Sad Poems, Poetry - Page 17

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My Mother

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When i was young, i saw that
my mother had these wings.
They glowed and shimmer and never seemed,
to go far from her reach.
Jealous i was, i wanted some,
to show off to my friends,
bu then one day she dint come back.
i was sure it was the end.
daddy said she took her wings and flew up to the sky.
and she would be back down one day t carry me up high.
so everyday i look up there, I’m hoping to see,
my mother soaring big and strong, still thinking of me.

This poem was written/submitted by layla.

The Black Rose

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The fire creeps slowly, Mad as the wind takes it,

Up the stems quickly, Like a raging storm,

It cries out for help, But no one hears,

It turns to grey, It can’t breathe,

Slowly it changes, Dark as the night,

Black as the death it brings,

Ashes fall to the ground softly,

It turns to thick cold blood,

The rose is no more.

It is now The Black Rose.

This poem was written/submitted by Paula Jordan.

I Am Tierd…..

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Tired of being perfect
Tired of pretending everything’s okay
Tired of pretending i don’t miss him
Tired of pretending i’m happy
Tired of living the life i live
Tired of putting a fake smile on
Tired of being someone i’m not
Tired of crying
Tired of everything.

This poem was written/submitted by anonyms .

Bad Friend

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I can’t trust you.
I don’t want to.
You choose sides.
You don’t choose my side.
You’re not a good friend.
You have to be right.
You have to be the cool one.
I don’t like you.
I don’t want to be friends.
But, sometimes,
I look back and think of our memories.
Then, I think of how stupid they were,
and a waste of time.
Thanks, Bye.

This poem was written/submitted by lizz.


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Time passes us by so fast
Each time we blink our eyes, it becomes our past.
Time is running away like a freight train
Leaving behind on its tracks, sorrow and pain.

Time changes a healthy person into a frail human being
Leaving them limited in doing certain things.
Time changes the color of our hair
our skin is no longer smooth or fair

Time has a season for everything
A time to be born, a time to die, a time to weep and a time to sing.
Time robs us of our father or mother
sister or brother.

One day we will answer God’s final roll call
then time will end for us all.
One day the last breath will be drawn from you and I
As we softly whisper our last goodbye.

God created time at the beginning of creation
He will end it at the end of Revelation
For every child, woman and man
God holds time in the palm of his hand

Time changes our seasons each year
We adore each one so dear
Time changes the leaves on the trees
And the waves on the sea

If I could turn back the hand of time
There would not be any hate or crime
As children we were told
Time turns young into old

God will roll back the curtain of time one day
To show us our eternal home in its fine array
Time takes no holiday
It passes quickly by night and day.

This poem was written/submitted by Steven M.Hilling .

How Many Times

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How many times,

I should turn a blind eye to those reminiscence Just to

catch the hour of the day.

How many times,

I should make myself happy with just those moments passed by-

The mere thought of which makes me yearn for more.

How many times,

I need to conquer down my own fears- just to look ahead and

Never turn back.

How many times,

I need to learn to look beyond the darkest hour into the realms

Of bliss and sense of fulfillment.

How many times,

I need to turn around for the daunted tasks,

I had dreamt of and left around.

How many times,

I need to look back for those mistful eyes that I’d left to cry-

Not knowing how to console them ever.

How many times,

I need to look out for a chance, that in spite of being devoid- still has the roots

Deeply ingrained in myself.

How many times,

I need to pen down, the same verse repeated over and again- going down into a

Blind ally from which nobody has escaped yet- I shall never know.

This poem was written/submitted by Vishal Mathur.


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Happy Days
have gone away.
Sad Days
are like days today.
Memories from the past
are coming back so fast.
I wish to not remember,
but looks like they’ll be here forever.

This poem was written/submitted by thatgirl95.

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