Monday, 28 March 2011


You watch me
Through those damn dewy eyes
That torment my soul
And steal
The very heart of me.

The warning growl
Through snarling teeth;
The putrid breath
Feeding despair
And souring hope.

You're are my black dog,
Forever vigilant.
There is no escape.

Damn your dewy eyes.

Anna :o]


blackdog said...

I didn't use my nom de plume for nothing Anna, as you may realise. Blackdog has haunted my soul for many years, snapping at my heels many times and then retreating to the shadows.

I confront him every day and banish him as often as I can. I now know that I am not my depression, I am a person both within and without it. The first lesson I learned is that I could have permission to be like this; It was understandable and acceptable in view of the reasons.

It got a bit easier after that, but it is a battle I fight almost every day. Blackdog has become my friend now because I keep him at a distance, but always remember he is there.

NorthernTeacher said...

Poignant: both the poem, Anna, and blackdog's comment above.

HyperCRYPTICal said...

Thanks for your comments blackdog and NT

Blackdog: Apologies for the delay in responding as I was aware of your comment yesterday. I felt it important to post todays post first as they are both related.

Although your comment made me sad, I have great admiration for you and the battle you fight. Although I have never suffered depression, I think it is true to say that it touches me and I perhaps experience it for a brief moment when talking to residents.

My hat is off to you!

NT: Thank you my friend and I hope you are now well settled in your new home!

Anna :o]

Friko said...

that's exactly how it is when he comes calling.
How did you manage to write this when you haven't experienced it?

HyperCRYPTICal said...

Hi Friko

I wrote with what residents share with me in mind; also pulled on my experience with PMT which hit me once a month from the age of thirty-eight - didn't believe in its existence before then!

For an approx 24hr period I suffered extremes of emotion - particularly irritability and anger (often seething). What I found very difficult was that I had no control over it - I could no more make it go away (it went when it was ready!) than I could prevent it coming. It owned me.

For me those days are long gone - but I tried to imagine what it would be like to feel like that all the time - the lack of control over my emotions and dwelling on things long past (which I did).

I have a great deal of respect for those who continuosly battle the black dog.

Anna :o]

Friko said...

"no control over it", that's it, that damn dog comes and goes as it pleases;
walking helps.

Promising Poets Parking Lot said...

depression is a black dog, divine metaphor.

Promising Poets Parking Lot said...

Welcome join us,

Thanks for the time,

Your poetry rocks.


HyperCRYPTICal said...

Thanks for your comments PPPL and the kind offer to join you!

I know this might sound pretentious - but I can't write poetry for the sake of it. I have to be inspired. Already missed one Magpie in the short time I have taken part as nothing came.

I shall certainly visit PPPL but feel I could not honour the commitments for the above reason and also the time factor - not many spare hours in my week!

Thanks again for your kind offer!

Anna :o]

John Buchanan said...

Hi Anna, sorry to hear you have a black dog too, I hope he is getting more mellow with age. My thoughts are with you.