Long Sad death Poems
Long Sad death Poems. Below are the most popular long Sad death by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sad death poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm still a captive of memory.
It's like I am re-reading an ancient diary.
That decade-old loss still haunts me,
in my dream every night I see
that I am losing thee.
But you have already gone
to the unknown.
And I'm still here, can't flee.
Your absence still hurt me.
Your love is still as fresh as a new day,
still as firm as the Sun.
I am nourishing it still,
I will die with it may!
I can't convey, I can't say.
The only thing I can do is,
I can write with my whole heart,
that's my way
to continue this life of dismay.
No new wound can ever hurt me,
as your absence gnaw me.
I don't know when this nightmare will stop chasing me!
When I will stop seeing that,
I am getting back you every night in my dream and losing thee!
I'm still a captive of my old favorite memory.
Which I am re-reading,
into which I'm re-living,
like a drunk, still addicted to thee.
Don't know when I can move on
when I will be succeeded to flee!
Still a captive of your memory.
She told me how much she despised her ex-husband.
If he was not already dead, I would kill him, she said.
The ladies who were quilting at church laughed every time.
I probably laughed the hardest, so we became good friends.
Over the past twenty-six years she has told me of her abusive parents.
Her psychotic mother, her free-loading sister. Her psychopathic brother.
I wondered how she could be so normal from this family.
I thought I knew everything about my friend….
Until the day the FBI came and arrested her.
DNA tests proved she was the one who shot and killed her husband.
We at church had been told he died a slow sad death of cancer.
Weird that she never told any of us this…..
She used to think she should have but she did not
Living with regrets from one side of the house to another
They followed her home and built a wall around her world
A friend who never held back, who lived her truth, who said what she meant
Got murdered
This got her to thinking
that life is short
So she began to say what she felt she should say
She began living the life she wanted to live
She turned her life around
Doing and saying what felt right in her heart
Not overthinking how others might take it
As a consequence, she began to like herself more
and others liked her better also.
Inner peace was had
thanks to a sad death of a friend
I will remember you,
but not like this.
You lying alone, with only
the ventilator for company;
searching for air where there is none;
looking for a face, a hand to hold,
a memory--something to cling to
through this darkness, even a
goodbye. No!
I will remember you
in the early morning
when I feed the birds you loved.
I will remember you
when I walk alone in the woods
we once walked together.
I will remember you
in the evening as I search
for a glimpse of you among the stars.
I will think of you as young
and strong--fearless! When
each sunrise was a promise of many.
I will think of your laughter, your tears,
your playfulness, your strong will, our
moments of quietness together. All
the ways you touched my heart,
I will remember you.
In the marble orchards,where the stone leaves fade,
I walk a path that grief has made.
The air is cool with a borrowed peace,
A quiet echo of a soul's release.
Each marker stands a cold and rigid plea,
For a name that time has set so free.
I trace the letters of a life unseen.
And seek a whisper where no words have been.
I ask the granite for a simple truth,
About the wasted years of reckless youth,
The silent battles and the broken vows,
The unpicked apples on the dying boughs.
I lean my ear against the ancient ground,
For any rumor of a buried sound,
For any silence deeper than the sod,
Rebuffs my search for answers from my God.
They offer nothing,these eternal guests,
From slumbering bones and hollowed-out chests.
The answers died when breath was drawn and done,
And fled forever from the beating sun.
I came to learn what wisdom they had kept,
But only found the place where they have slept.
The leaving must find meaning in their strife,
For no reply will come from silent life.
So I turn my back upon the silent land,
With empty heart and with an empty hand.
The questions live,but will not find their home,
And I am left to write my own sad poem
The dead hold secrets,but they do not share,
And life's long journey is the only prayer
Life is great for a few short months
leaves shade us from the sultry heat
but at the end of Summer's season
they get crushed beneath our feet.
But time takes its inescapable toll
leaves wither once they take the fall
overlooked and simply swept away
because they must answer Autumn's call
Cruel North winds age them quickly
Golden leaves become fringed in rust
wrinkled and brittle, tumbling to the ground
they lay crushed beneath the earth as dust
They're ever granted a burial plot
just raked into pyres, and burned in heaps
problems for the weekend gardener
and for their sad death, no one weeps
Good night, old friend.
Hush and sleep.
I’m here as long as we can pretend.
Even after you leave.
If pain is a gateway to the soul,
then my dreams deem your words the key to such a portal
I just can’t tear my eyes away
your blunt nails puncturing skin, their purpose ugly lines
If I could I would rasp a scripted farewell
envelop the spirits you trapped here frame to frame
but the jeers swimming in your Cheshire smile bleed a crimson too real
maybe I should rejoice, this house now a home – not a belladonna field.
But it never will be unlike a cage
twenty years, two decades, one fear, no apology
a few tears won’t erase the scars on her arms
you the forefront, I the ignorant, and she the child in Omelas
I’m terrified I’m grieving a vile sadist
the people surrounding me either love or hate, curse or forgive,
they don’t understand what it’s like
to miss someone so soul-crushingly cruel.
“I don’t believe in love
I don’t believe every single thing about love
and it’s more pleasurable for me to sit on a bench and watch people pass by each other-
sometimes accidentally brushing their hands and elbows
but when my eyes landed on you, I knew right there and then, I want you
I want to be locked in between your arms and feel your warmth
I want to wake up every morning seeing your face and feeling your breath against my skin
as I brush my fingertips against your hair while I stare at your eyes
I simply want to experience everything with you because with you, everything is perfect
everything is surreal and unimaginable than it ever was
I want to breathe a breath of relief and be constantly in love with you
because you are my home-
a home I never expected to be a person,
a home I never expected to be you”
I whispered as I watch you rest
dressed in white, handsome as ever
closed eyes, smiling but not breathing
sleeping but not waking up
laying down peacefully
in a bed that’s too small for two people
a bed where only you can lay six feet under
a bed where your body will rest
a bed where you call your coffin
Tonight
a demon kissed my heart
a shallow ease
trapped in a winter breeze
paved from blood and sweat
a soul on the table for a bet
remember
I must have taken this death note
and wrote sweet surrender
with rose petal debris
Tonight
my tongue licked the pavement
an awful taste
but assuredly to be the final time
with a lament written in rhyme
a heartless dance for the martyr
remember
I must have swallowed the sun
because the cold seeps within
dripping with angel blood
Tonight
a song etched across my heart
a sharp blade of reality
a depressing clarity
with no remorse nor sincerity
remember
I must have taken this death note
and wrote sweet surrender
with a faithless pen
I feel like everyone expects me to smile,
to be the one making their day bright;
but here I am with these rocks in a pile,
skipping stones just trying to find some light.
I can never seem to get more hops across
than the number of those no longer here;
as I stand here and struggle with yet another loss,
I ponder what, from all of them, I'd want to hear.
That it's okay the branch he loved I so eagerly spite,
that she's proud of all I continue to do;
that I did all I could for him that fateful night,
that this newest wishes only that I carry on through.
That though their days have been spent,
some remnant of identity lives ever on;
his altruism, her tough will unbent,
his clever wit, his grin ever ready to dawn.
Here on this shore I hear no such assurance,
just four stony ripples' echo in the twilight;
I drop my last rock and question my endurance,
how much I can take of memory's sight.
So if you find along the way much the same lot,
your friends erstwhile but your aches alive;
you can find me handing out stones at this spot,
and together through this moment we can strive.