Melancholy Spreads

skeletal branches,
sky shrouded in gloom dyed grey:
winter blues in spring

the clouds are too dark,
cocooned inside cold blankets…
she can’t see the light

a waterlogged heart
sobs under tomb of pillows:
melancholy spreads

for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 17 – Negativity Runs in Circles: Let your poetry show how negativity breeds more negativity breeds more negativity… (or not).

linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Transforming Fridays with Nature’s Wonders)

Melancholy Spreads

65 thoughts on “Melancholy Spreads

    • I visited the VA mental health unit the other day (I stop by a few times a month to see if anyone wants company or maybe are in the mood for some reading…). So many people, who have been admitted for severed depression, were just crying and crying… I kept thinking, This sounds like a storm…

  1. Melancholy is one word that my husband used to describe my mother… your poem here sums herself up pretty well… life wasn’t a bowl of cherries for my family.

  2. This is almost too beautifully written for its content–and I think that’s one of the charms of melancholy. Some people get a lot of mileage out of letting themselves down and talking aboout it while their friends try desparately to lift them. I have been guilty of that in the past, but now your poem has the opposite effect on me. It’s quite Shakespearean in the rhythmns of a different culture.

    • I’ve encounter a lot more of the opposite side of the coin, when it comes to this kind of deep sadness: most people (clients and some friends) don’t want to talk about their sad days or their depression. They have been shamed (by society, culture, family) for so long about it, or told that it is a sign of weakness, that they hide it… many times from themselves. The latter can be so dangerous, I think.

      “…Shakespearean in the rhythms of a different culture.” I like that. 😉

    • It might sound silly, but I never thought about it. That makes complete sense: many people wear layers and layers of clothing or get under the blankets when they are depressed because they are looking for the safety of a place where nothing can touch them: like the womb.

    • Really? I need to read more haiku… Most of the ones I’ve read speak of evolving nature, calmness and even mistaken meanings or intentions (from the side of the speaker or the subject). But I haven’t read a large selection of haiku.

      Happy International Haiku Day to you, too! ♥

    • Terrible things seem to look less frightening when we pull them from under the bed. And in some cases, like in this one, we can even help expose the monsters of friends… and then kick them together.

    • I didn’t know much about real depression until a friend of mine sat down and explained her feelings… Then I saw her… I heard her… I felt the coolness of her skin, the low light in her eyes… It was one of the most terrible things I’ve experienced. Mostly because there was so little, I could do for her. Since then, I’ve written a lot of poetry and fiction for her, and she says that knowing someone “sees” her, makes her feel better. I guess writing it makes me feel less useless when it comes to our friendship… if that makes any sense.

    • I’m all right, lol! This poem was mostly about the image outside my window. It just looked so gloomy for a spring day… And I guess it made me think of a friend who is going through hard times, at the moment.

      I was actually partying all day…

      Thank you for your kind words about this month’s progress. I’ve been enjoying your words, too. 🙂

  3. Melancholy can be our master or a thief that just sneaks in and takes, a weight or a relief after some event that must be grieved–it’s all part of life, but in some cases, it’s too strong, it *becomes* life, eats it up and leaves nothing–very visual and feeling words, Magaly. I was taking a day off yesterday, so late to the party.

    • Balance is key when it comes to this thing, methinks. But I suspect that when a soul is in the true dumps, they can’t see their way out… We should always be watchful, in case someone we love needs that bit of light towards a bit of peace.

      All these makes me thing of the beloved Robin Williams…

  4. The skeletal branches and the tomb of pillows. I’m a sucker for a little cemetery prose, you know. It’s why I was so gushy about the “vault” picture you posted. This is like. Gloomy and Heavy and all in the right moderation… that is to say… no moderation. Because gloom should never be moderate.

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