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This Poem was Submitted By: stephen g skipper On Date: 2005-11-06 09:12:10 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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October Blues

Stooping low I bend and pick up my now familiar blanket of dark depression. She’s warm and soft muffling life’s demands as a mother would protect her young surrogate created. She waits patiently a single tear enough to signify possible return from the wings. It seemed I had cast her down such a short time ago sanity waits for no man. An innocent crying inspires me to attempt non-surrender hesitant childlike steps. Look for me in the morning light.

Additional Notes:
This was written over a coffee with my wife after a visit to my shrink. (it is how it was written except not on a napkin)

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2005-12-04 11:58:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.43860
Dear Stephen As a regular shrink-goer myself, I tried to feel my way into this on that basis. The closest I got was "familiar blanket/of dark depression". "Hesitant child-like steps." That's exactly how I've experienced my "progress". I wish you luck. Damn it, I wish ME luck!! Mark

This Poem was Critiqued By: Duane J Jackson On Date: 2005-12-03 09:27:04
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.60714
Hi Stephen, Depression. Been there and will return again. This poem is deeper than the surface simplicity it projects. In an unusual (but very real and true) twist, you seem to allude to depression as the blanket of protection. I too have often thought of it on these terms - as much as I hate the feeling. It serves as a channel in which to vent our sorrows, creates a world in which we have an existence - the real wordl can be very cruel at these times. Isolation is sweet - sometimes. The image of your blanket of dark depression and its desire to warm and comfort you is stark. I especially like the hesitant childlike steps. It gives us a profound sense of the feeling you seek to portray. I read recently in a forum post that you were contemplating an end to your poem submissions here. Please dont!! After all, you are the author of one of the all time favorite poems on tpl - not everyone can take a pair of shoes and turn it into a poem :-) Take care, Duane.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-11-29 19:59:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.95000
Steve: You give us a napkin-written poem that belies its hastily-written origins. Chances are it was years in the writing. You begin on a ‘low’ note, but end with the suggestion to the reader to look for you ‘in the morning light.’ You circumscribe the October Blues to a limited field of play. I believe your poetic depiction of depression as protective is apt and moving. You could not have hit upon a more apropos title for this reader than the one you have chosen, but for personal reasons. ‘Blues’ are some of my favorite music and the color amongst my most preferred. A poem about the blues has a great appeal and yours is fresh. I especially enjoy your description of her as a blanket “warm and soft/muffling life’s demands/as a mother would protect her young/surrogate created.” What about our psyche knows the limits of our endurance and how to protect us? I have something I call “Black Irish” moods from time to time. A fearsome bout of ‘blues’ I suppose inherited from my Irish grandmother who was given to fits of temper along with continuous quotation of her favorite poets. She had a line of poetry for every nuanced feeling, and if not, she’d paint. I basked in her approval and fled from her moods. It’s funny, how your poem recalls her to me vividly. She was born in October, but that’s probably not the reason. I think she would have enjoyed this poem. An innocent crying inspires me to attempt “non-surrender” -- I like the unexpected quality of this phrase hesitant childlike steps. We do attempt to shoulder our burdens and not give in completely to despair. I love the tender way you accept your crying as ‘innocent’ for truly it is, and identifying the steps taken as ‘childlike’ adds to the authenticity and gentle quality of this poem. Many would do well to observe the speaker’s stance. “Look for me in the morning light.” Lovely, indeed. Many thanks for this. Well done! Best to you, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-11-27 18:03:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.68421
Stephen, I don't know if I'm heading the right direction with this: You have depression,it keeps you safe like a security blanket. You hold it dear and tightly. After a visit to the shrink, which helped you free up a bit, You hope to become more 'real' unencumbered by sadness/depression. The morning light is hope. Hope you can come back to the living. I like: non-surrender hesitant childlike steps. We all take little steps at first. Good expressive poem, we all can relate to. title's appropriate. Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-11-25 10:41:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
Ah Stephen, I feel for you and understand your plight. I know sunlight isn't good for the drugs you are taking but put lots of block on and perhaps you will get some small comfort. It's great to see that you are writing and educating those that don't know of your insidious disease. You laid out the piece very well, and of course the title is appropriate. "Picking up the blanket of dark depression" says it all so well from your eyes, your viewpoint. Stay healthy my friend.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-11-08 23:33:07
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Steven, October Blues [enticing title] Stooping low I bend and pick up my now familiar blanket of dark depression. [yes, we forget that we do have to stoop low to get to our depression] She’s warm and soft muffling life’s demands as a mother would protect her young surrogate created. [ah, I like this, not quite sure everyone will understand about the comfort one can find in their depression, in their own thoughts] She waits patiently a single tear enough to signify possible return from the wings. [strange how it is always right there, waiting as if to see us let our guard down] It seemed I had cast her down such a short time ago sanity waits for no man. [odd you refer to this emotion as female, however you are so correct, in the blink of an eye our resolve can disappear] An innocent crying inspires me to attempt non-surrender hesitant childlike steps. [we tend to forget how our emotions effect those around us, how when we withdraw those who love us don’t understand our withdrawal and feel shut out] Look for me in the morning light. [hmmm, see there is light after the dark and you are still able to find it] I think you’ve done a commendable job in trying to give others a view of what depression/bi-polar can be like, how it can effects those connected to the one who is going through an episode, how hard one must struggle to keep things right side up and how the most innocent whimper can be the beginning of helping one hold on even if tenuously to some shards of sanity, to reality even if it is in small steps. As you know and have heard before, every journey starts with the first step, to me; you have mad a giant step here. So, on the lighter side, why didn’t you write it on a napkin…*smile* some of our best stuff comes off a napkins. You did good kid. Warmest always, Lora

This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2005-11-08 21:06:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Your language is oblique, Stephen. There is almost a Quixotic contradiction between a "familiar blanket of [dark depression] and the "warm and soft" protective mother. This begins your poem and brings the reader to look for some meaning in what might otherwise be construed as disparity. Surely, in life, there is one proclivity after another for things to fall out with what they might initially seem. But you do not take us where that might be. Then you refer to "the wings" without further context. We have mixed imagery wondering about your meaning. Is this a more remote region of some building?....or is this more? Later, in your note, we better conceive you might be referring to a closed ward, or where someone might have been kept...even involuntarily. In the respect of finding meaning behind your assertion, "sanity waits for no man" we are left again unsatisfied. There are many things you might mean, but, again, no context. The last stanza and parting line stand well as they are, but they unify no meaning to what went before...when they could have. I feel you have something to impart and that it is important enough to probe to meaning. In fact, you might have a wonderful thing to share if you will but expand and elucidate just a bit more in a rewrite. JCH

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