sad poetry

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

The Project
It’s an effervescent antidepressant When you can’t pay your rent Money whores stripping us of everything As we cling to our last life line to reality
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Natural Consequences
I'm on fire. A forest fire; a quiet, rolling roar. Warning sign: this is where I'm at. You want to cross the line, go ahead.
By Sara Wynnabout a year ago in Poets
Weight in Silence
silence always precedes — everything from the creation of everything to your last bowel movement a rumble in the sack
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
Crestfallen I am Without the Fine Torso
We're all going to hell in a handbasket and you're paying the bills said the official aficionado to the fucking moron eating the pills
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
Ode to the Unconquered Pulse
Beneath the cloak of stars, where shadows scheme, A spark is born—not seraph’s gift, but yours. No dirge for hearts that beat in tempest-scream,
By Masum Hossainabout a year ago in Poets
The Jar
I saw a video today— a girl, her hands trembling around a jar she couldn’t open. She ran to her father, and with one twist,
By Carolina Borgesabout a year ago in Poets
The Geometry of Us (Explained)
Introduction Love is rarely simple. It doesn’t always follow clear rules, predictable paths, or soft conclusions. Sometimes, love resembles a complex equation—beautiful but unsolvable, sharp-edged but divine. That is the heart of the poem “The Geometry of Us”—an exploration of love not as a fleeting emotion, but as a force of nature: mathematical, chaotic, healing, and destructive all at once.
By Muhammad Adilabout a year ago in Poets
“Lessons in Her Silence”
**Lessons in Her Silence** *What a Mother Taught Without Words* She never raised her voice to teach, No thunder in her hands;
By Abid Khanabout a year ago in Poets
Crosswind
A bird has fallen from the sky, it is I. My ruffled wings were clipped by unseen hands. I flutter helplessly on muddy sand
By Ileana Collazoabout a year ago in Poets
I Miss It
I Miss It. The space you create Replete with peace, your milieu Steadies the jarred pace of an endless mind. A casual calling to cease fire on self-destruction.
By AAshesabout a year ago in Poets
"Whispered Echoes of the Past"
There’s an empty chair by the window, Where you used to sit and smile. A place that held your warmth and laugh, If only for a while.
By muqaddas shuraabout a year ago in Poets
The Pain Before Rebirth
Nights are the hardest When the high fades The memories come flooding back in And it hits me like a force All I can do is lie in bed and cry in silence
By Mercedes Chavezabout a year ago in Poets