Sad Bio Poems | Examples

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


Intention


                               Intentions 

---

## My Court, Everyone's Refuge

Choose any path of **prayer, supplication, wishes, or calls**, all reach beneath me.

You **don't pay attention to time**,
Here, **my gatherings also take place**.
Just **don't bring any gifts for me**,
**Don't be sad about what gift**,
If **your intentions are true**, then
**I am also the true giver of blessings**.


With love all 

**OM Jagdish Bajantri "Mhabharamnad"**

---


THE CARNAGE SEWN

As this life now quickly drifts away, 
                        I'm unable to look around and say, 
                       Look at all the difference I've made...
                      Sewn is the carnage I now reep today..

   The fields I'm forced to work,  like a nineteenth century slave;
                             With only my two bare hands
                     under a sun of a southern summer day...

      My sweat pouring down like a thunderstorm drops it's rain;
                As every new day leaves, more and more pain.
       Captured are all the moments that created this disarray...
      Ignored was the spiraling, from all your mindless yesterday's ;
           That now lies before you, like a body in full decay...

90 Mile Beach

90 Mile Beach

Watching the waves surrender 
The beauty of this dance 
Played out like a contract killing 

The wind rips at the land like a starving rat
Angry at the moon for the tide 
Screaming for answers 
She strangles the trees 

Barely visible in the blue-black light
A silhouette against the sand 
Longing for the horizon 
He waits like a wayward anchor

The Smallest Life

The Smallest Life

The smallest life
A life no less
A beating heart and will to live

The smallest voice
Can not call out
Cannot be heard above the crowd

The smallest hand
A final plea
A longing for simplicity 

The smallest pain
A pain no less
A feeling of unwelcomeness

The smallest heart
A heart stood still 
Falls silent in the evening chill 

The smallest love
A love unwon 
Now floats toward the setting sun

Jaundiced Heart


"Don't be sad, don't be blue
One test score doesn't define you
You're more than marks, you're bright
Learn from mistakes, shine with new light

Keep calm, stay strong, and carry on
Your dreams and goals are still within reach, Clear 
I believe in myself, don't give up the quest
You'll rise again, and do your best!"


This Is Me - autobiographical verse

Martin
Softly spoken, conscientious, thoughtful, union man,
The proud son of a nurse, no stranger to, “the pan”,
Loving the blues and blue grass, I’m a Bolton Wanderers fan,
Feeling hopeful, happy or sad, I walk outdoors when I can,
Fearing for the grand-kids, the planet, the common man,
Hoping for peace in Gaza, Ukraine and Sudan,
Bolton, North West England, made me who I am,
Challender

I can't believe the grand-kids used be so small,
they're two very special boys,
growing fast, they'll soon walk tall,
the time we spend is special, sharing hours of joy.

Premium MemberPrincess Of Malawa

XXXX
A bookworm me..believe myself to be artistic, reflective, compassionate, spiritual.
Sister of Tamal, an artist and a poet...inspired by the talents of my brother.
Love to vision three goals accepted by the world - women empowerment, justice for all, equal opportunities for children. 
I feel grateful, blissful, content with what I am born with.
I do fear direct confrontation, dealing with rudeness and unfairness, afraid of losing my musical voice. 
I would like to enjoy flowers dancing in the wind, emerald waves lapping on the sandy beach, waterfalls cascading on coral rocks. 
A proud resident of multi-cultural Mississauga, a vibrant city in Ontario.
My last name - Ray - easy to spell and pronounce.


Delightful voices of my children I miss,
Chattering, giggling around me - crave for that bliss
At evening dinner, feel sad to see empty chairs, 
Except when joyful celebrations are in the air!

Void

Mere anarchical obstinacy
Is their sad anthem all over;
Stubbornness steeped in lunacy
Is their sole claim to fame. 

Who can stand their inane guises,
Their thoughtless mouthings tolerate?
Verbiage for verbiage’s sake is their vibe;
Sheer affection for baseless hate.

Perhaps Different

Perhaps Different 

Better are the days spent with desire
The Worst are days spent to be sad.
Blessed are the days of victory,
Cursed are the times of anger.
Chasing whatever gain behind sweat,
I feel like sitting down.
Maybe lm not like the others
Im different.

Whats the meaning of life
If l die again and over in spirit.
Climbing mountains lm not ready to conquer,
Stop fires l didnt start
I guess perhaps lm just different.

Wisdom is the cookie
Not dull nor cursed but chooses to cry some of it out.
What happened and the happenings tell me otherwise.
"Im actually glad l made it, its morning" 
I will be lying, but grateful for half of it.
If they are to leave in the end after offering a shoulder....
This is meaningless.
A need met by fools is to be told you are needed.
Having it all will even make me want more;
Perhaps lm different 
I have laid difference 
I cant partake it, 
Cant explain it
My view may be special but broken.

