sad poetry
The cathartic nature of poetry makes it one of the best outlets to channel feelings of sadness, emotional turmoil, grief and despair.
Manufactured Misanthropy
Metal machine Murder machine Mechanically maniacal Militarised, mobilised Manufactured misanthropy * Thanks for reading!
Paul StewartPublished about a year ago in PoetsClick. Click.
If you want the full experience: https://youtu.be/n8sLcvWG1M4 Click, click. I play with it while thoughts are frantic and my soul is split.
Mark R. CieslakPublished about a year ago in PoetsSouthward (A Panku)
Your sleeping face anchored my brain, mooring of sanity to this place without your curious joy pointing southward, your paintbrush tail indicating northward, my mouth erupted sound
Tricia De Jesus-Gutierrez (Phynne~Belle)Published about a year ago in PoetsSpiders At Night
She is miles away in this tiny little bed I toss and turn stranded, in her web I reach out into the void where true love
Dean F. HardyPublished about a year ago in PoetsDesire Path
There is a tired, broken line running from our bedrooms, miles and miles away. Along this line one might find bits and pieces of love worn passages, words tumbled from mouth into ear, mouth into mouth. There are brambles, thorns, thickets, puddles, mud pits, flower gardens, vast green meadows filled with birds fishing through the air, swirling about, disrupting the clouds. It took time to make this line, it took time to make it sturdy, to turn it into a well worn desire path. Then it took time to make it ragged, for spots and patches to grow back with feral life. We can remember the way if we dig deep into the soil of our minds, the seeds are still there, they are hibernating until they are again watered, cared for. The path will be one that doesn't fully seal, even when death kisses our breath away, even when our final moment is swept from this temporary body and ushered onto the next. The path will pass onto the next pair of lovers, of friends tangled in the romance of loving another person, in passion or in platonic enmeshment. The kind of enmeshment that happens only when two souls share a bond forged by walks under streetlights, dilated pupils, dancing in the flashes of thunderstorms, trailing muddy feet back to tents full of friends, hands wrapped gently, hands wrapped desperate for something to hold onto in a world upended by choosing illusions over reality, making them into reality, turning each other into small gods for a moment in time, a moment consumed with the existence of the other.
Erika EdbergPublished about a year ago in PoetsEarth's Lament
The progress we’ve made is grand, But lost we are, in this endless demand. We keep on searching for what we don't know,
Abdul Azim MarzukiPublished about a year ago in PoetsLove's Magic
In the midst of the mundane and routine, A moment of magic, so pure and serene, When love wrapped me in its warm embrace, And time stood still in that hallowed space.
Love Me Well
Love me well, my dear With kindness and with care Be present in this moment And show me that you're there Speak to me with honesty And listen with an open heart Share your joys and sorrows And we'll never be apart
- Top Story - April 2023
rare sea horn light
I listened to the swish of the wind – song through the toughest times it had no words just buzzing and bulging of the unsteady
Mescaline BrissetPublished about a year ago in Poets We Might As Well
There’s something about the way that we ignore our mental health and starve ourselves, feelings-anorexics too afraid to speak
R.C. TaylorPublished about a year ago in PoetsLittle Tim
Little Tim, was always busy, that was him. One day he let the air out of all four tires of the neighbor’s car.
Denise E LindquistPublished about a year ago in PoetsAlison
All About Arron , Alison, Albeit Arthur, Altogether Angry Arron At Ageing Alison, Arrived At Alsop Apartments, Apparently Arthur Angry At Alsop Apartments Afterwards At All Aristotle 's Artist Article,
Dawn EarnshawPublished about a year ago in Poets