Anhedonia

Anhedonia

A Poem by Alistair (Ali)

It is difficult to define
With no black dog to lead
this pressure dropped familiar.
No symbol/ fetish/ effigy 
to incorporate a misery that drains
the joy from all that I hold dear.
.
How does one trace the contours
of an abstract exhalation?

Somewhere near
a pendulum is stilled.

That which I loved one minute past,
that filled this hole of borrowed time
is laid apart her spent electric
body washed in turpentine
Her outline drawn.
Estranged.

                        .........

I follow where the way grows small
Where disembodied voices pull in
strange degrees of separation
I flow toward their thin remains
shape, ill-defined, subliminal
An acquiescent aftermath of
calculus unknown.

I am pressed italic, hither sent
to comb the sear of cloying strand
for relics of the days worn down 
by nothing in particular.
There is no anthem or lament
no ornamental sentiment to wrest
the quickened lacks that sand
the shores of Anhedonia.

© 2019 Alistair (Ali)


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Reviews

emptiness, dryness, lifeless.... I always said it's much better to feel pain than feeling nothing, it's much better to feel wet tears rather than dryness, to me your poem is bleeding to "feel" not only pleasure, but to feel anything, to feel you are a human, your genuine feelings are so so real leaving no doubt that they came form your very tormented thirsty soul. the last two verses expressing the surrendering to the situation, then maybe after the surrendering the healing comes, I can feel a pale spark through your last verse... and yes, always there is light at the end of the tunnel. all the very best and warmest blessings for You my friend.

Posted 1 Month Ago


As a medical student, I have seen many cases of clinical depression, and it enrages me sometimes how some poets seem to romanticize it, implying that true art is produced from such bouts. I think you do justice to the topic, by presenting it in this stark, no-nonsense way. Really like your expression.

Posted 2 Years Ago


Alistair (Ali)

2 Years Ago

Thank you kindly. I agree that sometimes there is a tendency to glamour the ailment, and as we know .. read more
The days when black rooms keep you company and the sun is shining only for others.
Usually, winter does it to me, dark days for dark moods.


Posted 2 Years Ago


Alistair (Ali)

2 Years Ago

Yes, Paul, I can understand that!- the subtlety and diversity of triggers are quite extraordinary- r.. read more
Paul Bell

2 Years Ago

Defo, roll on spring.
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Gee
Of course I had to Google the title, then read your replies to fully understand (being as thick as I am) Guesss I could apply this to watching my beloved LFC at present :((
My wife suffered a wee bout of depression many moons ago, very hard to understand from the outside looking in especially as we have a very easy going comfortable life.
Good morning Ali, hope you are well.


Posted 2 Years Ago


Alistair (Ali)

2 Years Ago

Hello Mate!...an important win yesterday- and so good to see Trent back at last- if we don't win it .. read more
Your poem is drenched in misery. The misery that comes with loss. I know that loss, but time does make it more bearable. It doesn't go but you learn to live with it. Sad to read Ali. May your burden lighten. May you find peace in your mourning.

Chris

Posted 2 Years Ago


Alistair (Ali)

2 Years Ago

Thank you kindly Chris- that is very sweet of you to say.
I must confess though, that this ve.. read more
How well I know this feeling Ali. When life has drained you of every mote of feeling, of semblance of self...yes, misery drained of all joy. Your words describe this numbness exquisitely, and with good reason- you mourn, you mourn. “Somewhere near..a pendulum is stilled”..yes, what was is gone. Anhedonia, your island of quicksand- the nothing that is left, for awhile. Beautiful metaphor for a sad time. Blessings and peace always wished to you my friend.

Posted 2 Years Ago


Alistair (Ali)

2 Years Ago

Bless you Annette!- thank you kindly.

and, yes!, "Anhedonia" is a whopper of a knocke.. read more

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Added on February 8, 2019
Last Updated on February 8, 2019

Author

Alistair (Ali)
Alistair (Ali)

Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom



About
I write because I cannot paint. I enjoy the flavor of words, their subtle tastes and textures. I savor their spice and their sea salt. They are washed in on tides of thought, and i comb the strand.. more..

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