Best Pain Sad Poems
A WISH -- In Memory Of
"I Wish"
I wish I could blow air into your little lungs,
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world.
Hold your little body warm,
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....
I wish,
I could look into your daring eyes,
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts!
~~~
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
~~~
How I wish you could be,
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?
Mostly, I WISH grandma could fix this and make
your mommy feel, the joy she was robbed of.
In memory of my grandson: ---Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013 --- RIP March 25, 2013
----------
by;PD :-(
Sitting upon the shore
time seems to move so slow.
Watching waves I adore
as reflecting stars glow
Tonight this night is mine
just me and the mute moon.
Tepid breeze feels so fine,
as birds sing their sweet tune.
Mind begins to ponder,
why life sometimes goes wrong.
Thoughts begin to wander,
fed up of being strong.
Sad eyes gaze into space,
tongue utters a deep sigh.
Rain drops caress my face,
masking tears, I can't cry.
Life's questions defeat me
answers I'll never find.
Waves rush in from the sea,
tide surge plays with my mind.
Their call sounds so violent,
soul yearns to drown in them.
Heart tells mind: be silent!
Sweet songs it starts to strum.
Thoughts tame, turning tranquil,
sunshine brightens dark skies.
Rainbow smile brings goodwill,
as phoenix spirits rise.
Silent One
21 January 2018
Experimenting with 6 syllables per line.
Reverie …
Maybe I was dreaming, the season was the spring,
Blissful, joyful, youthful, I lived it like a king.
Maybe I was dreaming, when the mirror was my friend.
hair was black as midnight, and smiles were not pretend.
Maybe I was dreaming of running back and forth,
running after sunset or wind that came from north.
Maybe I was dreaming, my dream was young and bold,
Now my days are gloomy and nights are getting cold.
Maybe I was dreaming, mom was there with a smile
Hugged me, kissed me, and loved me, even for a while.
Maybe I was dreaming, when flying with no wing.
Dancing dauntless, and thinking, death will never sing.
Maybe I was dreaming the sweetest dream of all,
Laughing with my father while tears began to fall.
Maybe I was dreaming, when playing hide and seek,
Woke up one day, found out I am sick and also weak.
Let me be in dreamland do not wake me up.
In dreams, I am drunken, pour me one more cup.
Let me be in dreamland, the sky is brighter there,
I am always blissful, and love to breathe that air.
Let me be in dreamland, like children I can run.
Like dawn in the mornings, who melts in loving sun.
Let me be in dreamland, my days are always dark.
Darkness is so painful; all I need is a spark.
Let me be in dreamland, “Haloo” lives in dreams.
He knows what the dreams are as sweet as it seems.
4/13/2022 Haloo
The heat on the street more than I can take
hem hiked high above my bony knees
spread slightly apart so I can breathe
I sit in the stifling air on a stony stoop
there’s no relief from the panting
my face stained with sweat and bad luck
the heave of my heavy breaths work
against the sticky cling of my spandex dress
my ribs confined by the constrict of fabric
or maybe it’s the feeling of my shrinking skin
—yes it’s hard to breathe
I lick a salty trickle falling on my lips
teary eyes swollen from the violence of a trick
a john who didn’t see the beauty beyond
vivid blue and red against white skin—
my body like the American flag for Christ’s sake!
