Though losing a partner can be an unpleasant process, knowing you’re not alone may help you feel better. This compilation of sad poems is a veritable emotional force.

The significance of these poems should not be underestimated due to their short length. Each sad poems is unique on its own way, and you will be able to relate to it immediately based on your own life and experiences. I hope you have a wonderful time on this article

Sad Poems
sad poems

sad poems

“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”-Margaret Atwood

“Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad-
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.”-Dorothy Parker

“My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.”-MoonDylan Thomas

“COME away, come away, death,
And in sad cypres let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.”-William Shakespeare

“Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes.”-sPablo Neruda

“Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,”-Sarojini Naidu

“‘And ask ye why these sad tears stream?”-Alfred Lord Tennyson

“URNS and odours bring away!
Vapours, sighs, darken the day!
Our dole more deadly looks than dying;
Balms and gums and heavy cheers,”-William Shakespeare

“Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Sweetheart, be at peace again — –
Can they dishonour you?”-James Joyce

“Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!”-James Henry Leigh Hunt

“I don’t want to be a sad poem
Just like the late John Denver
Did not want to be a sad song.”-Hebert Logerie

Deep Sad Poems
Deep Sad Poems

Deep Sad Poems

“Yeni şiir ekleme content sad asd asd asd asd asd”-Mustafa Test

“Sad the night, sad the night
Wet with dew, far away from you
Sad the night, sad the night
When karma like a little bird is due to take perch”-Mark Heathcote

“The cowboy poet went out
for a breath of fresh air.
Then a shot rang out,
coming out of nowhere.”-ShinDavid Welch

“Who’s comb-over looks like shite?
Donald’s comb-over looks like shite.
Who scared us shitless election night?
Donald scared us shitless election night.”-Francie Lynch

“and in the end the clown smiled
because that’s all the clown knew to do
twist blown up balloons
into odd animal shapes”-gordon nosworthy

“Sad students living far from family.
Sad students woke up early and go to school,”-Oualid Alamghouz

Depression Sad Poems

Depression Sad Poems

Pablo Neruda- “Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, “The night is shattered

and the blue stars shiver in the distance.”

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

 

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

 

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms

I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

 

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

 

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.

My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

 

The same night whitening the same trees.

We, of that time, are no longer the same.

 

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

 

Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before.

Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

 

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Sad Poems About Death

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms

my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

 

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer

and these the last verses that I write for her.

Emily Dickinson

I cannot live with You —

It would be Life —

And Life is over there —

Behind the Shelf

 

The Sexton keeps the Key to —

Putting up

Our Life — His Porcelain —

Like a Cup —

 

Discarded of the Housewife —

Quaint — or Broke —

A newer Sevres pleases —

Old Ones crack —

 

I could not die — with You —

For One must wait

To shut the Other’s Gaze down —

You — could not —

 

And I — Could I stand by

And see You — freeze —

Without my Right of Frost —

Death’s privilege?

 

Nor could I rise — with You —

Because Your Face

Would put out Jesus’ —

That New Grace

 

Glow plain — and foreign

On my homesick Eye —

Except that You than He

Shone closer by —

 

They’d judge Us — How —

For You — served Heaven — You know,

Or sought to —

I could not —

 

Because You saturated Sight —

And I had no more Eyes

For sordid excellence

As Paradise

 

And were You lost, I would be —

Though My Name

Rang loudest

On the Heavenly fame —

 

And were You — saved —

And I — condemned to be

Where You were not —

That self — were Hell to Me —

 

So We must meet apart —

You there — I — here —

With just the Door ajar

That Oceans are — and Prayer —

And that White Sustenance —

Despair —

 

“It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

Sad Poems About Love

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

\And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

 

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

 

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Short Sad Poems

E. E. Cummings –“You are tired,

(I think)

Of the always puzzle of living and doing;

And so am I.

 

Come with me, then,

And we’ll leave it far and far away —

(Only you and I, understand!)

 

You have played,

(I think)

And broke the toys you were fondest of,

And are a little tired now;

Tired of things that break, and —

Just tired.

So am I.

 

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,

And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart —

Open to me!

For I will show you the places Nobody knows,

And, if you like,

The perfect places of Sleep.

 

Ah, come with me!

I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,

That floats forever and a day;

I’ll sing you the jacinth song

Of the probable stars;

I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,

Until I find the Only Flower,

Which shall keep (I think) your little heart

While the moon comes out of the sea.

Pablo Neruda -“Because of you, in gardens of blossoming

Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face, I no longer

Remember your hands; how did your lips

Feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues

Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that

Have neither voice nor sight.

 

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;

I have forgotten your eyes.

 

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to

My vague memory of you. I live with pain

That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will

Make to me an irreperable harm.

 

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing

Vines on melancholy walls.

 

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to

Glimpse you in every window.

 

Because of you, the heady perfumes of

Summer pain me; because of you, I again

Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:

Shooting stars, falling objects.

Broken Heart Sad Poems

Angela Morgan -“I’d rather have the thought of you

To hold against my heart,

My spirit to be taught of you

With west winds blowing,

Than all the warm caresses

Of another love’s bestowing,

Or all the glories of the world

In which you had no part.

 

I’d rather have the theme of you

To thread my nights and days,

I’d rather have the dream of you

With faint stars glowing,

I’d rather have the want of you,

The rich, elusive taunt of you

Forever and forever and forever unconfessed

Than claim the alien comfort

Of any other’s breast.

 

O lover! O my lover,

That this should come to me!

I’d rather have the hope for you,

Ah, Love, I’d rather grope for you

Within the great abyss

Than claim another’s kiss —

Alone I’d rather go my way

Throughout eternity.”

Edna St. Vincent Millay-“Time does not bring relief; you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from every mountain-side,

And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;

But last year’s bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.

There are a hundred places where I fear

To go,—so with his memory they brim.

And entering with relief some quiet place

Where never fell his foot or shone his face

I say, “There is no memory of him here!”

And so stand stricken, so remembering him.”

William Butler Yeats-“When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

 

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

 

And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Robert Frost-“Lovers, forget your love,

And list to the love of these,

She a window flower,

And he a winter breeze.

Sad Poems About life

When the frosty window veil

Was melted down at noon,

And the cagèd yellow bird

Hung over her in tune,

He marked her through the pane,

He could not help but mark,

And only passed her by,

To come again at dark.

He was a winter wind,

Concerned with ice and snow,

Dead weeds and unmated birds,

And little of love could know.

But he sighed upon the sill,

He gave the sash a shake,

As witness all within

Who lay that night awake.

 

Perchance he half prevailed

To win her for the flight

From the firelit looking-glass

And warm stove-window light.

But the flower leaned aside

And thought of naught to say,

And morning found the breeze

A hundred miles away.”

 

Sara Teasdale-“The wind is tossing the lilacs,

The new leaves laugh in the sun,

And the petals fall on the orchard wall,

But for me the spring is done.

 

Beneath the apple blossoms

I go a wintry way,

For love that smiled in April

Is false to me in May.”

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