These Imagination Sad poems are examples of Sad poems about Imagination. These are the best examples of Imagination Sad poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death,
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade,
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me.
I count to three,
I put the blade to my wrist.
I start to add pressure.
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop,
But there's no going back now.
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost,
Lost and angry.
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.
Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair
Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee
Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark
She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?
To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife
Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest
And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear
And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber
She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee
I saw a fair young maiden, abandoned in her bed,
Tearful for the one she loved ,the one she chose to wed.
Who in a weakened moment tread, out to the mountain ledge,
Enticed by the knight in black, who brought him to the edge.
Come fly with me, the black knight said, " to a land of pure euphoria,
And let me show you wondrous things, that I can lay before you.
No more pain and no more strife, just endless days and endless nights
of wine and song and dance.
Come my prince ,come fly with me ,why not take a chance,
Forget your wife, come live your life ,it's time for new romance.
A tiny pill, is all it takes, a sniff of fine white powder,
Will keep you high, so you can fly up to the magic tower".
So ,the prince he ate the tiny pills and sniffed the fine white powder,
And soon he was addicted, to the magic of their powers.
Away he flew ,up to the moon, beyond the Milky Way,
Where stars came out and winked at him and beckoned him to play.
Everyday he ate the pills and sniffed the fine white powder,
But everyday...he needed more as they slowly lost their power,
And now he couldn't fly as high and that was terrible thing,
for there were more a more feathers missing from his wings.
Then one day ,while he flying, reaching for his dreams,
He felt the power leaving him ,and he began to scream.
Down and down and down he fell, crashing to the ground;;
Lost dreams and broken promises, lying all around.
And like a wounded bird with broken wings, that cease to flutter,
The truth rained down upon his head ,as he floundered in the gutter
Oh what a crazy fool he'd been, blinded by the knight,
Could he ever win her back ,and make the wrongs all right?
He cried and cried, into the night, regrets were his companions,
Until he heard the sound of hooves ,rumbling through the canyon.
Through tear-filled eyes, he saw a herd, of royal beauty stallions,
And perched upon ,their royal backs ,were knights in white so gallant.
Carefully ,they scooped him up ,and carried him away,
Into the East ,they rode from hell, for three long nights and days.
When long at last, with horses spent ,they reached their destination,
They placed him in the hands of God ,for this was His creation.
Great warmth began to fill his heart ,and light shone from his eyes,
He felt the gentle hand of God, and he began to cry.
Such happiness. he had never known. it lifted him so high,
He spread his wings, up to the sky ,and he began to fly.
Up to the sky, on mended wings, with angels all around him,
He heard the voice of God ring out, and totally surround him.
"I've done my part ,my fallen prince ,but the rest is up to you,
Fly straight and true, and don't look back ,no matter what you do.
Lead not thee to temptation son .for if you do, you'll die,
Fly straight and true, my fallen prince, or forever, cease to fly".
Will the prince ,journey home again ,to his fair and lovely maiden
Or, will temptation ,lead him back, to the evil Black Knight Satan?
She walks away.
Girlish and glorious
like a kite on a string
tautly slipping through tightened fingers,
burning a little,
and slicing through
if ever left unattended,
so preciously tensioned
against the cold
Tears begin to flow
but I do not know . . .
or the wind?
If my heart, then am I sad
to be here on the ground
to be watching the kite
In answer, a quivering.
"She will not fall or float away while I hold her thus.
She will be beautiful for me."
When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...
I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky
The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn
I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe
The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul
Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through
Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost
I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art
As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow
Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place
The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost
Day was Life,Night is Death
And the latter has given counsel on my final steps
Her dark eyes reflect
Tranquil waters beyond dusk
When she does not cry.
Hello friend, Do you see that man on the corner by the street?
He is holding the cardboard saying "homeless and I need to eat."
If you're not too busy, come with me on a journey back to 1969.
It will help you to look past his appearence and beyond his homemade sign.
This is the 1960's, where they thrived on the American Dream.
The women were real ladies, or at least in public thats what it seems.
Today is High School graduation, So much happiness is in the air,
But, These young men have recieved papers, and Uncle Sam expects them there.
Do you recognize the bone structure of this boy standing on our right?
He is the one from the future corner, he was Valedictorian tonight.
So well dressed, and raised up right, his sweetheart by his side.
He has no reason to be fearful of the draft, he is filled with American Pride.
Fast foward, Just a few weeks, to him and his young new wife,
Kissing so passionately, pressing pause on their future, and their life.
He is dropped down in the jungle, amist the sounds of live fire.
He sees injured men being lifted out, as the SGT's on the wire.
Just a young boy of 19, he is scared beyond his witts,
Yet, he completes every mission he is given, he never quits.
He holds the hands of friends, who was cut down in their prime.
Yes, this is the same man, the one you wouldn't give a dime.
He arrives back home, in the year of 1972.
His tour earned him a purple heart, he took bullets for you.
once at home, he is expecting affection from his lover,
but, he has been gone for so long she already found another.
So at 21 years old, this veteran is now a man,
He drinks his memories away, everynight if he can.
He gave an eye, and two of the best friends he has ever known.
He never was told "thank you", and he has nothing to call his own.
If you pay close attention to the newspapers of '72
you will see in the protest, they blamed the drafted soilders too.
so here is this man, young, and broken, yet, still not ashamed.
He proudly answered the call, when the draft listed his name.
Only a fellow Veteran, could even try to understand,
That there are no surviving Vets, a part of them died in Vietnam.
When they returned they expected welcome parties and smiles.
Instead they were placed in a new war, but, it was their uniform on trial.
If you still feel the same as you did before our walk.
Go on about your day, forget about our talk.
But, if you have decided, you can look beyond his sign.
Maybe understand his pain, and give our hero a dime.
. And Dream
. . And Dream
I'll dream until my soul awakes,
And it's time for youth to part
I'll dream until my passion breaks,
And this child's abandoned heart
I'll dream a lost and former friend,
The innocence I've held to tight
Before the colors blur, and blend,
I'll dream of who I was tonight
Before my tears drip down, and dry,
I'll dream with colors pure and gold
Before the innocence inside me dies,
And childhood is hardened cold
I'll dream as if absorbed in youth,
Illusion moonlight show'ring light
Blind to pain and awful truth,
I'll dream of who I was tonight.
I hear the straw hum
stretched chords groan and snag my heart
leaving me composed.
This's the world of dreams and
Where I think ev'ry that reels,
After a thousands times,
would as same beliefs things
Is it a mere dream?