The Breakfast Table

The placemat lies lonely in place,

wishing to see a second face.

The sun eats away at the fog of dawn

making clear the way for the dew-walk of the fawn.

The morning delights of the butterfly and bird,

the skipping of stones, sliced water barely heard.

Drip, drop, crackle, drip,

the coffee aroma hastens the first awakening sip.

Steam from the toaster, the table is set,

the currant and strawberry jams placing their bet..

The lion-like faces of the colourful pansies

decorate the room with the raw life that one fancies.

The literary piece awaits the turning of pages,

offering escape into a world of past ages........

The Face of Insidious Darkness

My name is depression, invader of minds,

proudly producing plan-strangling vines.

I sow seeds of guilt, doubt and fear,

procrastinating in everything, even the dropping of a tear.

Discouragement is my claim to fame, I wrote the Ugly Game

I might get dressed but it won't be pretty, make-up and accessories look at me with pity.

My occupation is destruction with a phD in lies

feeding into a rapid, emotional demise.

I'm irritable at best, showing passion in anger,

leave me alone and I increase in languor.

I live in isolation, keeping friends with anxiety,

I hurry to do nothing, nothing without worry.

I paint pictures of impossibilities,

giving much thought to relational atrocities.

Evading sleep unless it's in a bed of nightmares knee deep,

heavy-hearted,  leaving one only to weep.

I am rich in loss and clothed in sadness,

ever reminded of fossilized gladness.

Chewing on the past, the flavour is gone,

just as stuck with each new dawn.

I'm left in the dark, far from the light

for if people see me, they run with all their might.

I sneak into places I haven't been invited,

feeling esteemed when grief is ignited.

Rejection is the crown I wear

having no reserve to help others bear:

Failure