They told me I had to sit,

talk, pour my life’s worth

into a strange ear.



I stretched on faux leather, thinking

about making chilli-

what the kids needed for school.


Slid down the sofa –


Not clinically depressed?

Bipolar?                  No.



Then I cried

18 responses to “Freud

  1. Yeah…I dig that…oh boy…love it when “professionals” try to pigeonhole you into a textbook definition of depression. Damn it! Ya hit the nail on the head…Lonliness is painful but very different from “clinical depression.” …and puppies won’t cure it. Ya need a fella…and I wish it to ya. :)) xo

  2. We all seek to know what the hell is wrong with us, don’t we? Need to define why we aren’t happy. And sometimes when we find out that it’s just Life being Life, steered and stirred by our chain of decisions…Whoo! I cried, too. Love this, Nightingale! xox ~ j

  3. Awww, Sharnie, Sharnie, Sharnie (where did I get that from!), if I were an unattached fella (and considerably younger) I’d come and give you a big squeezy hug and a snuggle on the faux settee! But I’m not so I just wish you what you wish for, my lovely.

  4. Oh, by the way, this poem is surprisingly moving. I say surprisingly, because, whilst the first ten lines compelled me to read on, it was the last that struck me like a broad sword in the sternum; brought a lump and a tear.

Put me out of my misery people!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s