Never pick crops before harvest ,
?Because the sun won't let me rest.
?It was rotten yet never became ripe,
?This is what I got after all that hype .
?
?It bore the seeds of despair,
?It's something I can't repair.
?Stuck in a quagmire of panic,
?Should I...no I tried that tactic.
?Though the seeds looked promising,
?Nothing good comes from fantasizing.
?Thought picking it before harvest I'd still find it in a good state,
?I knew that those fruits were nothing but rot in my fate.
?
?For the bare land that bore them always buried my grudges.
?I guess my heart is hard and never budges.
?For every thought I plough, it sows the seeds of rot and I reap the pain .
?
Around the North Carolina’s red clay
Flue-cured tobacco grown it grows
Seemingly towed bow down, do as I say
Flue-cured tobacco grown it grows
Not as I do, I am older than you
I smoke if you try to smoke you choke
Cough, cough, cough this isn’t a joke
Beneath the views, I choose for I do
Puff away, cough you say,
Burn this not such a puff-puff away
Nor give-give awaiting to inhale
Boy, back N my day you have,
a cigarette in a child’s age
You’ll spend a day in jail
Flue-cured tobacco grown it grows well
Seemingly towed bow down, do as I say
Flue-cured tobacco grown it grows bails
Not as I do, I am older than you
Beneath the views, I choose for I do
I smoke if you try to smoke you choke
Cough, cough, cough this isn’t a joke
Puff, puff, puff cough, cough
Them children should N be smokiN
puff-PUFF-puff
Underneath Orion's Belt
Underneath, my love would rise
Underneath the moon, I knelt
Underneath her loving eyes
Underneath the mistletoe
Underneath a pristine prize
Underneath the ebb and flow
Underneath my lover's thighs
Underneath my hollow heart
Underneath the moonless sky
Underneath, I'm torn apart
Underneath, my love would lay
Underneath my living hell
Underneath, I hope to die
Underneath I pray to dwell
Underneath...my love and I
An empty chair and the twilight,
Falling leaves adrift in the air,
Confetti for the coming night,
To doleful drizzle unaware.
The sun setting in wounded streaks,
A decadence in confinement,
Birds on leafless boughs, so weak,
How were those days of mine spent?
Please don't die on me yet,
Why don't you look and be near?
To a drooping silhouette,
I'm the one imprisoned here.
Surviving the penitence,
That's how to lose a stake,
It's me who passed the sentence,
For the king of mistake.
An empty chair and the twilight,
The early carols sound bleak,
For a heart alone in the night,
Like a fallen leaf that cannot speak.
November 14, 2004
DOLOROUS
Lashes curl
Cast a spell
Eyes, black pearls
Snap their Shells
A Judas kiss
Lays on your lips
A metal ring
Pierced in Hell
A twilight orchid
Bleeds in grey
Across your heart
A wounded Ache
Sorrow, Grief, Misery,
Chain
Wrap your wrists
In poison stain
Remorse, Regret
Roses laced
Across your back
Will never fade
Below your waist
Passion, Pain
Burns
A melancholy flame
Dolorous
/'dol?r?s / dollar-us / adjective / feeling or expressing great sorrow or distress.
I remember little of my childhood.
Or perhaps I remember too much, but all of it in fragments.
Marabá Paulista would wake up before God lit the sun.
First came the smell of packed lunches being prepared—mingling scents
that slipped uninvited through the cracks in the houses' weathered wood.
Then, the diesel fumes and the red dust.
Old trucks, like monsters, rumbled through the streets,
swallowing up the adults and vanishing down the dirt road.
During the day, the town belonged to the children and the elderly.
We thought that was freedom.
At dusk, the trucks returned,
spitting out bodies that were barely alive;
my parents would arrive—worn out, stooped, and weary.
As a boy, I didn't yet know
how to put a name to it.
Today I know:
the trucks didn't just carry workers.
They carried away pieces of childhood.
The day you left this world
I held you tightly….begged you not to leave
Begged you to come back
Living life without you became a blur
I remember driving my car sobbing ,banging the passenger seat
Screaming “Where are you , over and over”
You always sat there
Pain and sorrow consumed me
It took me seven years before l could look at a photo of you
Talk about you without crying or having to walk away
As the years past l eventually could laugh about the funny times
Your quirky cheeky nature and your hilarious antics
I finally could celebrate the uniqueness, joy and entirety of you
My beloved, extraordinary, sweet mum
I miss you …
The sad foliage of farewell each year
makes Summer's glory fade away too soon-
and letting go acknowledges the fear
of losing those young verdant leaves of June.
So blessed are Summer scenes that last full term-
complete their fullness by the start of Fall.
But often nature fails to reconfirm
next season's entry includes one and all.
And yes, dear Mom, your Summer went too fast,
without a chance to complete Autumn's scene.
At fifty-five, that Summer was your last;
you left us on September-day fifteen.
I live each season with the thought of you
beneath the leaves of Fall and Winter snow.
But come September, realize it's true;
you rest in peace of your last Summer's glow.
