Grief Dramatic Monologue Poems

We came not for conquest,
but for containment—
though conquest is what happens
when containment itches beneath the skin
like sulfur spores in a sealed lung.

They had the secret.
Not...

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The Journey

Standing at this crossroads, I finally see
How life shaped us through misunderstanding.
What I once called betrayal was merely growth—
Two saplings reaching toward different light.

I...

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When the dusk bleeds 
                    ...

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Written: April 09, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Daniel Henry Rodgers

Quote: "Do not look back, no one knows how the world ever began. Do not...

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I celebrated my father's birthday this last April 4th, 2025
He would have been 75,
Yet 7 years ago, a white butterfly laid him to rest, with...

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*HE HEALS THE BROKEN HEARTED-

For the first time, we’ve been heartbroken;
In those tumult times we’ve miss spoken;
God heals the brokenhearted He has the power; 
God...

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One day, a star said to the crescent in the sky,
"How do the people of our homeland admire you so beautifully?"
The crescent replied, "I have...

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I leave the sun-dappled autumn sidewalk, entering the office

The empty chair there lingers.
dark tendrils coiling in my mind—
my blind rage pleading for quiet healing.

flashbacks clash...

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In my chambers where phantasmagoria undulate
    not as vigilant watchers but as mnemonic parasites
    I ruminate—
   ...

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I have followed hard times past
It was a lonely walk but I last
When you see on my shoulder was the hand of God.
Through it all...

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How sweet the sorrow
How deep the void 
We go on with one less tale of footprints in the sand beside us. 
With wishful eye is...

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Remembering our friendship 
how we'd talk for hours about
any topic family love kids life
how it hurt not to hear from 
one another sending cards 
pictures...

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It hurt that night. Not the night it should have hurt,
When those pills were scattered across your bathroom
floor

No, it didn’t hurt then

I just stared out...

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To the other woman,
I am not mad at you.
What you see in him now,
is what he shows me yesteryear,
only one of us will weep upon...

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The drums...
The cheering...
The singing...
The dancing...

I tire of it all.
I may be Pagliaccio, 
But without the paint and powder...
I am a man.

I am not even Canio...
That...

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