To paraphrase the Bard, "I were but little depressed if I could say how much." Is not perhaps the real depression for a writer being unable to write? And might not poetry itself be the best therapy?
What a remarkable thread to come across while recovering from last week's heart surgery (a series of examinations culminated in placement of a pacemaker). And what a range of responses to the initial challenge, from the epigrammitic wit of "Resumé" (be it Parker's or Roger/Bob's or several others here) to the agonizing lines of Anne or Silken (or again several others here). Obviously craft itself is no substitute for emotional honesty, but when the two are wed the result is incredibly moving.
Since a few have offered poems not by themselves, I'll nominate what I find perhaps the most depressing poem I know, Randall Jarrell's "90 North." A child's nightmare of a polar bear standing at the North Pole leads to an excruciating discovery:
. . . . . . . .I reached my North and it had meaning.
. . . . . . . .Here at the actual pole of my existence,
. . . . . . . .Where all that I have done is meaningless,
. . . . . . . .Where I die or live by accident alone—
. . . . . . . .Where, living or dying, I am still alone;
. . . . . . . .Here where North, the night, the berg of death
. . . . . . . .Crowd me out of the ignorant darkness,
. . . . . . . .I see at last that all the knowledge
. . . . . . . .I wrung from darkness—that the darkness flung me—
. . . . . . . .Is worthless as ignorance; nothing comes from nothing,
. . . . . . . .The darkness from the darkness. Pain comes from the darkness
. . . . . . . .And we call it wisdom. It is pain.
My talent, being far more modest than his, turned to epigram to write my own epitaph years ago:
. . . . . . . . . . . .Fee fie foe fum
. . . . . . . . . . . .So my time to go has come.
. . . . . . . . . . . .Foe fum fee fie
. . . . . . . . . . . .Comes a time we all must die.
. . . . . . . . . . . .Fie foe fum fee
. . . . . . . . . . . .Sighs the world a sigh for me?
. . . . . . . . . . . .Fum fee fie foe
. . . . . . . . . . . .Don’t be silly. Hell no.
(What fun to go out on a spondee.)
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