but in the back-alley filth nobody’s patriotic
scabs and bruises distract from needle tracks
people only see what’s on the surface
afraid to see a trembling girl
hidden beneath the grime of shame
and the crime of syringes and burnt spoons —
I’m afraid too — to see the girl in the mirror
a veiled child jailed behind the glass
no I only see the next knot tied around a pulse
I avoid myself— the addict in the mirror
my dope sick eyes haunted decades older
oh older than nineteen years of beaten misery
hollow dope sick eyes once long ago large
lustrous like black pearls
until found by furious fists
Fantasy sold on a 50’s bottle cap;
a party-girl side-saddle sits
on a double-edged crescent moon
up high—a silver scythe in glamour-night-sky
corners of her cherry mouth tilted up
her left hand raises her glass a toast to the stars
frothy head of champagne-beer flirts
with lips spooning the rim
right hand holds the bottle instead of reality
look! no hands on a razor’s edge
precarious hilarious
a redhead with bouncy-curls and a flouncy-skirt
boot-heels over head when she laughs and Oops! falls
clouds catch her without friction and pillow her fiction head ~
but you—with wild escapade eyes—fell hard
far beyond Earth with not a soft cloud to cushion you
glam-allure just a sexy lore a filthy lure
but once you’ve been star-dusted and angel-dusted
it’s all the same…
vintage Miller bottle cap
a perfect circle like the fattened moon face
leering through broken windows
shards glitter the floor like fallen constellations
your black pearl eyes two muddy puddles
life drained through rows of tiny needle holes
slip-knot above your elbow just tight enough
your pulse beats its fist against the restraint
pounding—pounding—pounding
impatient to be bled and fed
you and this dragon’s den a dilapidated pair
abandoned and without family
you share the blank stare of broken windows
veins collapsed like crumbled staircases
empty inside of empathy and dreams—
a junkie’s spot where shooting stars crash
embers in your bloodstream turn to dust
you cook in a rusted bottle cap by candlelight
candle’s glow your Sun in a dirty universe
you pull back on the syringe with your teeth
this house unused by the living—a cold corpse
but in the warm rush of your skin’s flush
your gaunt gray body melts like hot wax
pale horsehair walls a slouchy silent witness
... your soul escapes as it scrapes across the floor
flurries blow in through broken windows
whirl of wind whistles on its rounds like a jailhouse guard
rattling beam-bones jangling ghost-bones—
user-litter scattered
like broken-wish bones
burnt fingertips and a "High Life" bottle cap
all that’s left
A bird, caged in jealous possession,
by silent assassins of suppression.
Fate took her voice, as she flew to be free,
now her songs are whispers of misery.
Is she a victim of reality,
drifting into realms of insanity.
Childhood trauma effects her mentally,
confused why humans act so venally.
Waiting for her loved ones to return home,
she's developed guardian angel syndrome.
Helping others, despite her own torment,
soothing their burdens whilst they lament.
Her bilingual tongue suffers in silence,
but at least her heart is safe from violence.
The Silent One
8 October 2020
This poem is not about me. I'm not a woman.
I have stuck to ten syllables, but I know the meter is not perfect.
She looks out the window and sees him in the distance.
So much fear inside leaves no room for resistance.
If she ran right now she might be able to get away.
With every broken rib she's nothing more than a cliche.
She was once a strong woman, and could stand on her own.
Now he's broken her will and more than one bone.
Run, run, run her mind screams in shear terror.
She unlocks the door without so much as a prayer.
Maybe this time will be different and he won't be mad.
Somehow she has to tell him he's about to be a dad.
She should have taken that card and called the hot line.
Her whole world changed as soon as she got the plus sign.
If she can make it thru the night she'll pack up and leave.
Somewhere deep inside she knows that's only make believe.
She's his till the end, come hell or high water.
There's nothing anyone can do about the oncoming slaughter.
The National Domestic Violence
Hot Line 1-800-799-7233
Tell me why, but tell me True-
Spare me the heartbreak of a Lie
I would lay forever in these meadows...
Forever, until I die!
To rid myself of all the Pain,
And the Sorrows of what I feel
To ease my Mind, my worried Brain
(Lord! The Cuts! I need to heal)
*Referring to my problems with "Borderline Personality Disorder"; many of us are "cutters"
She looks down her nose
At the locals in the town square
As she sips tea from her fine china cup
Pinky in the air
Criticising and complaining
Judging one and all
Negativity runs through her veins
Only she matters….all others insignificant and small
In the evening in the seclusion of her mansion
She sits by the fire wine glass in hand
Surrounded by her riches
Alone in her own wealthy land
In her empty home
With her empty soul
She sits alone in silence
As her tears overflow
The kingdom of the unknown
I see it clearly
Tears for suffering
Crying for the lost blood
The pain
Lightning as flashes
I'm falling deep
My soul becomes stretched
Burning pain
The shades of blue
I'm sorry
I will never show you my scars
20.07.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Waning love is a cold diamond thing
The hurt pressure
from the thought of losing you
is such a hard burden
Squeezing the hope out of me
Heavy-hearted acceptance ain’t easy,
especially when the weeping pang of separation
comes prematurely rushing through
Day by day,
I get premonition pulse signals of distress
Diamond bit by bit,
I receive this coal crushing feeling
And the hurt pressure
changes the beauty of what once did exist
Your vow of discontentment is tearing us apart
Day by day
Making our bond weaker
every 24/7 ...
