Sad Sack Poems | Examples

Smack head

Deep fried 
she cried 

then bloat 
and float

A house 
stained blouse

clueless 
for stress,

To bed,
airhead!

"Forgot"!
you brought 

you phoned
you're stoned,

she’s slow 
cracked crow,

clears throat 
like goat, 

Nancy
can't see 

funky,
junky,

go back
sad sack

drink rum 
you bum, 

and then 
find men.

My Uncle Carbuncle

My Uncle Carbuncle lived all alone,
In a very small house made all of stone.
No one called him or ever came by,
Just a hermit by choice, My Oh My!

My Mother's Brother and a real sad sack,
Had pus-filled bumps on his face and his back.
An affliction he had since he was a kid,
Which affected most everything that he did.

Never ate out, had groceries delivered;
And all who saw him just shaked and shivered.
Multiple doctors had never cured him,
Try as they might had never assured him.

Resigned to the fact that nobody cared,
Just hid in his house that nobody shared.
Until one day completely by chance,
Learned of a doctor living in France.

A miracle drug to cure all his ills,
So twice a day took these miracle pills.
Then his skin cleared up I'm happy to say,
My Uncle Carbuncle got married today.

Sad Sack Sammy

The tale of Sad Sack Sammy,
So the story goes.
A walking, talking, whiner,
Suffering his woes.

He never ever smiled,
Had nothing good to say.
He whimpered like a sissy,
All the livelong day.

His mood would always swing,
At home or when at school.
Sometimes melancholy,
Then complaining like a fool.

A lousy, luckless, loner,
Grew up without a friend.
No one could stand his presence,
'Cause he ranted till the end.

His fate would change at Fifty,
This local resident.
He chose a different path,
And ran for President.

Now everyone that knew him,
Was caught up on the blind side.
When all the votes were counted,
He won it by a landslide.

Knack To Fall Back Then Hit Sack

what we had was knack
to spring forward then fall back
become some sad sack

from straight path may stray
then to God can hear me pray
with please do away

catastrophe mere
daylight savings did disappear
now no longer here

will wear bandana
when we live in Canada
peal a banana

A Gnawing Urge

Meet Otis; drug addict and alcoholic.
            He walks the razor's edge of life daily.
A sad sack of a man bedeviled by stubborn demons.
Swimming against the tide of recovery; crying out for help.

                        Surviving one day at a time;
struggling with addictions threatening to submerge him in a quicksand,
wrestling with harrassing voices in his discombobulated head.

      They keep swirling around him like a noisy, bothersome flies.
            He's pulled into a rabbit hole of temptation
                        everywhere he goes. His gnawing urge...

to drink alcohol growing stronger and stronger at happy hours.
            His addiction to cocaine and heroin is just as potent.
      Each day, he tries his best
                        to stay sober, but can't do it alone.


Submitted for...
Writing Prompts - Fragmented Spaces - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme: sadness in life
Dates posted: 07/29/2021

A Middle Child Club

I'd like to start a middle child club for all those kids who got stuck with the rub.
For those who received the lesser end of the stick, when the flames of love were burning, they were left with a short wick. I'd like to shout out to that middle child who found love thru others, that they should feel proud. For going beyond their birth families allowed them to experience how loves supposed to be. I'd like to acknowledge that middle child who wouldn't settle for disparities, allow their emotions to become beguiled. They didn't wallow in hurt feelings nor become a sad sack, for they learned how to love others beyond their  abilities to love back.

Ballad For a Sot

A sad sack of a man;
he sits on his balcony rail 
five stories high, facing out 
drunk out of his freakin' mind 
and still drinking! 

He's swinging his legs 
all the while, slurring nonsense 
and singing utter gibberish.
People gathered below loudly plead
with him not to leap off.

They're convinced he's trying 
to commit suicide; he's not suicidal,  
just stupid drunk. He's singing 
his favorite song but never getting 
past the first two bars

Luckily, much to the relief 
of concerned spectators,
someone crept up from behind 
and pull him off the ledge!
Whew...thank you Lord!


A-Muse-Sing Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
Date written: 03/18/2020

Love Alone

When yesterday's hearts live alone. 
It's hard to not just turn to stone.
How long can you live without love?
And depend on strength from up above.

You didn't know when you saw her smile.
That your hearts desire was in denial.
As years would change your mirrors reflection.
And you'd wake one day to pure rejection.

There's no one near to soothe the pain.
To dry your tears from all the rain.
The aftermath of calculations.
The futile formula of failed relations.

