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Prose - Depression or Reality

Updated on January 2, 2012

It has been raised before
The question
Of prosaic content
And depression
The exploration
Of depth
Instead of untold heights
And the breadth
Of what is sanity
And what is madness
Inducing fear
And sadness
In those who care
But who wish to remain
In the happy talk
Which they feign
As the minstrel
On the street
Receives his daily bread
The giver relishing this feat
Yet nothing changes
The song will remain
As does the pain
Which we cannot explain
It is just a face
That adorns
Each corner
Wearing silent thorns
As we hear again
“I never knew you”
And you gasped
But it was true
And I know
This was directed to me
And not you
Because I could see
The face on the corner
Was the sanity
And my mind turning
Was the insanity
Of our condition
But you say, “No more!”
“Stop writing about it”
But what for?
So we can forget?
I cannot
Yet I too am helpless
With words that rot
On a page
That cannot be digested
Or provide nourishment
To the souls we neglected
Yes the question remains
Is it sanity?
Or is it depression?
As I insist on reality
Is happiness a choice
To be accepted or rejected?
Or is it a blessing
And unexpected?
Engaging in searing sadness
Over unending childhood memories
Which I wish to relive
Because my Father would have his faculties
I am overwhelmed
In the past
But today
A new memory will last
Because it was a happy one
And the child I rear
Will someday blink back
A tear
As she wills her mind
As I do today
To go back
Somehow, someway
To a time
Of her childhood
When we were together
Where past and present stood
Yes I want to cry
So I can remember
That what I long for
Is in my child’s December
Her new morning
Became mine of long ago
Her new day
Became what I used to know
She took me back
And I saw the boy
And his father
In her eyes of joy
And I remembered
My sanity
And my depression
Were instead a sign of a divinity
That I cannot explain
But can feel
As her love
Reminds me of what is real


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    • profile image


      6 years ago

      Beautiful! But, I have observed the happiest people or at least content, are the ones that have a life beyond their children. Like our childhoods are behind us, so will theirs be behind you and them. I have fought this fight all my life - that's why grandchildren are so wonderful - you get a piece of your own children back.

    • The Suburban Poet profile imageAUTHOR

      Mark Lecuona 

      6 years ago from Austin, Texas

      @Flora - thank you. Just give it a shot. You know there are things that you feel strongly about; things that stir your heart. Just tell us how you feel and let it out and it will be good.

      @Poohgranma - Thank you! Memories make a grown man cry! I'm glad you liked it.

      @Capedium - Thank you!

      @Freya - Thank you. I try to help them, not hurt them. They are challenged constantly and I want them to come to me and take my hand when the going gets rough. They know I'm here.

      @Nancy - Thank you. It seems the older I get that my children are all that matter. The rest of it is a waste of time.

      @Senoritaa - Thank you. When I think of my childhood and then see them it hits me. They are experiencing what I long for.

      @Deborah - Thank you again. My children inspire me in many ways.

      @PDX - Thank you again sir... I'm glad the piece itself works... I don't think too much about technical issues when I write. Sometimes I just stumble on it.

    • PDXKaraokeGuy profile image

      Justin W Price 

      7 years ago from Juneau, Alaska

      nice flow here! Good rhyme and line breaks

    • Deborah Brooks profile image

      Deborah Brooks Langford 

      7 years ago from Brownsville,TX

      what is real? wow.. love your poem.. so beautiful I love these verses..When we were together

      Where past and present stood

      Yes I want to cry

      So I can remember.. simply wonderful

      I voted up and beautiful


    • Senoritaa profile image

      Rinita Sen 

      7 years ago

      So very beautiful. I love the idea behind this poem. Going back to your childhood through your child, and then realizing her love for you is all that is real.

    • Nancy Owens profile image

      Nancy Owens 

      7 years ago from USA

      I admire your talent for writing poetry. Our children never fail to remind us of what is real. My hat is off to you again.

    • Freya Cesare profile image

      Freya Cesare 

      7 years ago from Borneo Island, Indonesia

      Mark, this is beautiful poem and wise thought of you to considering your children over yourself. I wish every parents can do same but too bad sometimes they even dare to treat their children as an object of their stress. Adding risk of mental health problem inside their children's future. You are a great father and I'm sure someday they will remember you with smile and so much joy. And inside their memories you will live forever.

      Have a nice day there. ^^

    • Capedium profile image

      Ov Overo 

      7 years ago from Oklahoma


    • Poohgranma profile image


      7 years ago from On the edge

      Once in a while, when I am in the tent and at the tea parties of my granddaughter and umpteen stuffed animals, I catch a whift of a little girl of long ago who had tea parties with her real dogs and cats, whose smile came easily and her laughter could be heard on the wind.

      Thank-you for reminding me of her. Beautiful!

    • FloraBreenRobison profile image


      7 years ago

      Beautiful poem. I haven't tried writing prose poetry before, although I have read a lot of it here on Hubpages. I might try one some day. Oh, some many potential things to write, and only so many hours in a day!


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