Sestina Sad Poems | Sestina Poems About Sad

These Sestina Sad poems are examples of Sestina poems about Sad. These are the best examples of Sestina Sad poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Sestina | |

God Keeps His Promise

I  leap with joy, admit no fears,
Since God above is in my life.
I watch the birds up in the sky
And feel I too am flying.
He has lifted me from all my cares
That left me sad and lonely.

When I was sad and all alone
I was immobilized with fear.
God took away my worldly cares
And now I live a happy life,
Free as the birds that sing and fly
In soaring flocks up in the sky. 

The birds had laid claim to the sky
While I was bored and lonesome.
They looked so gleeful in their flight
So light and free without a fear.
They knew that God who gave them life,
Would on his shoulders take their cares.

Now that I’ve no more sins to carry
I watch for rainbows in the sky.
I know that I am loved for life
And never more will feel alone.
I have no reason now to fear
As with the birds I whirl and fly.

I’m surrounded by bright butterflies
No longer burdened down with cares
Unlike the days of total fear.
God places  a rainbow in the sky.
Seeing it I know I’m not alone. 
I’m living a new and joyous life.

In the changes in my way of living
I’m learning to use my wings to fly.
Unshackled from my loneliness,
My God has proven that he cares
With a bright rainbow in the sky.
It’s there to show I need not fear.

I’m living now in care free way
My soul is flying skyward too..
I’m lonely no more and no fear have I.

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina | |

Singing a New Song

           Singing a New Song


	Today I heard a country song
	I hadn’t heard for many years
	I closed my eyes and felt the pain
	Rememb’ring when we shared our love
	Before the days that broke my heart
	The memory filled these eyes with tears

	My cheeks were wet with spilling tears
	the singer singing her sad song
	As emptiness invades my heart
	I gazed down on the lonely years
	For I no longer have your love
	And fear I cannot bear the pain

	It is a low and cutting pain
	My eyes they shed a million tears
	As the sad tale of our lost love
	Is captured in the singer’s song
	I wonder just how many years
	To mend a shattered broken heart

	But will it ever mend, this heart
	Repair itself and ease the pain
	I think of all the wasted years
	Of all the bleak and useless tears
	Just like the lyrics of the song
	A troubled, doomed and hopeless love

	If you came back to claim my love
	could I entrust you with my  heart?
	Or, like the woman in the song
	Would your return bring only pain?
	My life forever filled with tears
	Throughout more long and lonely years

	And would it be as in past years
	You’d pour contempt on my true love
	You’d laugh at all my pleading tears
	And ridicule my breaking heart.
	I must find strength to conquer pain
	And live no more this mournful song

	No wasted years, no cruel false heart
	Disloyal love or wounding pain
	No hurt or tears in my new song



Sestina----1-song 2-years 3-pain 4-love 5-heart 6-tears









Copyright © Margaret Foster | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina | |

Tree and me

Sitting under a tree, old and grey
No flowers to bloom, leaves falling down
Birds desert the nests, no one to play around
The clouds are around, they hold no charm
Gave shade to many, no one to shade us
Waiting to fall one day, are we made for each other?

Copyright © Suresh Iyer | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina | |

sad sextet


 Sad Sextet. 


Rainy day 
Wet dog on pavement 
Looking in
Seeing me
Sit by the cosy fireside 
Ignoring its plight. 


Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sestina | |

Pro Choice Without a voice

My seed, I must admit I never even once wanted
Sitting unreallisticaly, at a doctors office
Waiting for my name to be called and to terminate this

Copyright © shane solomon | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sestina | |

AH,THIS ECONOMIC STRESS...

All kinds of bills are piling up,
collectors keep on calling me...
making their threatening phone calls;
I would like to unplug the telephone wire
and have some peace at night...
but borrowing money is not one of the remedies!


My car insurance is due by the end of the month,
this paycheck only covers some necessities, 
trendy attire and expensive dinners with friends must wait;
God forbid, I do oversleep and I am late...
portion of my earnings is a tremendous loss,
and in deeper waters I'll swim, never reaching shore!


My cell phone is overused and is too invaluable,
it could spare me some headaches on some stranded highway;
I'm thinking of switching to a prepaid one to save me a bundle!
Even my haircut must wait, once a month, not twice;
ah, this economic stress...is really testing my sanity!
What should I do from preventing those embarrassing law suits?


