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Sad Poems Collections for People Who Feel Too Much

Sad Poems Collections for People Who Feel Too Much. For the best of sad love poems on the internet, read my special collection of love hurts, sorry, and breakup love poems. Melancholy love poetry can definitely describe the pain and pleasure of love, as this lost love poem does.

Sad Poems Collections for People Who Feel Too Much

Sad Poems Collections

Why do sad poems as well as stories of emotional pain bring each of us a strange kind of pleasure?

I am pretty sure psychologists have an answer to that question. And I am just as sure i is a different answer than a poet would give. Maybe, in the end, the answer really isn’t so complicated. A burden born by one can often grow too heavy to bear. These collections you will love so much.

1. To a Sad Daughter

All night long the hockey pictures
gaze down at you
sleeping in your tracksuit.
Belligerent goalies are your ideal.
Threats of being traded
cuts and wounds
–all this pleases you.
O my god! you say at breakfast
reading the sports page over the Alpen
as another player breaks his ankle
or assaults the coach.

When I thought of daughters
I wasn’t expecting this
but I like this more.
I like all your faults
even your purple moods
when you retreat from everyone
to sit in bed under a quilt.
And when I say ‘like’
I mean of course ‘love’
but that embarrasses you.
You who feel superior to black and white movies
(coaxed for hours to see Casablanca)
though you were moved
by Creature from the Black Lagoon.

One day I’ll come swimming
beside your ship or someone will
and if you hear the siren
listen to it. For if you close your ears
only nothing happens. You will never change.

I don’t care if you risk
your life to angry goalies
creatures with webbed feet.
You can enter their caves and castles
their glass laboratories. Just
don’t be fooled by anyone but yourself.

This is the first lecture I’ve given you.
You’re ‘sweet sixteen’ you said.
I’d rather be your closest friend
than your father. I’m not good at advice
you know that, but ride
the ceremonies
until they grow dark.

Sometimes you are so busy
discovering your friends
I ache with loss
–but that is greed.
And sometimes I’ve gone
into my purple world
and lost you.

One afternoon I stepped
into your room. You were sitting
at the desk where I now write this.
Forsythia outside the window
and sun spilled over you
like a thick yellow miracle
as if another planet
was coaxing you out of the house
–all those possible worlds!–
and you, meanwhile, busy with mathematics.

I cannot look at forsythia now
without loss, or joy for you.
You step delicately
into the wild world
and your real prize will be
the frantic search.
Want everything. If you break
break going out not in.
How you live your life I don’t care
but I’ll sell my arms for you,
hold your secrets forever.

If I speak of death
which you fear now, greatly,
it is without answers.
except that each
one we know is
in our blood.
Don’t recall graves.
Memory is permanent.
Remember the afternoon’s
yellow suburban annunciation.
Your goalie
in his frightening mask
dreams perhaps
of gentleness.

By, Michael Ondaatje

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2. A Sad Child (Sad Poems Collections)

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.

Forget what?
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.

By, Margaret Atwood

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3. Please, Dad (Sad Poems Collections)

As soft winds sweep away the days
I look back on life through a haze.
Remember playgrounds, parks and friends,
In childlike gaze that never ends.
The laughter in a game of catch,
Shall memory ever attach…
To innocence in youthful eyes,
Catching the ball to Dad’s surprise.

I recall my first bike, first wreck,
Who picked me up, said, “What the heck?”
Convinced me to give one more try,
While, knees skinned, I forgot to cry.
Just the joy knowing he was there,
Making him proud my only care.
There was nothing I couldn’t do,
My heart held fast that to be true.

Though teenage years were kind of rough,
I sure wasn’t too big or tough.
You taught me to defend what’s right
And never back down from a fight.
So I learned the hard way to stand,
Still, with each lump, I found your hand.
Drawing from you an inner strength,
And stubborn pride of equal length.

But there the line of fate was drawn,
As though I blinked and you were gone.
I found myself facing the sun,
Not man, not boy, fatherless, one.
Eyes blinded by a void inside,
I could not live that you had died.
Alas finding it to be true,
I could do nothing without you.

Please, Dad, today just hear my call,
I’m sorry that I dropped the ball.
My life is wrecked, my knees are skinned,
My emotions undisciplined.
I can’t get up although I try,
Please don’t be upset if I cry.
Though I can’t fight what I can’t see,
Please, Dad, say you’re still proud of me.

