I couldn't find poems like the ones you posted, I'm afraid, so I tried to find poems that have helped me when I've been suffering particularly badly from my depression and anxiety. I hope these help.
To Love Life Ellen Bass
The thing is to love life to love it even when you have no stomach for it, when everything you've held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands and your throat is filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you so heavily it's like heat, tropical, moist thickening the air so it's heavy like water more fit for gills than lungs. When grief weights you like your own flesh only more of it, an obesity of grief. How long can a body withstand this? you think, and yet you hold life like a face between your palms, a plain face, with no charming smile or twinkle in her eye, and you say, yes, I will take you I will love you again.
Speech to the Young: Speech to the Progress-Toward Gwendolyn Brooks
Say to them, say to the down-keepers, the sun-slappers, the self-soilers, the harmony-hushers, “even if you are not ready for day it cannot always be night.” You will be right. For that is the hard home-run.
Live not for battles won. Live not for the-end-of-the-song. Live in the along.
Gamblers All Charles Bukowski
sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside remembering all the times you've felt that way, and you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway, get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself, like millions of others you enter the arena once more.
you are on the freeway threading through traffic now, moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch the radio on and get Mozart, which is something, and you will somehow get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful and so disappointing because we are all so alike and so different.
you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as Mozart works his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and out through your shoes.
it's been a tough fight worth fighting as we all drive along betting on another day.
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Date: 2014-02-24 07:05 pm (UTC)To Love Life
Ellen Bass
The thing is
to love life
to love it even when you have no
stomach for it, when everything you've held
dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands
and your throat is filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you so heavily
it's like heat, tropical, moist
thickening the air so it's heavy like water
more fit for gills than lungs.
When grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief.
How long can a body withstand this? you think,
and yet you hold life like a face between your palms,
a plain face, with no charming smile
or twinkle in her eye,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you again.
Speech to the Young: Speech to the Progress-Toward
Gwendolyn Brooks
Say to them,
say to the down-keepers,
the sun-slappers,
the self-soilers,
the harmony-hushers,
“even if you are not ready for day
it cannot always be night.”
You will be right.
For that is the hard home-run.
Live not for battles won.
Live not for the-end-of-the-song.
Live in the along.
Gamblers All
Charles Bukowski
sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think,
I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside
remembering all the times you've felt that way, and
you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face
in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway,
get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the
newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your
wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself,
like millions of others you enter the arena once more.
you are on the freeway threading through traffic now,
moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch
the radio on and get Mozart, which is something, and you will somehow
get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull
days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful
and so disappointing because
we are all so alike and so different.
you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous
part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as Mozart works
his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and
out through your shoes.
it's been a tough fight worth fighting
as we all drive along
betting on another day.