Something inside will not let go.
Something I think only hearts know.
An endless ache that defies all sense.
A life long lived upon that fence.

Maybe (someday) has come and gone
When hope is lost in the new dawn.
For opportunity has left.
A broken heart that's now bereft.

Is there a way to solve this crime?
When there's no reason to the rhyme.
And love is lost beyond belief.
And leaves you with this endless grief.


Note: Another one from the sad sack hotel. :) (the hospital) :) <3

It Is Impossible Says Your Morose Self

It is impossible, your morose self says. 
Do not try it. 
You will fail.


Your joyful self laughs at morose's silliness. 
We can! 
She says.
We do! 
We will! 
Let's start this second.

But wait, sad sack morose self says. 
Do I not get a say?


You already did, joyful self reminds him.
Usurping him in every way.

Thank God!

Selfspite

Disgusted, 
at what is seen, 
self observation is key,
Yet to keen,  
to understand oneself,
Only seeing what is deemed, 
Hateful sinful gross unruly,
Truly empty, 
all the Things in which I spite,
Is what I am,
I cannot lie, 
I see In Mirrors gazing back,
Reflections of faces I could've slapped, 
Yet all that's there is I,  It's me, 
I hate the person that I see, 
Embodied by wrong choices, 
Choices made because of whispering voices, 
But only I and what I am, 
Can show me,  me that sad sad sack.

Scarecrow

Nature has painted you
a moldy shade of green;
and you're the ugliest
scarecrow I've ever seen.

A grotesque effigy
in the image of man,
you're a collage of rags
on a rusty tin can.

Stuffing has fallen out
of your disheveled clothes,
and you hang deflated;
drooped in a ghoulish pose.

You seem so comical;
like a crazed circus clown
that's skewed lopsidedly;
and about to fall down.

You have a sad-sack face
too depressing for words;
and yet, the crops are safe;
and there's no sign of birds.

What Is Your Purpose

I understand, not much; or plenty
 of understanding that which is understood
 an understatement; really! To understand
 that which is under stated; understatement’s head!
 or ball cap, or ball sack, or gunnies sack, or Sad Sack!
 Go ahead, stretch out your sack; cloth’, and
 shake out the bone and ashes of your thoughts
 with opened minds, and opening hearts; un-conform
 your lives! Let your worldly shite fly… away!
 Release your words, give this Earth her chance
 to heal; your sin! Then again, maybe, kinda;
 sort out of this whole; faith’s part; just to start
 a fire to burn the wickedness from your weary souls!
 Accept the new that has come for you
 all!, and all of your relations
 not religion’s smacking downs or inhumanity’s inept visions
 of what the ending of your time on Earth will be… come!
 One; come all, welcome to my STURM-A-CANE!
 a more current and timely definition of this mission
 that I accepted on be-halve of humankind!
 That the all of US, may bare new fruit and
 not those sharp and pro-baited demonic fangs!
 Some new’ definition; of ONE’S SPECIAL PURPOSE
 OR, SO; IAM PROPOSE’

Judgment Logic

Judgment logic

Ironic comes the curse in store,
When brain damage, dims your mind for sure,
When half-wits are, talking down to you,
Not sharp enough to get your due,
A judgment you endure.

You see the way they laugh at you,
Look down their long nose snotters, blue,
Sad sack the name they give you too,
Poor dummy, can’t ignore?

15 years of suffering,
stupid things, home they bring,
till me brain then gets restored,
intelligence comes forward,
no longer now abhorred,
I served me time, have you?

Millions of judgments in the earth,
Born no arm, no eyes, your worth,
What logic does ensue,
You and the family suffer too,
All at different levels true,
It is no cause for mirth,
Gods judgment in the earth,
You can’t quite see it blue? 
Closed minds will have to do?
Till  perhaps rebirth…

Don Johnson

Don'T Love This Peasant Cretin

I am a Cretin of just a Peasant Sight
Worthless to the Lovers who Kiss under the Moon each Night
The Sights and Sounds of my voice are plainly Dull
So please do not breathe in this dying Martin's last Breath
Suicidal?NO OH NO!! Just a little bit tired of my own mistakes and neuroses
The countless Jibes and unfriendly vides I receive from those who surround Me
It means that no Mistletoe can accept the Kisses or friendly greeting by a kiss on the Chin
Let's just say this:
DO NOT LOVE THIS PEASANT CRETIN'S SAD SACK GRIN!!

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