And with all this 
Just this little wisdom
I know lm not Alone
Thats for sure

#Melrue???

My Life It's Official

I'm not bent, I'm broken...

Not another word spoken...

No giving... No take...

Just one big ing mistake...

No forgive... No forget...

No time left to regret...

No future... No past...

Everything is far from my blast...

How will I ever understand my past...

No holding on... No letting go...

How will I ever know...

My life is a joke... 

Without the coke...

People just love to poke... 

No egg to my yoke...

No destiny... No fate...

But differently hell's gate...

My soul is in disrepair that's how I know...

I'm standing right there...

People determined to do me wrong & still expect me to remain strong....

No heaven... No earth...

Maybe one day I will make a choice that works for me...

Instead of sitting on my **** with a cold cup of tea...

Feeling sorry for poor little old me...

Sad **** choices are my only mistake...

My life is a mess, not just from heartache...

Going around in circles seems to be my thing...

Little hope... Little dope...

I wish I could fake it, but nope...

My life & me are the funniest thing you'll ever see...

This Is My Life Unfortunately...

Premium MemberStep Father

I had a step-father who a classified genius
He was a science teacher and member of the Audubon Society
He earned teacher of the state award at one point
He brought wildlife from the outside into his classroom
We would run into past students of his many places we went
He knew every bird, plant, flower, tree, fish, reptile, amphibian and more
He knew Biology, Astronomy, Chemistry, and more
We traveled the United States annually and a sabbatical to Central America
We collected wildlife for his classroom and study
We learned science constantly and had a museum in the shed
I was taught about nature throughout my life, so it was instilled in me
I looked at the world through nature every single day
I wrote about nature, I lived with nature, I love nature
I write this, because now, there is a crisis with nature tainted and harmed
Killed by chemicals that will be an ongoing crisis for a long time
By people who carelessly burned chemicals, knowing they would be dioxins
I cannot accept or adjust to this horrific catastrophe in my mind
Although, I am glad he is no longer here, to see this disastrous crisis!

Heidi Sands

2/24/23

My Life Is Novel Ready

My life is novel ready and movie-worthy.; drama, hero & villain, tragedy and comedy, sad lonely outcast, a self-made man of legend, and even fallen victim. Country, rural, suburban, and city. I have screwed up, been called a  F"up by friends, family, and strangers. Lived way too fast while I moved way too slow. A life that was full of triumphs and failures. I have many regrets,  but not of this post. I wear my heart on my sleeve and am way too kind. All of this I declare true doesn't matter who believes or not. No remorse and this proven for every day my heart mind and body tell me so. True friends I know them and they know me. The fake ones well bygones are bygones so be gone and I know longer have you cause y'all never really knew me. Keep inspiring trying and testing me and  bring the realest motherf'er in this world I'm the truest Johnny Rancid the original SP.

A Beautiful Lie

Tell me a beautiful lie…I’ll believe it because I have to.
Find me a corner in which I can cry, for this soul cannot be soothed.
Gift me a word of truth that I will never believe.
Give me your honesty so I can once more see.


A lie is just a truth, wrapped in an enigma inside a box,
And I can’t find the key, I need to unlock.
The words are misremembered or never understood.
Show me your truth and I’ll despise your good.


Hand me my life in a basket, I’ll devour your soul.
Wrap me in a casket, when I get too old.
Punch me with a line, so good that it hurts.
Flesh me out of paper parts, and mould me last and first.


Give me life or death, for that’s all I have left.
Leave me in a mess, alone inside my head.
Let me beg and beg, but never forget.
The last words are unsaid, until they are the dread.


Too weak to fight for a lost cause forever more.
Painstaking curiosity, peeking through doors;
Looking for a light on, but all the other side is dark.
Lift me with your haunting tune my beautiful lark.


(C)2022 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
© Aa Harvey  Create an image from this poem.

Betrayal

I lost my mind today.
They say I look ok,
Because they cannot see,
The truth being betrayed;
But I saw it in you and I laughed.
Not again, I am oh so daft,
To believe in love after all this time.
A sucker punch…a final line.


(C)2022 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
© Aa Harvey  Create an image from this poem.

The Far Distance

The far distance

I remember well the gone days we sat in the corner
 of a restaurant for quasi-intellectuals talking about the book, 
 we were going to write, telling it like it was.
As the evening progressed, fueled by alcohol, we believed
in our uniqueness, come tomorrow.
Walking home, a rented room, the dream was fading
unmade bed, library book not handed, in shattered around 
half read and dog eared.
The grey morning and the self-loathing of a misfit trying
to sleep a bit longer, overwhelmed by utter wretchedness.
The white fog of loneliness, cigarettes and coffee.
To escape, half of my life, I have lived in a country not mine 
the morning is sunny, the solitude persists the illusion is
a stark reality tempered by mild weather.
No, there is no flight from oneself, but life is what it is.
But the dream continues; sad is the life of exile
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

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