Sad Death Poems | Examples
These Sad Death poems are examples of Death poems about Sad. These are the best examples of Death Sad poems written by international poets.
It's probably best you don't read my work,
For I know there's more bad than good.
If only you could feel what I could,
I know you'd understand why I would.
Giving up,
Or giving in...
I now know,
My life's a sin...
Pushing forward just cannot be,
For I know my destiny...
To just sleep,
Peacefully...
Dear ghost in my wall, do you hear when I call? Do you fear that we all, will disappear? Maybe no. Do you crawl, beneath my bed, while I lie down my head, and I dream of you? I'm sorry that I screamed at you. Do you come out at night? Do you play with my hair? Are you so, unaware that I know? Are you where, there are no more tomorrows? Is it anger that you fight, or is it despair? Is that why, you're still here, living in my wall? Don't be frightened, by the sight of my humanized life. I'm just so insecure, of that light shining there, at the end of that hall. Oh dear, insincere, my biggest fear, I'm talking to you because I'm, in the wall. My God, you're not dead, it was me, that instead, died where I fell, down in that hall. I'm in Hell. I feel unwell, I'm sorry for the way that you all ran away, when I was sad, and haunting y'all. But please say a prayer, because now, I am aware that I'm the ghost, you all fear, that's living, all alone, down in the wall.
I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently?
~Lewis Carroll
The snow softly falls and I am alone
again and I cannot atone
for words I spoke in sullen haste
or for time’s sad begotten waste,
into cold winter I am thrown
into a fantasy, I find my home
and weave a tapestry where you are known
to love me in this imagined place,
while the endless snow softly falls
bitterly around me as I taste
the foolish dreams I longed to chase
into the brutal cold are blown
as they lay me underneath eternal stone~
at last my nameless fears are faced
as the snow continues to softly fall.
There is a black string between you and me.
Every time you pluck, its a trigger for me.
Ever time I pluck, its a trauma for me.
Who decided to give this string its color?
Was it you or was it me or was it us?
Should either of us choose to dye this string.
Will it start to unravel?
Will it start to rot?
Will it start to stiffen?
Will it tighten into a knot?
Will it braid itself into a rope?
And when the Stranger trips on this rope.
Will they cut the hazard?
Will they bury it straight in the ground?
Will they burn it ashes to ashes?
The middle eastern spell that shames the solemn
In shadowed midden dwells the stain now common
In darkness beaten fell in name of goodwill
Our princess peace repels their pain and blood spill
She struggles selfless held in chains by order
Poor passive tranquil, gelled by blames and borders
The stolen fertile meld of reigns now taken
Where powered egos tell of hope forsaken
Let gentle logic down the dames of warfare
Whose metal madness grounds the games to threadbare
Pray mistral mildness pound and maim their story
'Til peaceful light surrounds regaining glory
Sitting on the pavement
Alone I sit
Thinking about the things I will miss.
The days flew by
And all I could do was cry
And cry
And cry.
Never could I speak the words
Never could I say
Because it was too late.
How many times will I wish
that you were still here?
With me...
We could be happy. Here - with our family.
It’s where you belong! It’s what made us so strong!
You were what gave us the drive
to survive!
To conquer our fears,
dry up our tears,
to move on!
And now, you’re gone.
Here I sit.
With problems I can’t fix.
The biggest one is that you’re gone
And I’m thinking about all the things
I wish I’d said.
Because now you’re dead.
I am surrounded
by thousands
And I’m still just so
Alone.
I’d be mad at the world
If you suddenly decided to write your story with a rope
Tied to a ceiling
Or a razor
Glided against your pulse
No one goes out without a story
And your story wasn't perfect
No one's is
But you couldn't write some things in your story
And in your story someone else altered it
To hurt you
So
Some pages are torn and wrinkled
I don't think you can mend all the pages
You can't fully straighten a crumpled paper ball
But you can smooth it out
And try as best as you can to fix it
There will always be scars
Trust me
But scars are healed wounds
And you can alter the future of your story
Always
And scars can fade over time
Or till they leave a tiny mark
Therefore
If your story got too long
And too dark
I wouldn't remember how you went out
Because I'd be too angry at the world
But I'd remember your mark.
-D.B
Pleasure rides,
On...
Pleasant moments
With
Gladdened haste¡
Soaked!
Raw rod richly
Into
Gleeful gap gasping...
Like
An athlete's heart
When
On the finishing line,
To
Feed glucose syrups
For
Sustainable physiological energy.
