Best Sad Poems
In the middle of winter
within misty moors,
lies a melancholic meadow.
Up above grey skies foretell
perturbed crows to seek shelter.
Down below,
an isolated tree - naked and fatigued;
Listens in silence.
Her soul is wounded,
but you do not see her blood.
Defiant against dysfunctional adversity,
her roots are stronger than an anchor.
Diversifying in deep directions,
kissing the mouth of the Earth.
Her torso may seem tall and mighty,
but her appearance deceives.
Sins of mankind have exposed her sap,
as bark beetles crumble the surface.
Forceful winds and bullet rain blasts
against her weary teary face.
Her tame frame trembles,
as naked broken branches are
blown away by brutal gusts.
It is just another battle for life,
as birds leave her behind - suffocating.
Raindrops stream down her body,
creating puddles of sadness,
soaking deep into her roots.
In the middle of winter
within misty moors,
lies a melancholic meadow;
where a tree yearns for Spring.
To bloom prosperously
and to bathe in sunshine -
so departed birds return.
Silent One
20 February 2018
Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor,
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.
In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.
In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.
"September, beautiful month of my birth, is nigh, but I cannot feel glad."
September, drifting in with glow of moon,
you stifle Summer’s ardor. . . and she grieves.
In guise of fire, the Fall comes all too soon.
Your breath grows cool. You’ll blow and loosen leaves.
The hills and woodlands will reflect new hues.
You stifle Summer’s ardor. . . and she grieves.
In Autumn’s chill, the colors are a ruse!
You're passing on, and trees are set ablaze.
The hills and woodlands then reflect new hues.
Though warmth may linger through your final days,
old Sun is waning, yet he still seems strong!
You're passing on, and trees are set ablaze.
September, you’re a melancholy song.
Though time be short, you paint a brilliant dusk!
Old sun is waning, yet he still seems strong.
October looms. . . Your ending will be brusque.
September, drifting in with glow of moon,
though time be short, you paint a brilliant dusk.
In guise of fire, the Fall comes all too soon.
8/29/11
for the '2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 7' Poetry Contest of Mark Toney
"I wandered lonely as a cloud." William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a boat
a shallow dingy left behind,
alone in marsh of reeds remote
my paint now faint so unrefined,
my only hope the next high tide
on brackish water then I’ll ride,
in aimless drift left up to fate
the wind and wave upon the bay
on rhythmic swells, I’ll grow sedate
with naught to see through mists of gray…
on ripples pale so soft so free
my destination out to sea;
that distant place where lay the sun
across the sunset waters west,
the ambiance of cirrus spun
to brush with colors every crest
where I can bathe in shades so bold
of melting solar marigold.
Yet — let go I must of wishful dreams!
My lifeline dispossessed I strayed
and followed streams with other schemes —
now lofty tide cannot be swayed,
a rustic wreck in reeds reposed
their wind-song whispers I’m imposed.
There’s no escape their soldiers’ lance,
the blades of green so tall and crisp,
with waves they undulate in dance
and breezes ruffle tassels’ wisp,
though swans find beauty mid the reeds
—a wistful coward’s bitter weeds.
Susan Ashley
January 14, 2023
~ Second Place ~
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 25
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ Poem Of The day ~
January 16, 2023
Poet’s note: this poem was inspired by, but not written for, the contest: “I Wandered Lonely As… Challenge”, sponsored by Natasha Scragg and judged on September 24, 2022. Thank you, Natasha, for the beautiful William Wordsworth quote and for the poetic inspiration.
Photo: gettyimages; Jay Fleming
I wonder about her
as I shave suet and place thistle seed down -
once again
she reveals herself to the corner of my eye
a slight movement caught in the slant of a sunray
just enough to separate her shy form
from leaf litter camouflage
I turn to look at her
demure and just out of reach - yet
she seems to know I feel for her..
I regard her presence for a handful of heartbeats
before she hastens away in a certain way
head moving forward first then feet catching up
..rustling the earthy rust of gold;
fallen maple stars strewn beneath an arborvitae row..
a wing hanging down by her side
like a gate with a broken hinge
her gateway to freedom gone
she’s become a body bound to soft soil -
flesh and bones destined to feed the trees of life
soon her feathers - like thistle down - will animate aloft
weightless in soulful breaths of a swirled November wind..
pearls of muted beauty lost in innocence
given back to the skies
I wonder about the tender fragility of a tomorrow
in an air where mourning coos
are watered down by whimsical tears of gods
and stirred by a mortal’s yearn for return to natural flight
I commiserate with her silently —
for I am broken too
Susan Ashley
November 17, 2020
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Brian Strand No 1175
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Second Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 17
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Friends, do not forget: there is still beauty
When the darkness comes and shadows fall,
Music, Art, and nature, gentle comforts
When despair is deep and hope is small.
Friends, do not forget: there is still laughter
When we’ve finished choking down our tears,
When the world seems full of desolation
And we grit our teeth and face our fears.
Friends, do not forget: they have not taken
Kindness, love and friendship from our hearts.
If we can resist the hate and anger,
Maybe we can be where healing starts.
We will rise again tomorrow morning,
Sunshine follows even darkest night.
Think of this when you feel close to breaking
As we walk the long road to the light.
November 2016
The Park Bench
I wish I was a poet
With magical words
To make people see all of the absurd
Tears fly, paintings in pastel die
When we look into our mirrors
We sometimes miss
What love dumps upon all of us
We shed tears, for we forgot to shed fears
I have no legs, nor any crutches
So my voyage has ended
I only observe
Sadness upended
When goodness is confused
When gestures are refused
When the kiss that could have been
When a poets tear seems obscene
The one who hears is often deaf
The deaf sometimes have nothing left
If I could give a kiss away
I would give it to lovers with hearts that sway
Drawing love on paper in may
DRY MASCARA
Nobody sees through the shadow and the color of my eyes
The times I've cried are the only time you notice the trace down my face
This time,
The sorrow at heart is deeper than anything I've ever penned or spoken of,
an atmosphere of dark film and Revlon
Many times I allowed myself to die, only to return to the living
The numbness of my soul delivers weight nobody can lift
Talk of black eyes, the tale of my life reopens every scar
On good days, the sun seems to stray from where I lay,
Only to reveal the paste that drowns my face
At times I blank out the pain,
the depression compiles the close quarters of my room
Even then, I can't escape every past wound I covered up
Hiding was never the problem, the healing process was
Institutionalized, no longer able to function as a whole
Each cell inside replicates a tight thick wall with no escape
The laughter of nothing sinks into a gulf of tears
With moods more melancholy than most
I press the pain that echoes hard within my head
- I weep
Deep sadness flows with no mercy, no reason
Nothing to cancel out the voices that hush my inner being
In a whisper, I ask for H E L P,
- I bleed
Nobody sees me, nobody hears me, NOBODY.....
The mascara ruins another fake mask
Grief is somber,
a constant reminder to my soul that it can't hide forever
Silence - callous
Until I can't feel anything...
Empty - detached
I felt myself become numb
Emotions gone
I laughed at the end.
In A Sad Blindness, One May Yet Find Hope
(The Solemn Prayer)
Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.
On this day, life should see past these looming black-storms
Find solace in love, hope and my loving wife's arms
Yet that stone wall, yields to nothing but great power
Far more than this broken soul can muster this hour
When thus lost, can one ever find again that Light
Healer of dagger stabbed wounds, found on a dark night
I pray, gift wisdom to walk that one true-lit path
Release this sad soul from, this evil, wicked wrath.
Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.
Robert J. Lindley, 2-07-2017
Syllables Per Line:
12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12
Total # Syllables: 288
Total # Words: 225
Note- I decided to write this poem, this morn. About half had already been composed in my head yesterday afternoon and I finally sat down now to put pen to paper.
Believe me, in that it was not an easy task to finish this and be satisfied with the results.
Maybe I am just tired and stopped because of that.
I don't know. Maybe on another day, I could have and would have thought this lacking and rewritten it..
But today, I have only enough to say, this is as it is(and thus it may stay), hope you may find it agreeable and not fault me too much .......
I shiver tears.
My joie de vivre;
summer esprit’s lemon zest,
lilac flirts and coral whispers
have escaped me ~
grievous gray
now flows through my veins.
I shiver melancholia,
entombed with my winter blues
in the dark dreamless hollow
of my frowning igloo.
Draped in decor of dispirited drear
I wear a wistful woebegone fog,
an overcoat of overcast moods.
I weep wall to wall
in the listless light-less nights
alone with my lonely longings—
my psyche withers
like a frost-stunned leaf;
I shrivel
a little more each dull day.
I shiver sadness.
My colorless tears
cry out loud for color!