I do feel a new heartbreak
Your ice cold eyes tell me the love flame
is no longer lit
As your heart becomes more
Diamond bit by bit
Pointed act of your future departure
pierces my mind deeply
As this soon-to-be severed heart pleads empty
Affectionate feelings voiced are on the decline,
your dispassionate vow sound
has a hollow golden ring
Echoes of neglected conciliatory healing
drowns my restless pain
in watery sheets of serrated discomfort
That jagged sharp sound,
thrust hard through my mate severed soul,
has a diamond sting
An asunder carat cutting my heart in half
Broken altar promise darkly coal uttered,
portends of your leaving
Those sacred two words,
once spoken with past caring intensity,
are now double troubling ...
And “I do” know why that is,
because you no longer desire me
Keeping your two-folded arm distance
is a cold diamond thing
As love on the wane wears the bosom hard bling-bling
Day by day,
my evening pillow dreams
get so very misty sigh moist softer
Diamond bit by bit,
my mourn awakenings
get teary pure carbon crystalline
When I remember troubles now long past
Old feelings of despair creep forth afresh
Like specters full of dread that toward me cast
A pall of pain and sorrow in my chest
They rob me of the joys I have today
Diminishing the angels that are near
And to my shame I sometimes let them stay
To torment and to plague my mind with fear
To let them go I will now walk the road
With others who with me look straight ahead
And crying out for heaven’s lighter load
Together we must face and leave them dead
For now I have release from ghosts I knew
They disappear just when I look them through
Standing at the church awaiting his bride,
‘twas meant to be the best day of his life;
When she arrives, she is not by his side.
His bitter tears he can no longer hide,
grieving for the one due to be his wife.
Standing at the church awaiting his bride
The coffin appears; her body inside,
She couldn’t be saved; the cancer was rife.
When she arrives, she is not by his side.
Looking to heaven, he prays God will guide,
giving him succour, at this time of strife.
Standing at the church awaiting his bride,
If she could see him she’d be full of pride;
they will meet again in the afterlife.
When she arrives, she is not by his side,
In his memory she’ll always reside.
his heart is broken; pain cuts like a knife.
Standing at the church awaiting his bride;
when she arrives, she is not by his side.
Contest - Shadow Hamilton – Villanelle’s and Terzanelle’s Only
My first attempt at Villanelle form
11th June 2105
His eyes looked worn and full
of a lonely lifeless existence. Lost
in his world, wandering through.
The heartfelt pains are the
heavy burdens he carries with him.
His body and feet aching from
the miles of foraging through the
cold dark mean, city streets.
The Holidays are hardest for
him as he remembers vaguely
his first Christmas with his parents.
For a moment that thought
brings a warm loving feeling,
engulfing his heart releasing a
tear.
He then sees a family through
a picture window as he slowly walks
by, listening to their joyful
expressions of festivity.
Remembering his and escaping to
avoid the pain of his thoughts of
his family.
His clothes are worn like his teeth.
Needing medical attention, he deals
with the physical pains along with
the mental ones, on his own.
He finally sits down, puts his
hands over his head and breaks
down crying uncontrollably. Releasing
his life's experiences all at once!
Relieving all of his hearts pains,
through tears. Finally giving up!!
Michael Tor 10/6/2015
Love filled nights and petty fights
How could she be so blind, to be left behind
Will you understand ... the pain
He left her without saying goodbye
If she could only turn back time
Will you understand ... the numbness
She's the broken wings of a dove
No reason left to fight anymore
Will you understand ... her loneliness
08.05-2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved