Sad poems

Sad poems — a collection of the best works on Poemship.

Poem language

Any author

Keywords

With audio

Sort

Dave Bonta

Climate refugee

I miss my own piece of ground under the sea under a fly of the Lord’s some thin cross my mind could be like a harp and no hand to suit it should any religion call me like a ruin of a friend shall death and despair rule or temper me knowing the time to fall and the time to age to go sleep with the crows in my hindered land

Dave Bonta

Fleeting

our whole lives passing in one day all out of air I look for crows

Dave Bonta

Ex-nomad

I sing to myself rather than go home with grief o my war horse the way turned into more convenience

Dave Bonta

Chronic condition

every dress I see is blue water as if I could not keep my mind off my pain a new country with no peace troubling me in the night old is the day of my fall into this life

Dave Bonta

Lethargic

I conceal by smiling the ice within I lie under great weight a sea might come into the room and I would do nothing tell me a secret and I tell it to the wren I give the devil his dirt a touching mission the body changes as a sea high or low

Dave Bonta

Clandestine

my eyes hold a tear or two which I sacrifice to things out of sight her parting with me this clutter in my pen

Dave Bonta

Over sight

a black woman I never saw took notice of me my sorrow at this world my embracing loss and her voice grew out of my sleep but trouble was what I saw not her preferring any hurt that I did

Dave Bonta

Novelist

I write a new draft and alter the afternoon I teem with debts and lives so high and so many I must be ruined if no god will come see

Dave Bonta

Sundown

all day in the park where a man cannot live but can get wine and bark at a fox making accommodation for the dark

Dave Bonta

Poor sleeper

sleep comes to me but not on purpose it and the swan do not understand being civil I drew the last rose for the hole in my heart and went home to my bed in a broken country

Dave Bonta

Home/sick

the wren might suspect I am finished with elsewhere and home I find somewhat sour being there so often at the end of the road too late to get her silent way

Dave Bonta

Affliction

a body grown cautious comes to be in the way having given nothing having been but an acquaintance to my own vexed ear

Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem

Or try: