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,
but through our happy practice, we resist.
Afraid of pain, you used to play it safe,
So not to make a stranger's feelings chafe.
I hope we can agree that this is true,
there's no one in the world that's quite like you.
Today I'm glad to say that you are mine.
The time will come I see you rise and shine.
For My Shadow #4
by Son of Sonnet
Goodnight, my love. We'll try again tomorrow
to meet each goal within the time we borrow.
You'll find a place and fellowship with men.
You'll work to be of value with your pen.
But most of all, I long to hear your voice,
to hear conviction in your act of choice.
Responsibilities we will accept,
For promises bring honor when they're kept.
For My Shadow #5
by Son of Sonnet
No matter why you want to pass the test,
Please let yourself find time to sit and rest.
Although the stillness fills your heart with dread,
That time you find to dream is found in bed.
You haven't failed; you're going to be fine.
The rest you take allows your heart to shine.
Forgive yourself, return to peace and calm.
Be grateful for the Passing of the Palms.
For My Shadow #6
by Son of Sonnet
Although it's hard, I know you'll make the change.
It's scary for our lives to rearrange.
Chaotic comforts in your life remain;
the guiding wind, the gentle sound of rain.
In Nature, though we be but weak and small,
we never lose the beauty of it all.
No matter how alone, remember this:
That you and I will be each other's bliss.
For My Shadow #7
by Son of Sonnet
If I could whisper in your ear,
these words are what I'd say.
You're gonna have to face your fears,
to live in your own way.
For My Shadow #8
by Son of Sonnet
The day is coming to an end,
and I will be around to tend
to you, my love. I wish to see
the person that you'll grow to be.
Each day you'll have another chance
to make your life a true romance.
The risks you take are worth the try,
for you're the apple of my eye.
To see a smile upon your face,
I'll hold you in my warm embrace.
For My Shadow #9
by Son of Sonnet
What may I say to you about your fear?
I feel the same as you, and I am here.
Do you hear me proclaim my faith in you?
No matter what, don't doubt those words are true.
You'll find your voice, and what a sound it be!
When we are holding hands, what do you see?
Can you accept my love, and raise your gaze?
Can you imagine how you will amaze?
Be sure of me, and take that crucial leap,
so you may live, and I with joy may weep.
For My Shadow #10
by Son of Sonnet
Endure, my love, the feelings in the storm.
It takes great stress for people to transform.
The lightning calls with thunder's booming voice,
so you may know the consequence of choice.
I know you wish to change the way you think,
so you and I may better interlink.
No matter what your struggles for your name,
the love I hold for you is just the same.
In thunderstorms, we drop our cheap facade,
kept safe by our foundation's lightning rod.
Although this storm may seem a dark abyss.
Each drop of rain reminds me of your kiss.
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.
Read by Miranda McGee
O! that you were your self; but, love, you are
No longer yours, than you your self here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give:
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination; then you were
Yourself again, after yourself's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might uphold,
Against the stormy gusts of winter's day
And barren rage of death's eternal cold?
O! none but unthrifts. Dear my love, you know,
You had a father: let your son say so.
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.
