sad poetry
The cathartic nature of poetry makes it one of the best outlets to channel feelings of sadness, emotional turmoil, grief and despair.
Clouding My Mind
Eyes couldn’t see what you're doing here. Have to make the life of me so sincere. Going over the same pain. My eyes fill with the winter’s rain.
Paul CrockerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Loss
In a chaotic world of empty ideas and parent’s beds lacking the warmth of the other side, it is a dangerous time for the plastic nature of one’s being and belief structure to be trying to navigate this desert of broken ideas and malignant plans. Substance of experience is now, in the myth of eternal progress and the new equating to better, considered stale and lacking nourishment. The elders of this day are cast aside much like last year’s iPhone. Mountains of experience and the overcoming of struggle is now being blown like a handful of sand into the wind, a wind which is at our face; the sands and crystals of generational wisdom is blown behind us, forgotten to those who march blindly toward the ever advancing ‘goal’ of progress. Whereas before the castles built with the fine-sands of a thoroughly-lived life were handed down to tomorrow’s holders of wisdom, to be cared for, built on and inhabited, now they are merely left to fall to the wind that is taking the lessons learned and casting them to the darkness of the already trodden path. The arrow of the world points only one way, forward – always forward. Man’s thread to the still-with-us memories of those who have come before has been severed, diminishing those to, at best the once-were, and at worst the wholly forgotten. We no longer dwell in our parent’s castle.
Keith KennedyPublished 7 years ago in PoetsCalamity and Chaos
Calamity at best, Whirlwind of chaos, Emotions overflowing, And it's all my fault. I did this to myself, I knew the risks
Noah ReneePublished 7 years ago in PoetsCaressed by Death
I'm exhausted by introspection and gaunt with tears unshed I would have to be the ocean to occupy his bed I would have to be the wind that stole his locks of dread
Mardi Coeur de LionPublished 7 years ago in PoetsDefinition of Joy
Joy is defined by the limits of its way. Sometimes silent, it still must have its say. It is the alpha and the beta of all men’s lives—
Kevin McClintockPublished 7 years ago in PoetsOne for Sorrow
There is a magpie in my garden, he’s been there all week, Just one lonely magpie, so sad & bleak, I look at this magpie & he reminds me of you,
Karen CommanePublished 7 years ago in PoetsControl
What happens when I die? Do I stay and rot in the soil? Or do I go to heaven or hell? Maybe reincarnation do it all again.
Karen CommanePublished 7 years ago in PoetsKarma
You have no Shame '' And you will never take the Blame '' Karma is coming for you '' Just out of the Blue '' You made my life hell ''
Mags Murphy LynchPublished 7 years ago in PoetsGlass Splinter
Dark coffee fragment Unspoken word flying towards the glass It struck back and hit my face Verve red blood was dripping on concrete
Katrina RinkePublished 7 years ago in PoetsClosure
Each day comes around when I could do without the hesitation. A kiss that might as well mean less complication. Bodiless in these cramped conditions.
Paul CrockerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsShelter
Living in a shelter as a family is hard, You feel like you're always on guard. Hoping and praying this is a short phase, That soon you will see better days.
Heather HansonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsAnguish
It’s seven in the evenin’ This day’s done, my years are leavin’ Our culture rots thro’ powers deceivin’ The young are hanging, our people are grievin’
Keith KennedyPublished 7 years ago in Poets