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 Ending
Burning, deprived lungs Grasp life-giving oxygen Too little, too late By Robbie Cheadle Too little, too late is defined by Collins as a situation where the speaker is blaming someone for not doing enough to prevent a problem, and for taking action only after the problem had become very bad.
Robbie CheadlePublished about a year ago in PoetsFearful Waves They Roar
Fear of what may come Fear of failure, fear of loss Riding on a wave Breathing heavily Tension mounting with each breath
Naya LizardoPublished about a year ago in PoetsWhispers of a Broken Heart
Two hearts entwined, Fate brought them together, In a love so pure and divine, Forever they'd treasure. But a silly misunderstanding,
Ashu BishtPublished about a year ago in PoetsYou Become What You Drink
Addiction It’s starts off having a few extra drinks Until you realise you need them More and more Soon you find you can’t start the day
Linda BromleyPublished about a year ago in PoetsHell on Earth
Have you been to Hell? Manifests differently Furtive shape shifter By Robbie Cheadle
Robbie CheadlePublished about a year ago in Poetssunflowers bloomed…
a week after you passed, i noticed them growing on the side of the highways and access roads in abandoned parking lots and construction zones//
joi poetryPublished about a year ago in PoetsHis 4
One, of my sisters, is a steadfast believer. Another thoughtful. Baby questioning. Me, the designated witch. Yet, us four, combined-
Nikki Torino WagnerPublished about a year ago in PoetsYou Can Breathe While Driving
You can have the purple sky, the horizon of lilac, drink it like water through the open window, down the freeway. You can have peace and quiet tonight, watch the world shift in colour, spin aimlessly into a world of dark blue, in your room, on your bed.
Jamie RamsayPublished about a year ago in PoetsOutside noise
It’s a plague, this worry; it’s her room, it’s her skin, it’s uninvited, this projection is unkind. It’s messy, it’s too many clothes and not enough closet space. It’s her left, upper thigh, the space she leaves for proof of her error.
Jamie RamsayPublished about a year ago in PoetsBreathe and Hold your Thumb
She said, breathe and hold your thumb, something we had decided the night before. Whatever I was feeling didn’t belong here today, I had a job to do.
Jamie RamsayPublished about a year ago in PoetsBurn, Move, Hold, End
I'm a tree, you fire Look at what you created Proudly point to ash I float, I can fly Ashes dancing in the sky
Raine fielderPublished about a year ago in PoetsIt's Elemental
Smell the Salty Air Feel the mist, taste the droplets, welcome to my world. Mud under my toes how it parts with each footfall,
Bella BluePublished about a year ago in Poets