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.


Premium MemberA Point of Time

A point of time alone I mark,
And shine it best I may,
And plant brave flowers upon the way,
Before I must embark.
Categories: courage, death, flower, life,


eternity

as i write this
i have two bottles on the bed next to me
filled with tiny hard capsules
they're staring at me
calling me
i've tried to resist their voices
but with each day they grow louder
i already tried two months ago
i've been trying to silence them ever since
it's hard to silence them
when it's the only comfort you get
the comfort of knowing that option is there
there is a way for the pain to stop
the suffering
i have letters written from months ago
i feel like i should've written more 
but it's not like i can get backlash
if they actually read them, there's no way to contact me
not anymore
i fear it won't work
just like it hasn't the last time
or the time before
and the time before that
and then it's just another thing to keep to myself
sometimes i wish somebody knew
but then they'd treat me different
or maybe they wouldn't
i don't know which one is worse
i'm stalling now
hoping maybe someone would text
i want to be gone but
i'd stay if you wanted me to
but you don't
so i've taken them now
it feels freeing in a way
to know the end is so near
i'm not even crying, just numb
i may do a few things
one last time
hopefully
Categories: absence, angst, death, depression,

John Brown's 55th BIrthday

Today would've been his birthday but he didn't survive.
If John hadn't died, today he would've turned fifty-five.
He started by smoking pot and then he decided to start doing Meth.
That stuff is nasty and it didn't surprise me when it caused his death.
John angered some people because he stole from them.
When he died because of drugs, it was both sad and grim.
I'm very sorry that he died even though he stole from me.
He can never steal or do drugs again because he's gone for eternity.


[Dedicated to John W. Brown (1970-2019) who died on June 3, 2019]
Categories: birthday, death, drug,

Premium MemberWild Orchids

High on a quaint little hill,
In a quiet, quaint little town.
Wild Orchids, once plentiful,
Were nowhere to be found.

It was a mystery to all there,
So sad, such beauty, now gone.
What once blessed their vision,
Amber sunsets, golden dawns.

A pall fell upon the town,
All their sunsets disappeared.
Such beauty lost, bred sorrow,
As another Winter drew near.

Then tragedy struck the land!
War ravaged their small township.
All young men were called away,
All the women knelt in worship.

Time seemed to wane wearily,
Anxious hearts feared the worst.
Then news came of twelve casualties,
And every heart there would burst.

Twelve, flag-draped coffins, carried,
Every young man, bred and born.
A million tears would rain,
Every broken heart would mourn.

The Winter, bleak and barren,
Each day just like the last...cold!
A lifeless, loveless town died,
Unsure of what would unfold.

When, on a bright and infant morn,
The whole town flocked in waves.
By the light of Spring's first day...
Wild Orchids lined the graves!
Categories: beauty, death,

Premium MemberMy Dream Within A Dream

She passed away one day-
     my dearest Mom, too soon, so young.
        I felt sad and alone;
so much unsaid, so much undone. 
I begged God, tell me, please
     if she was there with Him
         in Heaven, with no pain;
in Heaven, smiling down on me.

This was the only wish
     I carried in my broken heart
        dreaming of an answer.
With hopeful thinking and prayer,
I begged, “Dear God, please let me know.”
     And so, as time went by,
        this sole wish became the daydream-
that filled my waking day.

Slowly, some weeks went by
     remembering the happy times
        tucked deep within my heart.
But then, she came to me-
sat close to me upon my bed!
     Arms outstretched, with a smile-
        and magic words, “I am okay!"
Thank you, dear God, for granting me- 
        My dream within a dream!
Categories: death, dream, mother,


To The One I Leave Behind

To you, the one I leave behind, I write,
Not clothed in grief, but wrapped in tender song.
Though parting comes, as surely comes the night,
Our souls have known a bond both deep and strong.

No tear can dim the love that once was ours,
Nor silence steal the echoes of your name.
I go where time dissolves like falling stars,
Yet what we shared, no ending can disclaim.

