Last Commented Sadness Poems (1,688)

Another day of feeling sad and blue
I can feel the glue starting to undo
This is nothing new
I can't seem to feel fulfilled
My cup is over filled
This mood I just can't seem to kill
went to the doctor
Told him I no longer feel the thrill
He said lets see what we can do
Then he threw me a pill
Said it would stop me from feeling blue
Who is he trying to fool
Me or you
Could this be another magical pill
Or is it me he's trying to kill
I take a pill to make me eat
A pill to make me sleep
A pill to no longer feel pain
A pill to slow down my brain
A pill so I don't go insane
A pill to make me feel numb
Now I'm starting to feel dumb
I no longer know who I am
It's okay
I'll just take another pill
Go on with my day!

She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain
before the time they met - her steps commence.

She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum,
her love turned to escape and cloudy string
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring.

The first light cotton mists with summer rays
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land,
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays,
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand.

Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.

Enjoy the FRAGRANCE OF RAIN

The day was cloudy on a Sunday afternoon, No bone caster could have seen the moment unraveling. The moment was unpredictable and intense, The strength and power of natural disaster was upon my valley. All known escape routes saved no purpose or reason. I was in a dungeon of darkness and camp of Saturn.

The movement forward presented no better option, the movement backwards presented the diabolical push factors. The two side wings movements paved unsteady ground and known Sodom and Gomorrah inevitable outcomes.

I was neither afraid nor surprised, the seed of darkness had drowned my soul. I was a soldier of misfortune. My dreams became cutting throats and chopping the human bodies for hell fire preparation. I understood the power of darkness and evil.

My eyes turned blood red and my brains recited human blood. I relieved the moments of the Nazi active spirit. I tasted the human blood like the vampires and discarded all the known values of, " I shall not kill". I was a terminator and my sole purpose was clear and defined. To kill and destroy.

Swords were drawn and ready, I sliced the human heart without remorse or care. Tears or blood spilling had no effect on my concious. I had conceived an ideology of terror or never. All my movements and actions possessed an element of human pain inflection. It was my destiny now and forever.

I was like Pharaohs in Egpt, I was like a Nazi during holocaust, I was like a disease called apartheid, I was Saul who became Paul, I was consumed with fury and hate, My spirit was the fountain or destruction and evil beginnings. Not even death had power over my will. My will yelled for human blood and bones.

This was the night of the knives, The history that noone wants to remember, The sad story of torment. The day knives became a weapon of choice. It was a dark and long night. Those that survived lives not to tell the story, the story is too inhuman to be recited. It was a Sunday afternoon which turned to a Sunday evening of the knives. This was the day of the knives.

As I sit here feeling hopeless and lost sometimes wishing somebody would blow me up like when a grenade is tossed having dreams of dying hoping that when I die someone other than my family will be crying by my side but I know that I will always be alone getting stoned hoping one day that someone will blast me with their chrome with my brains all over the floor like a pimp does to his ugliest whore wondering what to live life for with these emotions I turned evil to the core watching cartel videos but I still want more hoping i'll see real life gore like a butcher in a meat store hearing demons screaming for more I try to ignore but i'm a lost cause like a b*tch trying to get pregnant with menopause so when I die i'll go straight to hell but this is where I deserve to dwell so all I have left to say is fair well

Like a Captain
who wrongly measures cone of his ship
towards star;
our dreams burning in heavenly light
carries much beauty in mist
and danger of high Expectations,
as heart that sailing in open sea
first sees beauty in sunny days of adventures
before meeting sea hurricanes,
while loneliness of sailing
brings many temptations...
Listening beautiful voice of mermaids
crashes dreaming ship to sea rocks.

Captain heart strand on shallow sand.

Each of us is Captain
to be at the helm of life ship,
Breading freshness,
that rainbow collar leaves after every rain.
Feeling like a passing traveler
Captured by moments of beauty and sadness,
Life and Death so closely holds hands,
In eternity circle.
And sea rocks laughs
over us,
Like we laugh over them...