I wondered if all these stars;
would ever fall to the ground;
walking away, wandering around;
painfully hoping for magic to be found;
my curiosity was blissfully piqued;
when I heard that melancholic sound;
pitter patter pitter patter;
my heart was served on a platter;
out for the mindless demons to devour;
the ones who roamed on droplets left to scatter;
I looked up and saw the sign;
the absence of light;
and the gray cloudy skies;
it was my cue to leave I thought;
my brain walked but body stopped;
oh, it falls so cool, so calm;
the bead of water on my palm;
my dark orbs match the floating mystery;
letting the tears out of misery;
I look at my torn sleeve;
wounds so deep, I never had seen;
my soul cries for the time lost;
regret finds it’s solace in anger;
it overflows in me and slips away;
the stars stayed in place and didn't fall down;
but my sorrows did;
down with the rain and into the ground.
-v.s
it does not matter what your discourse
lost in the marble folds of la pieta
mother holding her son
rises above mere human differences
the sorrow of a mother holding tragedy
mauled as a common animal
the fruit of her womb
it began in the encounter, his road to calvary
her vigil as he passed
watching her son forced to abandon life
the outstretched arms, hands bleeding
the wound in his side, feet anchored with nail
Simeon's sword has come to pass
no matter the discourse herein, a mother's sorrow
she is not alone, a plethora of mothers
know too well this aching heart
as the smoke clears and cannons rest in silence
across the bodies now motionless
we hear a desperate plea
mother, mother, no cry dearer
9/15/26
That's on me
By Dustin Branum
9/14/26
And they will never know the lengths I go
No fault of mine, they respectfully declined
And they will never know the pain I know
No fault of mine, they're lost and blind
And they will never know the love I show
No fault of mine, my love is strong and divine
And they will never know the things I know
No fault of mine, my knowledge grows like a vine
And they will never know the hate that grows
No fault of mine, my anger is mine
They must never know the things I know
How far I'll go to keep from show
This pain I know, this terrible glow
That burns my soul, the hatred I have for you all
The love I have to give, I gave it all
The terrible tragedy that they all saw
No fault of mine, I really tried to save you all from me
But you just wouldn't leave me be
My demons, my misery, my hate, I'd hide
Yet you begged of me to conquer and divide
To take my knowledge of power and just let it devour
The hatred you caused me to spill along with my blood you see
It's not about you, it's not about me
It's about Destiny
Why can't you see?
broken souls and broken hearts,
the sleepless ones who look at torn stars,
the twinkling lights that blink afar,
city lights blurred with blinding cars,
are all befriended by the dreamless faces,
that look like lost and stolen art;
estranged glances and estranged words,
the sound of silence they've always heard,
fragrances of the night that are so absurd,
keep alive the sleepless ones who are lured,
by the dark and scary midnight,
when the sky bears no birds;
fluttering curtains and fluttering wind chimes,
the blazing noise that seeps in from the outside,
sleepless ones try their best to hide,
but Oh! It's already twilight,
the sun and moon sit beside,
while sleepless ones look at committed crimes;
a new dawn and a new day,
it has unwillingly arrived,
another night with no dreams,
another dark time where past screams,
when the moon hears no cries,
it means the sleepless ones have died.
There’s an emptiness inside me
That makes me hollow
But takes up space.
It crushes me internally,
Takes away my hunger
And doesn’t let me breathe.
I have to force my lungs
To take in the air
Like I’m mouth-feeding my inner child.
But all I take in
Is pain
that keeps me empty.
But then I find you again.
I feel your presence,
Even though we don’t belong
To each-other anymore
And I feel the colors
of your soul,
Even tho you don’t want me
Around anymore.
And then You look at me
Like I have never held you
And You speak to me
Like I’ve never heard you sing
And that pain fills me
But at least I’m not hollow
Anymore.
woke at midnight,
As the clock struck right at two.
I felt the darkness of my room turn crimson red,
As dreadful thoughts grew heavy in my head.
I felt a shiver run down my spine,
And my blood turn cold as ice.
I felt ghosts lingering in the dark,
And my body go limp far too fast.
I felt myself losing control,
Even in my sleep.
I thought it was a dream,
But that eerie sound was far too deep.
And I found myself losing a game
I thought I had never lost.
As a shadow came far too close,
I felt my breath hitch in my throat.
Was all this fate,
Or a mystery begging to be solved?
Then I felt a ghost welcome itself into my room.
I got up, expecting only darkness,
But found...
A lingering mark.
Everyone walks around
carrying on their shoulders
a heap of sorrow
the sorrow
of so many things
never attained
the sorrow
of so many things
that never came to be
Inside every heart
a tragic tale
playing out
in the drama
unfolding within
someone is wounded
someone defeated
someone is fighting
in silence
within
Are we all
seeking the strange happiness
of becoming
a tragic hero?
Sorrow Categories
Definition | What is Sorrow in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
heartache, melancholy, pain, regret, agony, repentance, suffering, mourning, sadness, heartbreak, remorse, misery, unhappiness, anguish, worry, hardship, blow, misfortune, wretchedness, distress, blues, dolor, rain, rue, dejection