Finally, I called on some friends, whose situation isn't that bad,
they said they'd help me...since I helped them when they needed a hand;
interest free and a long-term loan, and would like to know beforehand:
what I am going to tell those greedy and inconsiderate bastards from my bank?
" Keep your money in the vault, I refuse to borrow it and make you rich;
I have found a better way to improve my financial situation by making you itch! "


Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina | |

An analysis of sadness

Start
The other day I heard my friend was sad.
I met him to ask him about the reason
but, he was upset and his mood was very bad.
So I had to confine my conversation to the season
and the possibility of the advent of early spring.
I had to leave him in the existing state of his mind. 
 
Why are we concerned about the state of somebody’s mind?
I wondered.  Perhaps, we do not wish to see him appear sad.
Inherently, we want him to appear like the flowers that blossom in spring
to attract the bees and honey birds.  This is the reason
why we relate all happiness to this auspicious season.
In our happiness we remember what is good and forget everything bad.
 
The mind, in its own way,  reacts to the events, good and bad.
The behavioral pattern is a reflection of the state of the mind,
which is influenced, amongst other things, by the season.
During dull, rainy season, the mind tends to be sad
and one becomes irritated at the least pretext.  The reason
why we feel happy again is the enchanting environment in spring.
 
Poets have written adorable verses eulogizing spring
There is happiness all around and nothing can be bad.
But, are we that blessed that there can be no reason
for  any news or events to upset the state of the mind?
In a short span of time a happy person can become sad
irrespective of whatever might be the season.
 
If it is an icy cold, stormy night in the winter season
in stark contrast to the warm and colorful spring 
and I’m holed alone in my log hut, I cannot help but feel sad.
I ruminate on my fate and wonder why my luck is so bad
I think of happy times and drive evil thoughts out of my mind,
only to increase my resistance to cold and not for any other reason.
 
If one is determined not to be happy, there are many reasons
to find fault with everyone and also the seasons
He sees only the negative side of things and trains the mind
to color the world in black and dampen the spirit of spring.
He fails to smell the fragrance, but smells only the odors that are bad     
Thus giving him enough cause to feel very sad.
 
In the crevices of the mind there is some reason
For sadness to relate to the aura of the season
The spirit of spring brings happiness, while cold winter is bad.

End

Copyright © subroto sinha | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sestina | |

Time for Joy

The time has come to give some joy  
To this sad and depressed world 
To bring some happiness into hearts  
Alike to young and old 
Soft music to lift up the mood 
And fragrant candles to light up darkness  

The deep and impenetrable darkness
Will light up with joy
Bringing lightness to every mood
And the spirit of giving to this world
Caring for those persons old
With the trueness of heart

The spirit of this season in the hearts
Will demolish all darkness
The cheer felt by young and old
Will be seen by the passing joy
As it spread its cheer in this world
Uplifting everyone’s mood

This uplifted merry mood
Will cheer and brighten every heart
Happiness will reign in this world
No time for evil darkness
To meddle with supreme joy
When it shines brightly in the eyes of the old

Together we young and old
Will cheer away the sad mood
Dancing hand in hand with joy
With laughter brimming in our hearts
Forging away in darkness
To diminish it in this world

The brighter and better world
A safe haven for young and old
Life free of all darkness
Cheery and merry mood
Mellowness and kindness in every heart
Bringing to this universe some joy

To bring into hearts of this world some cheer
The mood out of darkness being uplifted
And into life of old some joy is given

Copyright © Tahera Mannan | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina | |

Autumn Breeze

   A whisper of beauty sets to the night
In ancient time of Autumn breeze
A flightless feather to soar the sky
Records the silent echos of sorrow
Carries through on seasonal change
Keeping time with history's eye.
   A feather passes a tear filled eye
The sacrifice before the night
The day of blood held in the breeze
As a gentle wind through summer sky
Pierced by the blade of sorrow
The Holy man of change.
   New land wandered for man to change
A wishful time to England's eye 
The eagle spies the foot step night
The pilgrims beyond the breeze
As children cry to burn the sky
A massacred Indian sorrow.
   A black man echoes sorrow	
The pain of life to change
Freedom from the blood stained eye
His cry seeks out the night
Caressed by Autumn breeze
As another feather floats the sky.
   Blood stench streams in horrid sky
The bodies of broken sorrow	
The feather sights upon the change
As delusions form in hatred eye
Secrets under night
Their souls become the breeze.
   Reaching upon the new day breeze
A scrape of cloud and sky
A world united in mornings sorrow
The view of landscaped change
Laments cry the tearful eye
Through restless lonely night.
   Unto the land of darkened night
The feather of recorded sorrow
A moments break awaits, the next Autumn breeze.