By, Michael Anderson

4. Dance of Terror (Sad Poems Collections)

Window panes come crashing down
Amidst the tears and pain
Vanishing hopes are gone and flew away
Up above through twilight
Shadows cast across the floor
Reflections of the past
Trembling thoughts of one
Dwelling deep within the soul
A mystical sense of reality
Captured by the craze
All in bewilderment
Of the shock in the wave
Creatures of the dimness
Chattering amongst the green
Everything slows in stillness
What is this we see?

By, Justbleu

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5. When is it Time? (Sad Poems Collections)

When is it time to say goodbye,
To all the love I’ve known,
When is it time to end your pain,
And leave me all alone?

I’ve watched you on your good days when
I feel your strength renewed;
But shortly after little ups,
The down days then ensue.

We ride this roller-coaster of
Emotions as we try,
To make it through another day,
And yet, I can’t deny …

That as I look into your face
On days that have been bad,
I see a look that beckons me
It’s tired, and hurt, and sad.

The little spark I used to see
Behind those loving eyes,
Is growing ever clouded
By life’s cruel inhumane side.

I try to see beyond the pain
You feel with every step;
And softly whisper to myself
This may get better yet.

If I can bear to watch you
Just another day or two;
I justify my reasons to
Ensure I cling to you.

For letting go is harder for
The person left behind;
It means that if I let you go,
I cannot turn back time.

Back to the days I long for now,
When you were full of life;
And every day held promise,
And our futures, clear and bright.

But now the lights are darkening …
We take it daily now;
I cannot see our futures clear
Or think beyond this cloud.

I think the hardest part in this
Is never knowing why,
I have to be courageous
And I have to say goodbye.

For if I let myself admit
It’s time to let you go;
I’d have to face reality
Without you … but I know …

That soon I have to face the
Final outcome that I dread,
And holding on will only serve
To hurt you in the end.

You’ve given such unselfish love
For all our time in life,
But if I hold too tightly,
You’ll not move t’ward the light …

On to a better life, where you
Can once again be free,
Of all the pain and discomfort
That holds you here to me.

So if I find the courage just to say
This last farewell,
I hope you will forgive me for
The time it took me; still …

I’ll hold with me, the memories
That in my heart remain,
Pray one day, down the road a’ways
… They’ll lesson my own pain.

By, Kit McCallum

6. If these Walls Could Talk (Sad Poems Collections)

If these walls could talk,
you’d know my body is dead,
my mind has been taken over,
that’s why I am so scared,
I can’t control it,
anger is making me blind,
I’ve been left here on my own
chained to a hate of some kind.
If these walls could talk.

If these walls could talk,
you’d know about my fears,
about all those nights I screamed for help,
about all my fallen tears.
You’d know about the demons
haunting me at night,
you’d be able to help me
keep my fire alight,
if these walls could talk.

If these walls could talk
they would say that it’s all right,
God sends His angels
to look over me at night.
They’d encourage me,
say though I am alone
it doesn’t mean I’m on my own.
He watches me, from above
and showers me with all His love,
if only these walls could talk.

By, Christelle Duvenage

7. Sean (Sad Poems Collections)

I wanted to
kiss the
bundles of stars
in your face

I wanted to
smooth the
rough edges of your
skin
weaved with mine
so full of
hidden pain
and
boyish innocence

I wanted to
melt into your
warm white walls

I didn’t want to leave you

the heavens watched us
while we slept
in those cold
January nights

angels
full of
envy
above us

I suppose they
wanted you
to become
a fleeting blotch
of red
in my heart

I suppose
the whispers of
fate
decided to
change us

I didn’t want to leave you

I always tasted the
sweetness
of your skin
as if for the last time

with gentle fingers
and sleepy eyes
we fell in love

I always tangled the
stars in your hair
I always kissed
the scars on your hands

as if I knew
we were going to
die

the angels have
you
now

the man I loved

and I have
sorrow
and
one million pictures of you

lodged in my chest

By, Jenawin

I hope you enjoyed reading those collections I made for you. Also, share this post with your friends on social media. Share this post today to promote poetry and the reading culture in communities.

Daily Time Poems.

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