The one who has to be born,
He already exist in the world,
and he will be tight up on Earth
tired and old.
And we will kill him,
but very slow,
with refine torture,
to stop loving us,
to take away our hopes,
to see that in all our experiences of
Cataclysm's
Life mud is up to neck,
and we can't get out of mud
until last farewell is said
To our yesterday mistakes.

We are often victims of our own entangled
Misfortune.
Who is stealing my keys to unlock the door of my fortune?
And death is strangling us around neck,in our mind,
in fears,crazy -passion,
Entangling in self we fall victims
To see hook for hanging
In it's own desires.

Oh dream,sweet dreams
also caries lunatic in his brilliance;
Dream of undying Love,
Dream of undying Loyalty,
doesn't always find man in Man strong
To carry out what he wish for
In another.

Yesterday mistakes
some times gets knitted in present
when awakening old wound,
Self sacrifices also discovers Selfish reasons,
To remind us of our highest position
in the lowest scores...

Don't give yourself fully,
don't attached yourself to things,
you will find the death of feelings in Pain.

Who is walking with me at night like shadow?
Does man carry self in himself to win his awakening?
Much selfishness is entangled with old sorrow that cries;
To run free...
To be understood,to be comforted with care,
But dark is stronger when given week hand.
And perhaps the only hand we need stronger,
Is our own,in balanced thoughts
Flushed with sun,
Accepting our-self,
And find reason - without reason to laugh,
When getting dirty in mud.

No,no,go not to Lethe,neither twist
Wolf's-bane,tight-rooted,for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
By nightshade,ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle,nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche,nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.


But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand,and let her rave,
And feed deep,deep upon her peerless eyes.


She dwells with Beauty-Beauty that must die;
And joy,whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu;and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay,in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.


dark matter...

There was a time in my life last year when I stumbled upon a site named CS.

During my time here I was very fortunate to meet some wonderful people and I will never forget you. Some who became friends and some who just comment on my blogs or poetry . To those who have been a friend or who just commented I thank you for your friendship, time and opinions. I hope my scribbles brought some joy and nice thoughts in your life and not sorrow. I hope you have a smile when you remember me. If during this time I have offended anyone I sincerely apologize as that was never my intention.

Life is very short but it is also very sweet.

These last two months have been challenging, emotionally and especially physically so I am going to recharge my spirit and body. As the young people say ...Imma gonna do me!

To those who remain here I say take care and good luck to those who are searching. I hope you all find what you want.

Remember spend time with your loved ones and continue to be gentle with each other as we are all on life's journey!
Show the world the beautiful people that you are and SMILE !

To the wonderful poets on PC keep writing and sharing your amazing talent with the world! Know that you all will always have a special place in my heart.

Blessings and peace I wish you all until we meet again!
Sharon (Shay)

I look at my reflection, who is that staring back at me,
That’s not the man I know, the man I'm suppose to be,
Lost is the light that shone from deep within my eyes,
My soul wanders as it searches across the skies,

I’m fighting so hard just to stay alive,
Using all my strength just to survive,
My heart is empty deep inside of me
I’m an empty shell of who I use to be,

Even if I try to be what I use to be,
There’s always a stranger looking back at me.

Look in the mirror and tell me what you see,
That’s not the man I am or who I want to be,
Look in the mirror, I will never be the same,
I’m the only one that can bear all the shame

Screaming in the darkness, screaming at the night,
Where are the answers, of a life that’s lost its light,
Trying to find a direction, find a place to start,
Just looking for some feelings to fill this empty heart,

Even if I try to be who I use to be,
There’s always a stranger looking back at me.


Look at the mirror, who's that supposed to be,
That's a stranger looking back at me

He was tired and they called him an old man
He moved slow and one day I heard someone call him Joe
They only knew him as Joe the old man

Down by the beach,his footsteps weak as he walked through the sand
And when seagulls would fly,no one could hear him cry
And no one knew the story about Joe the old man

Late one evening as I walked by the park
I guess you could say about the time of almost dark
I saw him near a hot dog stand

As I walked his way,in his lonely eyes I could see
what lonely could really be
I said hello and then I shook his hand

As you know time has a way of passing by
And when seagulls would fly,no one could hear him cry
He moved slow and one day I heard some one call him Joe
They only knew him as Joe the old man