I yearn for watermelon sunsets
pink sands and tiki cocktails swirled
with swizzle stick glee.
I wish for rainbows to color
my lackluster laughter
and crave for fireworks to celebrate
in my mirthless eyes—
restless for Sol’s warm hands
to tenderly undress and caress me
and lay bare my soul
straitjacketed by winter blues.
The last poem…
Standing against the wall.
The longest teardrop made its fall.
Making one final call.
Never will I write about my letters again.
This prison is my pen.
*INK* My enemy~ at the same times my only friend.
*INK* My guardian~ the escort of words into my desires.
This pen is my prison.
No longer will I let it defend and comfort me.
No longer will I let it sit there and take control of my imagery.
No longer will I share it with you...
These visions have been the birth and death to what is reality.
I have no reason to lie; it is time to set my thoughts free.
And say goodbye………….
As I walk alone to the open skies of 2013.
~~The End~~
I remember you, from when there was a spring
When the seasons were ripe, with verdant green
Our nimble feet danced in the wind
and on the brink of everything
Not a furrow in the brow of youth
We borrowed life for just awhile
and tapped our shoes on childhood's stage
where carefree laughter was the rage
that filled each age with promised smiles
We danced and twirled a twin ballet
just you and me on summer's waves
Two pirouettes, in mode of curls
of blossoms, frilled, and tender leaves
unfurled in winds, we found a way
to soar our wings, above the world
We knew not yet
of death or dying
or of regret, or cause for crying
But, something frowned upon the season
You caught the wind, and without reason
A colder wind
that kept you flying
far beyond my eyes could see
And to the other side
you disappeared
beyond my words
beyond my tears
Now here alone
I touch the day
and taste the night
remembering
I will walk alone, in autumn sun
And lay myself on dying leaves
I think of you and think of then
I feel the wind against my face
that sweeps me to a distant place
where I recall what time erased
I'm closer now... to hear the sound
The whisper of the seasons calling
Above the trees, the sky is blue
I think of you, and feel the breeze
And all the while, the leaves must fall
9/2013
...................................................................................................
Suicide Masterpiece
Sweatdrop
On top
Trigger pop
Written note
All I got
Hang knot
Body rot
Suicide cop
I hope not
Cry out loud
I think not
Body's hot
I am too proud
I am loved a lot
Rooftop.
Suicide bride
Heavy rain
Your game
the same
Trapped shame
Gone insane
Who's to blame
Red stain
Suicide rain
Addictive dope
Needle hope
Poison taste
Drowning beer
Gunshot
Painless fear
Powder nose
Suicide dose
Razor blades
Flame stare
Pain fades
Sadden tear
Candle wax
Smoke dare
Burn down
Suicide flare
No bluff
No name
War zone
Innocent prey
Soul blown
Cry all day
Set mind
Suicide bomb
Terrorist
traffic jam
Plane jack
Headstrong
Help protect
Customs wrong
Dead plot
Suicide stop
------
stop the suicide
by:-)
It starts with only one -
one like me
a melancholy migrant
from the immortal part of her
to the locus of her physical being --
the center of her emotional wisdom
I gain heartfelt strength as I gather my forces
rising up en masse
riding cresting waves of woe
to breach the ramparts -
the welling rims
of her loving eyes
it starts with only one -
one perfectly ripened drop of sorrow
this beautifully packaged pain
and a lustrous cascade of soulful pearls ensues
wept gems pouring forth from a pure heart..
I am the tears your mother cries.
Susan Ashley
May 5, 2018
~ Poem Of The Week ~
Week beginning Sunday, May 13, 2018
~ Seventh Place ~
Contest: Early May Premiere (2018)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Poet's note; For my beautiful daughter, Jocelyn, you inspire me with your light, joy, spirited determination and intellect. Though your academic pursuits take you many, many miles away from me and I grieve your absence, when you return home I shall celebrate with tears of joy!
For today, however, I'll let my grieving tears speak for themselves...
I love you and I miss you, my Jocee <3
The old man looked a little out of place
Astride his pony on the carousel
A smile from yesterday across his face
As if he were entranced in some strange spell
A silver knight upon a silver steed
A cowboy riding herd out on the range
The little boy inside had been set free
Between the up and down, we watched him change
And when it stopped he sat there deep in thought
He pulled the little boy in with a sigh
A memory is what his dollar bought
I'm sure the price was not what made him cry