotten.
Something has gone bad.
The eyes, the window to the soul.
Time to shut that window.
Vocal cords slain by black scissors,
A dark mist ascends with each breath.
Heavy breathing, a poisonous odor.
The infection spreads.
It’s taken the limbs — and with them, the pain.
As I drift off into the void,
I am graced by silence.
A soul lost to infestation.
Those scars, a work of art drawn with a chainsaw.
Rise, gate to Hades.
Broken arrows lay upon collapsed ruins,
mile high trees covered with ash and snow.
Let yourself fall quietly asleep at the entrance.
Tombs of the ancestors tainted with silver tongues,
no more false prophets.
Blood and fire, rose color ruin.
Destroy these walls with your echoes
with those beautiful screams, break it, smash it apart.
Vete al diablo.
Self destruction?
So, that is how you’ve chosen to end this battle.
That is not beautiful.
This so called Hades you saw
is nothing compared to what I have gone through,
living in a world of complete utter darkness.
‘The sadness will last forever’
But it will define me never
Inspired by Death Bed Poetry: Vincent Van Gogh by Iza Garcia Alonso, 2025
Mind's minute mirage may muffle,
But biding by blinding brings burns.
Severely she'll sunder, so scuffle,
'Til tomorrow, tomorrow turns.
I don't take one side or two
In disputes about who’s right
And who’s wrong – it could be you
Or it could be me tonight
But the next day it may turn
The other way round, the pendulum
Swings and all I had to learn
Will be lost in setting sun
Now the nightmares get too real
Heroes drop their marble masks
Neanderthals tore down the deal
With the Pithecanthropus
And the Cro-Magnons are baffled
Why does it have to start again?
Reptiles shed the skin and set
The new manual for the brain
Don’t attach me to the schemes
That you treasure or despise
I’m the mantis in your dreams
Far beyond thy truths or lies.
Even the darkest night will end
And the sun will rise
Will you come to see me then
I’ll be quite surprised
Same as you - what an encounter
You would giggle at me
Love, it seems that I have found you
I’d reply to thee
The harsh reality, however
Extends that miserable night
Though the sun beats down like never
In its dazzling summer light
There’s no sign of us together
Like sometime we used to be
And too tall has grown the heather
On the path to copper tree.
Rising To The Occasion
Awakening peace,
yearning resurrection,
lays in depression:-
We must respond to her needs
with enlightening awareness:-
Why promote wrecking-ball malice
Behind the wall of a palace?
This callous man sick
Acts like a big dick
To cover up his small phallus
Like a can of pop overflowing,
Pent up emotions in me overtaking,
Old feelings saturating the newest feeling,
Afraid of when the table will start turning.
Like the cola soda covering
A table in which I am patiently waiting,
I am as usual finding my feelings confusing,
This metaphor is staining my well-being.
Like the cold hard thin metal lining,
I am lost again in my own mindscaping,
Chill to the core despite my inner shining,
Thanks to the sacred herb I was smoking.
Like my favourite drinks I'm always drinking,
Always recycling every thought and feeling,
Just so I can avoid telling everything,
Yet still hoping someone sees I need saving.
Reflected grief spat back at me to bear
Another load, the double of my own
To take and carry, this unholy pair
Then tripled, multiplied, beneath I groan.
A beast of burden hauling my bloated
Carriage, cut into with refracted shards.
Whipped for my pain, heavier I’m loaded
Pile after pile, the crown a house of cards.
I tread with caution over broken ground,
The tottering deck threatening to fall,
Step after step and though my wounds are bound
The load cuts deeper, I stumble and fall.
Impaled on broken ground, I’m laid in state.
Now. Did I this predicament create?