Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Sad Poetry

No problem:

I'm so sad
and I'm so mad
That I'd banish myself off this land.
And then stab my own hand.
Like an emo.

O woe has come upon me.
For what, what do I see?
Another group poetry thread.
I hope that this won't be dead.
I'm sorry to inform you,
But what I say is quite true
Group poetry tends not to last,
Maybe exceptions from the past.

There.

Sad is but a word
Sad is not a thing
Sad is an emotion
Sad is the end
Sad is my heart
Sad is my life
Sad is the emptiness


I'm not actually like that, I like my life! Yay!

A tear on my cheek,
My heart, aching.
I feel hopeless and weak,
Like there's no point in awakening.
How am I supposed to be whole again,
When I'll never again see you?
Your disappearance brought me so much pain,
Oh Chowder, where art thou?

I'm not really into writing sad poetry for sadness' sake. If there is a theme for which sadness fits, then I can make it work, but if the sadness itself is the focus, well, I just don't feel motivated.

Anyways, that's about how the TV-show Chowder ended, but you could just replace it with a person's name, and you've got yourself a serious, sad poem instead.

Forget sad, I'm doing betrayal!

You saw red.
Now I feel blue.
How could my blackened heart
Ever love you?


It looked cooler when the words were colored...

He was a pilot.
Shot down over the enemy.
He pulled out his pistol, and pulled the trigger.
10 years later, he is filled with remorse.
The first he killed, was but a boy.
He locked the door.
He wrote the note.
He opened the drawer.
He pulled out his pistol, and pulled the trigger.

One can not forget
Anguish and despair,
Feelings of regret,
These are never rare.

Always filled with pain,
Poisoned by sadness,
Dreadful thoughts remain,
Falling to madness.

Endless bouts of grief,
This life is a lie,
There is no relief,
Other than to die.

He loved his wife,
More than something else.
But life was cheating him,
She died in his hands.

After years of grief,
he thought life's going on.
New wife, new job,
The restart was done.

But night for night,
His true love was dying.
The dreams, so real,
He woke up, quiet crying.

When he was old,
He understood the truth.
His true love died,
And his soul, too.


If there are mistakes, I apologize. That is my first try in english.

Tears

The sadness has awakened me,
The pain is agonizing me,
Sitting there about to cry,
Be like this until I die.

I'll try a sad haiku:

Dreary and depressed,
He walks alone on the path,
Hoping to be found.

A dark curtain descends upon my life
Perhaps the sign of the end of my show
so much is wrong, death greeting so many
people that I love, taking them one by one.

Lamenting shall do no good, I think,
but the tears still stream, my eyes
all but dry from unending sorrow.
The pain I feel just grows and grows.

This curtain is down, my act is complete
and now, perhaps I shall join my loved ones,
just a pull of the trigger away, gun to the head
here I come, happier times ahead.

That's about as dark a poem as I've written. I don't have a title thought up of yet, though.

Here's a sad poem:

Drawing near, he wondered.
Pulling back, he pondered.
Was the end so black?
Was the start so dark?
But then, it dawned,
how the grief had spawned.
When the darkest hour had come
when the vainest race had run
the despair set in hard,
his world broke like a shard.
Could it be that he was nothing?
Could it be that he had nothing?

I want to continue... I'm not sure how poetic it is...

I'm not sure how poetic it is...