Sad Death Poems - Poems about Sad Death

The last song of the Kaua'i 'o'o bird

So if this be the last song I sing,
Let it be more beautiful and haunting
Than anything I have performed on this earth before.

Let the open night echo my words
In pity
For no one will ever respond anymore.

Let my unanswered call

Coil the chain around my neck and restrain me to this branch
As I break the silence of

Monster in my head

Im in that dark place in my feeling's in head again.
 I see red and black.
I don't won't to be here. 
I'm in a room by myself. 
 I just want to grow wings in fly. 
How i get here you ask. 
Helping and thinking about everybody but myself.
 When will I learn.
And  the

Sad Empty Eyes

Somehow,
Those empty eyes
 staring back through the glass
They just seem to laugh
At all that I am.
And they seem to see
The person I wish I could be

But somewhere,
Beyond the reflection 
Is a soul
Who doesn't know 
Who, even, they could be
If their head was filled with dreams
Instead of physical fantasies 
That tells them they're ugly
Never will be

She Blue

the blue dress she wore

the blue words she swore

the blue tears she tore

the blue baby she bore

Purple Cat

The purple cat hides 
Under the dark rainbow bridge 
Looking for color

Belladonna Field

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

She Is Dead

Today the silence rings in my head
She is dead
Never to return
Her mother won’t get to say goodbye, only to cry when her name is said.
She is dead.
Never to walk the land
Her father will never be allowed to hold her hand, only to wish he had told her he loved her more.
She is dead.
Gone now and

Please

You know, I've been keeping count.

Of the years,
of the friends.
Those gained and lost,
the memories and the cost.

I'm not sure which
has topped the weight class -
the good, the laughs and the light,
or the pain, the loss and that sight.

Of the headstones,
the folded flags;
the mothers' cries
and brothers' eyes.

I know the count of them all.

Today a year goes

Tale of Woe

Thy young maiden,
Peck her Lily flower a shake. 
A brittle sound of break,
Sobbing till tears make.
 
Bare feet on wet grass. 
Alas, her life, soon ‘twill pass. 

The Funeral Home

My footsteps changed and there upon stood this wide ostensibly simple wooden door which laid open such that I could see the comparatively dim candle lights on the alter. 
With my every heart beating sound, I approached cautiously with a rather uncertain foot step towards that alter. 
I could not but hold back the feeling

Coffin

“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

On the Hill

On the hill, a mother 
is desperate to nurse babies
who have gone still and silent, 
with milk they'll never take

She knows they are not sleeping 
but cannot bear to leave them, 
so licks their tiny faces, 
that they might come awake

She thinks if she can warm them, 
then Winter will not want them
and Spring will

Captive of Memory

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

A Broken Dream

There’s a lake called the lake of Illusions,
And there’s a house right by its side.
It’s a house where I’m hiding,running away from memories.
It’s where I’m destined to be forever.

The rules don’t apply here, no.
The storm is the king of these lands.
And  if you look closely,
Then, through the impenetrable fog and violent thunderstorm,
you will see

To One Who Died Alone

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

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