Most Liked Sadness Poems (1,688)

What Does it Take?


I grew up in the violence
of apartheid . Do I want
to go back? Even now,
my significant objects
here in my treehouse
flat with a balcony,
relieved to feel each
angry mile of history
disintegrate, one memory
raps its knuckles
on my heart’s door.
Late one night
the door bell rang
at my cousin’s house.
The woman who worked
for my grandmother
stood bleeding before us,
deep cuts on her cheeks,
slashed with a broken bottle.
My uncle sent her away,
to the servant’s entrance.
Shut the door on her
split and bloody face.
That day I began
to pack my invisible bags,
pictured the water and sky
I would cross to leave this,
knowing wounds heal
but asking what does it take
for the soul to recover?

Who, In thy dreaded absence that I fear
will care enough? to dry my sorrowed tear,
Who! will free me from the dark hour'd night
with love, to speed my darkness into flight,
annulling loathsome melancholy,replace bright,
the absent colours,to my once inner sight,
Who! will torch the candle of life's day,
when fate deemed you, from me so fast away,
Who! when velvet clouds no longer kiss the moon,
as darkness upon this earthly light, consume
the short filled days of nature's special bloom,
that shone in May but saw not June,
Who! when impatient time, no longer waits
for the flower that came; but stayed not late,
Who! shall free the heart of anguished sighs,
of sullen silence and brave smiles that cry,
Who! will reveal the tenderness of knowing why,
when searching lofty vapours, with yearning eye
of absent hope, that pains the hours of sleep,
reflecting tears of love, those sad eyes to keep,
Now alas! from ageless time, love's bounty will
fire the days to which we clung
and sing the song that once we sung.

For those of you that are not here
At this very special time of year
You’re in our thoughts we hope you know
And in our hearts with this we show
All our love we send to you
And know you feel the same way too
Forever in our memories will be
Those that have gone from our family

Little brown face with 'look' in his eyes,
Sticky complection all covered in flies
Raggy clothese and dusty feet
Baggy shorts with a hole in the seat

Little boy hasn't a chance
Tells his story in one glance.
Why should I have all I need?
When wasted food this one could feed

Its not enough to be aware
Or else in comfort stand and stare
Could we spare a little wealth?
To give him clothes, food and health?

Helping now we'll win the war
In the eyes of the child that I saw.....

Peter Dronfield Zambia 29th June 1980.

No more to live in earthly mould,
Though siblings not bereft ?
Despair in me did clasp it's hold,
My spirit long since left.

No funeral pyre, no gaping clay,
Not one sad mourning tear,
No blood red rose, nor white bouquet,
Was flung upon my bier.

For me, no sudden tragic end,
But slowly perished inside,
A veil of sorrow to descend,
When close-blood kinfolk died.

Lymphoma slowly sapped my life,
Such ills did I abhor,
Then as lost love increased the strife,
I decayed a little more.

No one aware that I've passed on,
Appearing to all just fine,
I smile and laugh, 'til yarns are spun,
And die more every time.

Finally reduced to hollow shell,
This world, my mind it warps,
I wander in this lifeless hell,
An aimless moping corpse.

I once had the potential to be superman
When I was young when I was young
Fast came the kryptonite of time and then
I got stung I got stung

My hair turned gray and fell away
Tired and forgetful became everyday
Once I was I but now I'm me
Tomorrow is here and no longer waits you see

Why run so fast to cross a hill
There is no place where all stands still
You make no search but yet you find
And suddenly you meet the kryptonite of time

Lonely doesn't sleep not even late in the night
Lonely doesn't talk but keeps you awake with the sound of quiet
Lonely is not my friend not my enemy
It's just a reminder I need some company

If lonely were a letter it would be addressed to me
And written between the lines so plain to see
This is just a reminder sent to you for free
Listen to the quiet and turn out the light it's a quarter after 3

I will put the letter under my pillow
Sure as a remedy and dream of weeping willows
Soon they will be blowing in the wind like a symphony
Lonely is not my friend said the weeping willow tree

She can't sleep at night
She lays awake in bed
Trying to slow things down in her head
She tosses and turns
kicking her bed
She looks out of the window
Sees shadows dancing around
As her mind wanders
She remembers the days she could sleep
She had a man to keep
Now all she feels is defeat
She tells herself not to weep
In time God will send her a man to keep
Now if she would only go to sleep

I don't know why but I feel so disconnected today.
My thoughts and feelings of happiness are blunted and led astray.
I know I can feel happy, live, laugh and dance.
But these feelings disappear when control is in my glance.
It's like I can't trust myself in recreating the joy I once knew.
I have sentenced myself to life imprisonment for the crimes of "being you."
No judge, no jury, no plaintiff, no defence.
Just an automatic sentencing without hearing or sense.
This what it's like to live inside someone who is depressed as me.
Locked up inside yet I am still holding the key...

No one can see inside of me, no matter how hard I try.
My intention is seemingly never clear toward the naked eye.
For only I know for sure, what I truly feel inside.
Yet words and emotions cannot express the reason why I hide.

"I understand. I can relate. I can get the blues too.
But I cannot seem to fathom why you act the way you do."

I can only speak in metaphors as these feelings are otherworldly.
It's like my soul is locked up for the duration of my longevity.
The moments that may seem awkward are when my soul wriggles free.
Attempting to make up for time lost to express many facets of me.

"I can see the problem yet the solution is clear.
Just let your soul free! There's nothing to fear."

Fear is not even half of it, there's more to it than this.
If I were to just let go, there would be a sense of remiss.
No matter what I do to help myself, it seems it's never enough.
To try and make sense of darkness can be considered quite tough.

"You can't be serious! I don't understand, it's boggling to my mind.
It's as if you don't want the help and would rather stay confined."

No one can see inside of me, no matter how hard I try.
My intention is seemingly never clear toward the naked eye.
For only I know for sure, what I truly feel inside.
Yet words and emotions cannot express the reason why I hide.