     BY: DARREN J McMURRAY
     September 25, 2008

Copyright © Darren J McMurray | Year Posted 2008

Details | Sestina | |

A GRIM OUTLOOK

Prices rising:  the reality of this plunging economy,
thriftiness and frugality are greatly demanded
in order to survive, and having less to spend
is a deterrent to those once-easily-obtainable luxuries;
I have become very frugal, to buy more for less,
and waste of food is not allowed to incur scarcity...


I squandered my money on items laying in unopened boxes,
never displayed:  I could have saved those dollars,
and not put on a grim outlook as dispirited as this;
so embittered and hard-to-get-used-to, and yet hopeful that
the New York's Stock Market will improve, by the bell's sound,
bringing stability to the Nation and the optimist's mind... 

  
The extended warranty on my Honda has run out,
and repairs must wait...back on jammed buses and trains,
standing up and putting up with noisy and naughty kids;
my savings account is running dry and worries amount,
repression or recession are bad news for an honest working man:
no planned vacations, and no expensive gifts for that matter...


Here, in the United States, Mega Millions and Lotto promise to make people millionaires,
but every winner has deprived himself of many needed things
before striking it rich, and with tons of money:  how will one handle it wisely?
For now, this fate remains unchanged...following the same routine:
getting up and going to work, just being normal and making ends meet;
being thankful to have a job to ease up this grim outlook:  not awfully dull and daffy...


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina | |

Sadness

I am not sure why it happens, but it does.  
Everything that is sad in this world seems 
to take residency in my head.  This 
overwhelming sensation drowns my senses 
with the intense rush of the dramatic, to the 
subtleness of surrender without resistance.  
It removes me from my interpretations of 
how someone should feel, and I am able to 
experience the full scope of this emotion.

I wonder; is it my turn to take on what the 
world cannot handle, and give all of those 
who live with these feelings some rest.  
Should I be upset when I indulge in this 
madness of sadness, or should I explore the 
origin that gave birth to tear’s.  Am I 
supposed to just sit and wait until I am 
relieved of my duties as the keeper of pain? 

I know why parents cry, and I know the fear 
felt in their hearts when they sit and watch 
their child lowered into the ground.  It is the 
lost of innocents that they morn, or the fact 
that this soul will never have a chance to live.  
Should I embrace the sadness that is not mine, 
so to appreciate the love held by those when 
love is lost?

I know what it takes to break a heart, and I 
know the sound it makes when it starts to 
crumble.  The screams that go on inside when 
there is no one outside to direct this feeling.  
I know the feeling left when that heart lay in 
pieces and the emptiness those pieces fall into 
when a soul has lost its reason for living.

Should I cry out in anger, or should I look for 
all the reasons why this emotion should 
happen?  No! I should just let it all pass while 
I wait for my turn to be over.////

Copyright © Arnold Henry | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina | |

MY NOSTALGIC MOOD

Abundant rains pelt
on the window's foggy glass
with a rhythm too sad;
mist, raindrops and dreariness
deepen my nostalgic mood:
when sunshine was felt at noon....


The orchard's petals 
adorn the small cupid's head
over the fountain:
an oasis for robins;
today, they don't warble,
but sip water from their well...
 

From this window-sill,
daisies, dangling from their vase,
struggle on their stems  
only to commiserate, 
with their sympathetic glance,  
my nostalgic mood of brighter days...


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina | |

NOBLE TROUBADOUR

Noble troubadour making untrue verse,
while traveling from town to town on the dustiest roads,
reciting the lamenting lyrics to yourself,
and the echo is louder than words of folly growing within;
hold your anger inside, let it explode
in the castle's Great Hall, where all will listen, indeed! 



Monarchy is an undefeatable fortress,
and below you seem not to fret;
enter it when the trumpets announce
the king's arrival in a golden coach
pulled by stallions who snort at your sight,
but you fearlessly follow them before the wooden gate closes on the bridge.



Noble troubadour decrying a denied liberty, making
your living writing undesirable, undeserved odes,
you're forced to lie and please your demanding king
who manipulates your behavior by tight strings;
should you offer no praises or allegiance to the crown...
you'll be charged with disloyalty and treason! See yourself in the torture room!



There's a limit to your patience bearing the guilt,
and be able to lift it off your chest...it will crush you under its weight,
until your reason turns into discernible madness,
and rising up from your sore knees, you'll relinquish your duty...
to regain your freedom from a kingdom built on obedience and vanity;
and what will be the the outcome of your refusal to bow down?...The peace of a free spirit!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina | |

THE POSSESSIONS OF A YOUNGER AGE

Every boy has his toys,
and each girl her dolls;
and as they grow they are put away where light can't enter:
there in that closet, which often memory recalls
how delightful and merry their days were,
but wishing for a return is a constant, useless  prayer...



