Face your Demons

2002 was a bad year. I was put through a bit of a mincer. My emotions ended in tatters and I was depressed though not clinically depressed, just hacked off by events. It is clear to me that emotions are the key to poetry composition.
One November morning I sat down at eight o’clock in the morning and started to write a sonnet. I wrote seven in quick succession. On finishing the seventh I looked up at the clock it was twenty eight minutes past eight. I have not since amended these sonnets in any way.
To me they show the powers of emotions as a creative force even in bleak times.

Seven Sonnets to Melancholy

Sonnet 1
We are in Hell

Now is the time to let your Hopes fade out
Weep, cry, bewail and shout of all your pain
For with true pain there is no room for doubt
Give in, despair and don’t get up again
Sink down, abandon hope and life and breath
Embrace the cruel who in the end are kind
Accept a pointless futile slide to death
An ending of the torments of the mind
Rejoice in all the freedom that’s to come
The chaos of existence has an end
The game will not lead to a zero sum
Nor have its answers ever yet been penned
‘Abandon hope all you who enter here’
But as you leave then it is time to cheer

Sonnet 2
Cheating Hope

The soul when carried to the heights of joy
By music or by all the sounds of spring
No retching, no, nor vomiting could cloy
Delusions are so sure and pure a thing
They can take grip upon a healthy brain
All joys are there to hide a lethal bite
For happiness and hope are all in vain
To fall we must first climb up to a height
The higher we climb further we may fall
But further that we fall more is the hurt
Great pain comes when we’ve listened to Hope’s call
And ended with a face trod in the dirt
There’s nothing in this life that will stay sweet
For all our Hopes may be naught but a cheat

Sonnet3
Fading of delusion

The fading of delusions from the mind
The Faith, the Hope, the Love that’s not to be
The dawning of the truths that are unkind
But bring us to what we at last must see
There is no point at all within this life
There’s no respite from all the hurt and stress
No point in all the work and all the strife
It’s meanings are beyond the wildest guess
We fathom in the depths that have no light
We seek and search we poke and look and pry
And dream that we might even win the fight
But in the end we are all left to cry
For life’s a smear that’s left a nasty stain
When we’ve left here there is an end to pain

Sonnet 4
At end we’re all forgot

As he surveys the wreckage of his life
And looks upon the ruin of all Hope
The Vanity of all that pointless strife
There is no point in seeming now to cope
Just like the cargo of a shattered ship
Hope’s strewn along the shore line of disgrace
Despair is there its cup is at his lip
And failure stalks him now in this new place
A fool he was to strive and seek for right
A clown he was to try to help the weak
All must cave in before an unjust might
There’s victory for the thief, the cheat, the sneak
Delusion and illusion are the lot
It’s vain to strive – at end – we’re all forgot

Sonnet 5
Hope is a cheat

Oh, be at peace the failure is complete
The bitterness can fade to pure despair
For there is nothing now that will be sweet
The loss is total here and everywhere
There is no need to try and fight and strive
No point at all in futile emptiness
This strange state that some call ‘to be alive’
Yet is in truth an empty wilderness
That flickers its illusions for each soul
Then cheats each out of its more wholesome state
And with each neat delusion truth is stole
And lost in all the mists of hope and hate
To fail in life is what we all must do
For Fate’s no cheat – it’s Hope that can’t be true

Sonnet 6
We all end dead

Do not delude yourself to Hope at all
Nor strive, nor try, nor care for what is right
Deluded Hopes are like the Siren’s call
For hate and fate and power have the might
And in that sin of Hope all truth will fade
Vain striving is the straight way to the grave
It’s a delusion of a sunlit glade
There is no point at all in being brave
The one truth is that there’s futility
In thinking, acting, doing anything
And all, yes all, we know is Vanity
Despair is crowned eternally the king
The truth we know and has for long been said
No matter what we do we all end dead

Sonnet 7
The stain of hope

You shall not beat him now and he’ll not share
The victory that he won was his alone
And jealously he guards all his despair
For there will be no hope that he’ll condone
Despair must be complete and not held up
For failure is an art form that is true
Rejoice now as he drinks its poison cup
In his destruction there was nothing new
A nondescript and pointless failing man
A shadow of a hope of what might be
A loser in each race that he had ran
Delusion has a name, and it is – He
Behold, how all his life has been quite vain
False hopes are gone but they have left a stain

© Trevor Morgan 2002

Postscript

After putting all my misery down on paper my moods changed. When at the very top all roads lead down. I had been at the very bottom and there all roads were leading upwards to new and uncharted territory.

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