Think not of loss, but of the life we made,
Of laughter sown, of gentle hours we knew.
Though shadows fall, let memory never fade,
But bloom eternal, evergreen and true.

So take this peace, though flesh and breath resign:
My heart will forever walk with the one I left behind.
Categories: death, goodbye, heaven, inspirational,

Premium MemberThe Perfume Bottle

The crystal perfume bottle still remains,
the one he gifted her so long ago,
upon the dressing table veiling pains
of life’s uncaring, unrelenting blow.

The soft gardenia scent still takes him there
to moments shared when loving seemed complete;
unending nights beneath the stars they’d share,
and every sunrise was a joy to greet.

But then one winter day the angels came
to lead another soul to heaven’s keep;
extinguishing the woman’s earthly flame,
and here, behind, her husband’s left to weep.

So now this crystal perfume bottle’s scent,
a fragrant echo of the life they spent.
Categories: death, lost love, remember,

Premium MemberA surging dirge '

Deep in the bush i hear  'the snapping of sticks' a sound that flat toned sits with a
Feeling.. Just so sick.' When did Vice-pol
Really get so bad? No shes just not right.'
Wow the vibes real sad.' I think of their 
Estate? unravelling fast now.' Tailing off
Like a dingo's howl.! They have returned to
Their vomit..As will most dogs, eager to  eat..At this thought i hear the lyre-bird sob..Its the Sound now of Victoria ..A place now hard of face.' Bereft of exuberance, yet not, yet beat.. And 'with mind on that 

shelf' built in twenty twenty and maintained, by this force.? For dan's selfish self'
I wish to exit this museem..Or  cell filled with
Much re-morse.' And i'm overwhelmed in
Anger, as the dirge deafening loud; does course..Near as
Much as the bush silence can hold your attention.. All round  and God i can't escape this sick feeling in either solitude or crowd'
Categories: anxiety, appreciation, death,

4:09:05

4:09:05
A familiar time which plays on repeat in my mind
Get the opposite of high, but I don’t know why
Cutting pounds but not just my weight
I’m not trying to over-exaggerate
But I think it’s time to say goodbye.

Being alone isn’t the same as feeling it
I just wanna stop, I just wanna quit

They say all it takes is just a call
Down the rabbit hole you fall
Running down an empty hall
I cant seem to recall
If it’s really worth it all

Looking out the window, all
I hear is a loud rainfall
Beats me staring at a wall
Or downing pints of alcohol 
Not afraid for if i fall
The flowers I’ll receive by haul
I’ll feel better overall
4:09:05 is my call
© Gwen E   Create an image from this poem.
Categories: death, depression, mental health,

i yearn for my end

sometimes i fantasize about
driving on the highway
going eighty 
and swerving into oncoming traffic
will that make the hurting stop?
walking somewhere 
alone in the dark
and getting cornered by a murderer
will that make the hurting stop?
being home alone 
door bursts open
an intruder with a gun pointed right at me
aimed right at my head
will that make the hurting stop?
the medicine cabinet torn apart
four pill bottles scattered around me
all once full
now empty
will that make the hurting stop?
a blade in my hand, pressed to my wrist
finally brave enough
to go deeper than just the surface
will that make the hurting stop?
going to bed one night
head laid on my tear-stained pillow
and never waking up again
will that make the hurting stop?
will the hurting ever stop? 
or am i destined to live like this forever?
i'm not even living anymore
i'm just surviving 
barely surviving 
against my own will
Categories: angst, death, depression, emotions,

Long Winter Coming

I see a long winter coming
(yes, I know)
the dull gray spreads ahead of me,
there ain’t no use in running
(if I could)
from yourself you can never flee.

There’s a long winter coming
(how’d I know)
you’d take it to such an extreme,
thought that we were something,
(yes, you did)
when to ‘benefits’ we agreed.

