sad poetry

The cathartic nature of poetry makes it one of the best outlets to channel feelings of sadness, emotional turmoil, grief and despair.

Gum Wrappers and Lunch Bags
Inevitably, they ask me what I do for a living. I ponder the odd, in-between jobs, here and there, this and that barely
By Sam Eliza Greenabout a year ago in Poets
Exposing Crystallum
June 23: Crystallography of Secrets- Create a scientific study of how secrets form different crystal structures based on their nature. Include classification system and growth conditions. Use geological terminology to describe emotional states. Consider how secrets change under pressure. End with breaking open a fully formed secret crystal. - Daily Poetry Writing Prompts 2025
By Oneg In The Arcticabout a year ago in Poets
Touch Me. Content Warning.
"Touch me," I whisper, but he only touches my body, rough, raw hands. He doesn’t understand that I meant touch me the way that first gasp
By Lolly Vieiraabout a year ago in Poets
the way things are, now
I still dream of sun-kissed bricks under bare feet Of hot soup on the stove Of origami books on your kitchen table Of your splayed arms, open like a bird’s wings
By angela hepworthabout a year ago in Poets
Where He Is.
They say grief is just love with nowhere to go but I say that's a lie. This world is too big for there not to be places for your love to reach.
By April Kirby.about a year ago in Poets
Starless Nights
Silence echos in the night and rings in my ears Do I beg another plight or dry up my tears?
By Bixi Hernandezabout a year ago in Poets
A Letter to the Thundercloud
Emerald-strewn, the sacred pool lies still, Where golden lotuses, in bloom, arise— Their stems, smooth rods of chrysoberyl,
By Dipayan Biswasabout a year ago in Poets
The Cost of Liberty
Once more we are reminded That liberty has its cost— That when we choose to protect it, Then souls are bound to be lost.
By Mark Stigers about a year ago in Poets
The Lost Lullabies of Extinct Languages
They did not perish in fire or flood. But in a whisper, a dying thud— The tongues thereupon whispered amongst the grasses
By Martin Williamsabout a year ago in Poets
Sit With Your Ghost
You're not here, so I sit with your ghost, staring at the place where you sat the most. Your empty wine glass, an empty toast.
By Valerie Taylorabout a year ago in Poets
The Outsider
I hate writing and reading out poems for the dead What is the recruitment process for being an ancestor? Is it how long you have lived and suffered?
By Isaac Ramaphalaabout a year ago in Poets
What was my ex-wife's name again?
. What was my ex-wife's name again? - I suddenly forgot! by Ross E F Lombardi. . Yes, I am a bit haunted by my ex . Yes,
By Ross E Fortune Lombardiabout a year ago in Poets