Depression- John Tansey 

Once we lay, limblocked in love, 

woke to reckless sex 

and sweet dreams, brash young 

hearts that joked age would lose this 

race we double-dared it to.
Now you slink from bed.

All future gone from your eyes, 

as you flash this sad

smile, that turns with your thoughts

to too much of our hopes gone past. 

Delusions of Evening – John Tansey

Evening comes. My self-delusion

stirs the synapses

with a steaming cup of coffee.

A dimly lit oil lamp

shrouded with Saffron scarf

casts the room in an amber hue

with subtle shapes in the shadows

while words as gold ingots on the page

forming this poem

with an alchemic blaze.
Morning rises, lighting the gray room 

dispelling truth

from every fold of darkness

to a sterile whiteness

that turning back 

such atomic weight of words

into leaden blocks of stone

I wake, both bleary eyed and blood shot, 

into this failed, pale bleak

truth of morning

Comes A Doubter – John Tansey 


If one you should know

Is felled by a deep grief

Into a black hole of depression, 

And you, armed with clichés, 

Come to console, relieve, 

Before you open your mouth, 

Know this: 

That, in the absence of the right words, 

Silence will suit the situation well.
Like the wearing of basic black

For all formal affairs and funerals, 

It is proper, 

always in style

and goes with any occasion.
Just ask the petitioners of God

Who, all too well, know: 

It is through the long terrible silence

Of unanswered prayers

Made under the duress of the dark, 
That we, too late, learn to survive this life on our own…