sad poetry
The cathartic nature of poetry makes it one of the best outlets to channel feelings of sadness, emotional turmoil, grief and despair.
Forget You
there are times when i forget you and it’s like you were never there not your face not your smile not that snuffle
Proofs and Theories
The simmering terrors of its essence set its fangs deep, Trembling with the exasperation of toil, I tirelessly strive in the endeavours of the promises to keep
Hridya SharmaPublished about an hour ago in PoetsPoetic Ghost
I know I shouldn't have Come here, the Paradise hill Mistakes from hill (hell) but came here, no one could save Who told me to
Real Full Feel
something inside me died tonight and this time i could feel it as it went as well as after it was gone it was real time
Excerpt II
excerpt 4/27/24 Have I told you that you are the warmest womb to ever have revived me? The doctors won’t listen. I visit her daily until I can’t anymore. She understands, tells me I’m the only one who makes her feel guarded, and I have never thought of guarded in the sense of secure, only closed. My dear friend lies still in her cotton consummation, destined to blight the waters with blood, and I fear I am the only one who knows how to help– Would you really stoop to such a rotten sense of delusion? On what pedestal must you stand to enlighten a child–
Olivia DodgePublished about 4 hours ago in PoetsLet Me Write These Lines For You
Let me write these lines for you Before I bid this place adieu And let my heart pour out its grief Until the words I write imbue
Jowie EspirituPublished about 5 hours ago in PoetsTies That Bind
If God was the spool and we were the thread Life made us the fool and loves power is dead If people would do the things that they said Love could heal the wounds and would win in the end But what is and what is hoped for are not always the same Love is a list of unfortunate chores and a myriad of redundant games
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished about 7 hours ago in PoetsSee Me
I am made of glass. Transparent, Noticeable only when unclean. Everything I am is brittle, Brittle bones, Brittle feelings,
On Top
On top, of mountain of sadness, there grows a tree. On tree, it’s hard to see, there rests a nest. In the nest,
Rowan FinleyPublished about 13 hours ago in PoetsCosmos
Three bodies floating through reality Circling around a center None dare enter For if any one has full control All falls apart
Atomic HistorianPublished about 14 hours ago in PoetsHour
Who knew that an hour? Could have so much power. The minutes just seemed to fly by. How many seconds did I cry?
Zakari RungePublished about 16 hours ago in PoetsThunder
Closing my eyes for slumber. I was slowly going under. Then came the thunder... Electricity was soaring off the charts.
Zakari RungePublished about 16 hours ago in Poets