The following are various poems I’ve written for myself when I’ve been depressed. The “Shadow” refers to the archetypal counterpart. This can be seen as an extension of oneself and can be referred to as the Jungian Shadow or as a Lover. The language varies in and out of romantic undertones but is ultimately about the integration of perspectives.

For My Shadow #1,
By Son of Sonnet

A child may learn a form of love, agape,
And I am dutiful to help your shape.
Though I am not a light and feel it burn,
Together you and I will strive to learn.
I wish to see you flourish in your spot,
Entrancing audience with eager plot.
A level head and cheerful gaze will see,
Whatever happens, you can look to me.

For My Shadow #2
By Son of Sonnet

I know that you are scared to try,
And also know the reason why.
You have my hand, you have my love,
So both of us can rise above.
Each risk a chance, each risk a bet:
Sometimes rejection means "not yet."
Today is prime to take a chance.
Fulfillment's not for happenstance.

For My Shadow #3
by Son of Sonnet

Despair is heavy, and it may persist,
...

Read by Miranda McGee

But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify your self in your decay
With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair,
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
To give away yourself, keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

Read by Miranda McGee

When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night,
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.

In the interest of keeping Locals relevent to my routine, I want to try this slow but steady pacing.

Tuesdays, I will post asking supporters to request a theme for a poem. If there is no request, I won't necessarily write a new poem.

Thursdays, the poem for the requested prompt that I choose will be released on paid platforms first.

Saturday, I will follow up with a voiceover of the poem, as well as any edits it may have received.

Happy Times
for Grandpa
by Son of Sonnet

I often dream of happy times.
The gentle breeze and twinkling chimes.
A cooling drink and summer day,
A splendid feast and toast to say.

The days I held my wife with love,
all witnessed by our God above.
A house in which I earned my place,
but counted with the gifts of grace.

I carry with me all I know,
and say my cup doth overflow.
My grateful soul I show to thee,
and hope these blessings that you'll see.

One's Own Master
by Son of Sonnet
for Joe

My place had been to serve another's aim,
but they would often disrespect my name.
These passions in my heart I tempered still,
to give a courtesy to other's will.

Now free I am, let shackles be released,
for I am more than burden's beast.
My path shall now become the thing I choose.
No loss of self respect to win and lose.

I grow with wisdom every time I try,
with more to seek and know than when to die.
Let me be me, and let the tale be sewn.
This future is the way that I will own.