Everyone once had the possessions of a younger age,
some were precious and memorable, others simply painful and vacant; 
and who can remember being hugged and truly loved by all?
Many still reminisce the sad thought of having been offered none at all,
and how they longed to have felt a little, sweet taste! 
Nobody desired that more than I did, and only mother provided that!



Blue-bells seemed blither than I.. colored flowers that have no feel,
no soul to express their joy or sorrow, had I become like them?  
Larks and mockingbirds weren't as malcontent as I was indeed;
all they wished for was some rain and the quietest place to rest!
Oh, how much sympathy I felt...with no one loving them, but their Creator;
and my circumstances affirmed how true that really was for me to declare! 



An evil doer can be a father, who denies his children profound affection;
malice or thoughtlessness scars the hearts of the tender ones,
to become a malady or blight that leaves many fragments of broken lives;
and shouldn't someone grab them by the scruff of their necks, 
and put some sense into them when they intentionally induce pain?
This snarl...rebelled at such atrocity, although no slaps could prevent those tries!  


Husbands love your wives devotedly, 
mistresses are the cause of your adultery;
would the faithful ones pursue an extramarital affair?
And what are the consequences of your sin and surliness?
A curse from God for many generations,
to deny your little ones the possessions of a younger age!  


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina | |

The Passage

A young man’s walk was careful,
As he strode through the passage. 
The walls were dotted with a red
That refused to be washed away with water.
The young man’s memory still pictured the fangs,
As they plunged into the neck of the woman.

The infirmary was in charge of the woman
Now. The hands of the nurses were careful 
As they tended to her wounds. The beast’s fangs
Killing her. A bible was brought and a passage 
Was read. The twisting and turning of the water
That dripped down her face made her cheeks red.

The young man’s face was painted red
With fury. The one dying on the bed was his woman,
His wife. The walls he passed oozed with slime and water.
To sneak upon the beast in slumber, he must care o’ full
Not to stumble. A room appeared at the end of his passage,
The evidence of the beast’s presences was made by the work of his fangs.

The victim lay dreaming of the gleaming white fangs,
That punctured her neck. The blood trickling out was crimson red.
She scrambled to reach the safety of the passage,
But the reason for her tumble was her clothing of a woman.
They were not made for escaping even if one was careful,
Her terror caused her eyes to water.

In his pocket, the young man stored a vile of holy water,
And a wooden stake to end the reign of the evil beast’s fangs.
The young mans creep must not have been as careful,
As he thought for the beast sat up, his eyes a blood red.
A flutter of frantic thoughts ran through his mind, mostly the woman.
He glanced once more, before he faced it, at his safety…the passage.

The words drew to a close, the ending of the passage.
The elderly nurse brought a glass to her lips, water.
The eyes gave one last flicker, the body one last shudder as the woman
Died. A flash across the sky, two bolts struck the ground, fangs.
The beast saw naught but red,
His body fell; he smiled as he passed on. The victor’s step over the fallen was 
careful.

His stride up the passage was careful as he went to see her.
He ran water over his hands to wash away the red.
He saw her last, his woman, no more then a victim of the fangs. 

Copyright © Hannah Goddard | Year Posted 2006

Details | Sestina | |

THE DECEPTIVE ENTITY

Materialistic things fulfill us temporarily...trifling with our emotions, 
but their shallowness is discerned with bitterness:
when they can't save a life even with invoked mercy so tense...
as powerlessness turns into hopelessness;
can faith help us make the painless transaction into the eternal realm,
without fighting the menacing darkness bringing in a tremulous scream?


Separating ourselves from the deceptive entity
is the wisest thing humans can do, to avoid
the misleading fact that anguish doesn't exist,
or that regret isn't stronger than sympathy;
sorrow is a passable trouble, which makes us somber,
and somehow deepens the furrows on our sour faces!


Prophets, saints and holy persons thought deeply and understood this,
devoting their lives to a more rewarding vocation,
which demanded great sacrifices in return for salvation; 
and today, in this era of sophistication and unbelief,
do we see any real ones, not the impostors who seek fame,
and proclaim their intrepid message to shelter themselves from blame?



Unscrupulous financiers, like Madoff, and bankers drain accounts with remorseless intent,
and when they are caught...they choose suicide over punishment;
is this the world you like to live in...with fraudulent individuals, who cause
tougher economic times to satisfy their greed at the expense of others?
Questions can become doubts that draw a negative response to any survey,
sacredness is valued more when we separate ourselves from the deceptive entity! 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009