Sorrow Poets Poems

Let the heart speak!

knowing its mind and own
place,

knowing its opulent space -- 

knowing our lies and truths,
the shallow or depth
of window-eyes, the soul that records
our...

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I am also a prose poet, navigating the realms of expression unencumbered by the shackles of rhyme. In this vast expanse of literary freedom, I...

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"Life is fragile and temporary. The faces of today quickly 
become the faces of the past. Sorrow, pain, and anger... 
it all fades, except love....

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Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River 

The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable, 
And nowhere to complain -- I've gone half crazy. 
I look up...

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Oh, I never intended to bring forth sorrow,
Never meant to inflict a pang, a borrow.
A single moment, a glimpse of delight,
Yearned to witness you in...

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The fermented blue ink poet can drink
From the day to night as a slice of think
Bared happiness and sorrow
Nature absorbs his all due
Alone life of...

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Poetry is not dead
Poetry will never die
Poets do not lie
Poetry is naturally well-fed
With vibrant poems every second
Of the day to make the soil more fecund
The...

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I have heard all your excuses 
I have listened to all your pleas
It is time to pay the pipers 
With the sweet tears of your...

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This land of entitlement 
entertainment and enterprise 
lost burnt broken...despised 
skeletal structures reaching 
griping 
clutching 
scraping this infernal sky!

Arcane factories sit on horizons 
haunted like...

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My friend, don’t struggle so
Not much longer to go
No more working for the all-mighty buck
No more lusting after the…
Ahhh your dirty mind 
Will be the...

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As Time Fades
by Rebecca Morris
 
when we lose someone precious time begins to stand still
our heart begins to ache and theres an element of our lives...

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I see a forgotten house. 
I hear the cry of a rook. 
I feel the moonbeams in a still Brook.
I know the coming wind rising...

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Life ain't no bed of roses
We're not destined to 
drown in a pit of despair
Aguish is unknown until flesh
grazes a blade of barbed brair

A prickle...

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A Poetic Plight
Poems never read, never shared
for no one cared
The heartaches, sorrow, despair 
no one was there.

Nothing hurts quite as much as that
it knocks one...

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They say he’s a loser,
the shabby look does not bother him,
Sitting by himself and lost in his thoughts,
Seems like normal thoughtful moment for him.

They say...

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