…Oh, the lies we tell,
to fake peace with ourselves,
you were in that dark place…
but nothing did you say…

In the long winter coming
(how will I)
forget the picture I was shown
by a cop so condemning
(let me see)
just how you’d laid yourself low.

In this long winter coming
(I will ask)
why you couldn’t tell me the truth,
always said we’d end it
(if we found)
ourselves in love with someone new.

…Oh, how could it be,
a triviality,
with fire took a turn,
and how it left you burned…

O’er the long winter coming
(I will say)
I’d have left her if I had known,
if I’d learned of your feelings
(I’d take you)
as mine to see if it would grow.

Now the long winter coming
(weighs on me)
all that was lost with your dark choice,
I’m left here, undone, and
(every day)
I wish I could still hear your voice…
Categories: death, loss, lost love,

Too Young To Die

So long ago
It was a far different world
It was safe to be a child
You could attend school 
Go to your church
Or just play outside
You would feel perfectly safe
No one decided when it was time to die
Now you cannot do these things
Not without worrying if you would get home
It is a sad world when there are daily death counts 
Telling how many died, where, and when
Almost like getting sports scores
One thing, it all has to stop
Kids should not have to think of death 
And may they never have to see it

© Poem – XXVIII/VIII/MMXXV
LRET

Dedicated to the lost and wounded
of Annunciation Catholic Church
in Minneapolis on August 27th, 2025
and all of the children murdered so often
Categories: children, death, murder,

Premium MemberThe Silent KISS

“Do not fear death so much but rather the inadequate life.” Bertolt Brecht


They gathered around the table to a game of bingo
 at tables decorated with pink flamingos 
   Blank stares and forced smiles on some faces
 Some lost in their own thoughts from other places
A shout out of” Bingo” brings them back for a moment
  Eagerly awaiting that coin prize as a bestowment
    Soon it’s time to go back to their lonely rooms 
 As they are slowly wheeled back amongst the putrid fumes
Their halls are haunted daily by cries of pain and despair
       As most would not have chosen to be there
  Their happiness lost in memories of a past life
When they lived with family, or had a husband or wife
 As night falls they're settled in their hospital beds
Praying for sleep as they are taking their nighttime meds
   Some stay awake as they hope for that silent kiss
The kiss of death would be welcomed by many with bliss
Categories: death, depression, loneliness, perspective,

Premium MemberThe Silent Kiss

Enticed, seduced, and speedily distilled,
stumbling dumbly, she trips into the arms
of decadence—(such hedonistic charms!)
—and finds her stubborn inhibitions spilled

in a puddle around her thoughts—and, stilled, 
her mind is free (of any and all alarms (!) )
of worry, fear, and doubt—beyond all harms
she thunders for a fresh martini, chilled. 

Teetering at the brink of another drink
she’s helpless against gravity’s stout
strength—down(and further still)into its wink
sinks the hopeless dupe into the abyss;
with more and more foaming from the spout,
she slips into a lethal, silent kiss—
Categories: addiction, death, drink, drug,

but, at least

The air is ordinary,
flat as the ceiling.
I am not dissolved, not broken,
just waiting—
she's slipping into the woods,
a small vanishing act of trees and smoke.
I stay behind,
a houseplant without a window.

London is a name I repeat
like a charm I can’t afford,
a place I am supposed to belong to
but do not step into.
I am still here,
checking my pulse against
the dull clock of the day.

I say I am not okay—
but the walls do not echo back.
When I count it all,
the bones line up straight,
the cupboards hold food,
the phone rings,
and no one has died.

My worries are real enough
to feel like teeth grazing skin,
but when I press harder,
they dissolve into smoke.
Not tragedy. Not the black lake.
Only the unease of living,
the itch of wanting more.

I hold it close anyway—
this almost-pain,
this not-quite-sorrow.
Because at least it is mine.
Because at least it is not worse.

And yet,
so I say: but, at least—
the worst thing in my hands
is time,
and not death.
Categories: appreciation, beautiful, conflict, death,

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