Aftermath comes,
missing:
Catamenia, informed
Both--
Happily saddened.
Pretense
Strikes minds*
By
An unknown song,
Through
Sweet words to lure
Submission
Assumed right for peace.
Denying
Shame to cover up truth,
Timing
Few months to come.
Having agreed:
They
Disallowed mixed bloody fluid,
Into space awaiting expansion,
To formulating foetus fleeting...
The race of days into months,
Before knocking the soil's door
And have duties land on owners.
Like
Noah's dove; unrest...
Returned to his ark.
So is it; ferment...
Emptied the vessel.
For those who study the cosmos,
There is one fact they will learn,
We are all made of stardust
And to stardust we will return.
So, don’t look for me in just one place,
For it is not where I shall be,
I will be somewhere out in the cosmos,
Scattered, drifting and free,
Helping to build a myriad things,
My everlasting legacy.
...
Perhaps, sad to say,
you're better off departed.
Now you don't have to suffer
the criticism of fools ad nauseum.
Now you have peace...*
For Joe Lowik, photographer extrordinaire, political, philosophical mentor
R.I.P.
You sat next to the fire pit
Sipping your martini, looking for secrets at the bottom of the glass
I bounced on the old trampoline
Dirty
Covered in sticks and leaves
And I jumped avoiding the small rips in the polypropylene
As the sunlight faded
And the fire flies came out
Neither of us even had the thought
That in just two months
One of us would be dead
And the other would be
Running
So fast in the opposite direction
But right then
The air was full of mayflies and the smell of bug spray and summer
And the season is too new.
Too young for its very own tragedy.
I really loved you then
I’ve loved you since I was old enough to remember your face
And I asked you if you were happy
To be there with me
And you told me that you had never been happy And you didn’t elaborate
And I cried myself to my bedroom
And fell asleep with no Kiss goodnight.
Dad, I’m so sorry
I didn’t let you go to my graduation.
I will forever regret that situation.
To my dismay..
I never apologized for that day.
Never made amends..
Wasn’t a good daughter or friend.
I’m sorry Dad.
I’m sorry for every time
I made you sad
Because you were
the best.
Better than all the rest.
I don't know if there's a heaven,
not in the way they say.
Golden gates, bright lights,
or even a list of who gets to stay.
But I know I miss you,
I know how much I love you.
I know a bond as strong as ours
can't possibly just disappear.
Maybe there really is an after,
and it's a beautiful place beyond this pain.
But sometimes when it's quiet,
I swear I hear you calling out my name.
Maybe it's a memory,
It could be just a trick of the mind.
Or maybe it's a soul deep wanting
for that eternity, not of our time.
They say I'm not meant to know the answers,
just follow the rules and his plan.
But honestly, the mom inside of me needs to believe,
I'll see your face again.
So I'll live here in the maybe,
In this painful, aching, empty space.
Not sure of a heaven,
But holding on to the hope
we’ll be together once more someday.
And maybe.. just maybe...
that’s enough for me right now.
Once upon a time, in a town not far from here,
on a day that was not bright, on a day that was not clear,
a boy was born, and the newspaper would say,
"It was a partly cloudy day."
Everybody said, "What an odd little feller".
So, one day, his mother took him to the fortune teller,
but she only said as she drew up her shawl,
"Suddenly, I have a partly cloudy ball."
He met her in the morning, early in the Spring,
and by and by, offered her a diamond ring,
but true love once more eluded -
the gem he gave was cloudy and occluded.
His heart was not broken. It just had a little crack.
He sighed and went home early. Then he hit the sack.
He didn't shed a tear or even cry -
he just blinked upon each partly cloudy eye.
In his head, he puzzled as he lay awake,
but life to him seemed hopelessly opaque,
and his confusion would enshroud
a mind partially covered by a cloud.
The years, one by one, eventually passed
by the bloke known for nothing but being overcast.
I'm sad to report that he died just yesterday.
The paper said, "It was a partly cloudy day".
I hate to say that I have some news that's very sad.
We've lost an actress who was named Diane Ladd.
She starred in the 'Alice' sitcom as Belle and in 'Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore' as Flo.
Diane starred in over twenty episodes of 'Alice' and she helped to make it a better show.
Everybody who saw her perform can tell you that she was talented.
She was eighty-nine and many people are sad because she's dead.
Her friends, family and fans are very unhappy and they're shedding tears.
She won't ever be forgotten even if the world lasts for 100,000 more years.
[Dedicated to Diane Ladd (1935-2025) who died on November 3, 2025]