We’ve gathered Famous Sad Poetry about depression that uses language to convey the suffering and particular problems that all types of depression bring. Continue reading for a compilation of moving poetry about depression.
Managing melancholy can be quite difficult. Many well-known poets recognized that one of the finest ways to express sadness—whether it be due to a breakup, the loss of a loved one, illness, or one of life’s many injustices—is via poetry.
Many well-known poets made grief more understandable by giving it a concrete form with their words.
Famous Sad Poetry have frequently assisted their authors in determining the real cause of their sorrow. Additionally, they can make readers feel less alone and more understood.
1. A Sad Child
You’re sad because you’re sad.
It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.
Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessings. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.
Your sadness, your shadow,
whatever it was that was done to you
the day of the lawn party
when you came inside flushed with the sun,
your mouth sulky with sugar,
in your new dress with the ribbon
and the ice-cream smear,
and said to yourself in the bathroom,
I am not the favorite child.
My darling, when it comes
right down to it
and the light fails and the fog rolls in
and you’re trapped in your overturned body
under a blanket or burning car,
and the red flame is seeping out of you
and igniting the tarmac beside your head
or else the floor, or else the pillow,
none of us is;
or else we all are.
2. Be Not Sad
Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Sweetheart, be at peace again — –
Can they dishonour you?
They are sadder than all tears;
Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.
Proudly answer to their tears:
As they deny, deny.
– James Joyce
sad for all the time my embrace was empty of you
sad for being stubborn to be sad
sad for touching objects baring your presence
sad for not touching you…
sad for reading your name everywhere i turn
sad for all the blue jackets other men should not have worn
sad for all my weak spots left to be weak
sad to open my eyes in the morning
sad for a cruel truth not even dreams can survive
sad without dreaming
sad of nothing to hope for
sad for still seing beautiful things worth for you to know
just what she is not
– Cristina Geanta
4. A Fairly Sad Tale
I think that I shall never know
Why I am thus, and I am so.
Around me, other girls inspire
In men the rush and roar of fire,
The sweet transparency of glass,
The durability of granite;
But me- I don’t know how to plan it.
The lads I’ve met in Cupid’s deadlock
Were- shall we say?- born out of wedlock.
They broke my heart, they stilled my song,
And said they had to run along,
Explaining, so to sop my tears,
First came their parents or careers.
But ever does experience
Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense!
Though she’s a fool who seeks to capture
The twenty-first fine, careless rapture,
I must go on, till ends my rope,
Who from my birth was cursed with hope.
A heart in half is chaste, archaic;
But mine resembles a mosaic-
The thing’s become ridiculous!
Why am I so? Why am I thus?
5. In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad
In my own shire, if I was sad,
Homely comforters I had:
The earth, because my heart was sore,
Sorrowed for the son she bore;
And standing hills, long to remain,
Shared their short-lived comrade’s pain.
And bound for the same bourn as I,
On every road I wandered by,
Trod beside me, close and dear,
The beautiful and death-struck year:
Whether in the woodland brown
I heard the beechnut rustle down,
And saw the purple crocus pale
Flower about the autumn dale;
Or littering far the fields of May
Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay,
And like a skylit water stood
The bluebells in the azured wood.
Yonder, lightening other loads,
The seasons range the country roads,
But here in London streets I ken
No such helpmates, only men;
And these are not in plight to bear,
If they would, another’s care.
They have enough as ’tis: I see
In many an eye that measures me
The mortal sickness of a mind
Too unhappy to be kind.
Undone with misery, all they can
Is to hate their fellow man;
And till they drop they needs must still
Look at you and wish you ill.
6. Acquainted With The Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night
7. To The Sad Moon
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! May it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call ‘virtue’ there— ungratefulness?
8. Bored And Sad
It’s boring and sad, and there’s no one around
In times of my spirit’s travail…
Desires!…What use is our vain and eternal desire?..
While years pass on by – all the best years!
To love…but love whom?.. a short love is vexing,
And permanent love’s just a myth.
Perhaps look within? – The past’s left no trace:
All trivial, joys and distress…
What good are the passions? For sooner or later
Their sweet sickness ends when reason speaks up;
And life, if surveyed with cold-blooded regard,-
Is stupid and empty – a joke…
– Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
9. Sad Is Stupid
I’m sorry you’re sad
‘I’m not sad.
Don’t use that word.
Sad is stupid.’
… cos when you’re sad
you’re always angry
and push me away
‘Of course I’m angry.
I’m pissed off
I’m allowed to be angry.’
so I guess I’d better
leave you alone
– and not show I mind –
till you’re happy again
I’m never happy.
Happy is dumb and stupid! ‘
– Alison Cassidy
10. The Bad Season Makes The Poet Sad
Dull to myself, and almost dead to these,
My many fresh and fragrant mistresses;
Lost to all music now, since every thing
Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing.
Sick is the land to th’ heart; and doth endure
More dangerous faintings by her desperate cure.
But if that golden age would come again,
And Charles here rule, as he before did reign;
If smooth and unperplex’d the seasons were,
As when the sweet Maria lived here;
I should delight to have my curls half drown’d
In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown’d:
And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead,
Knock at a star with my exalted head.
– Robert Herrick
11. Close Those Sad Sad Eyes Girl-
Close those sad sad eyes girl,
and let your feelings wash away,
Bring up nothing more than what you want to say,
realize your way,
I hope it all passes by my love,
and hope you it flies away
Now close your sad sad eyes girl,
– Beautiful Grim
Because we all deal with grief differently, poetry can be used as an outlet to express our feelings during trying times. These Famous Sad poems can help us deal with our emotions when it gets overwhelming.
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