Sorrow Poems

Popular Sorrow Poems
Saturday's Child
by Countee Cullen

Some are teethed on a silver spoon,
With the stars strung for a rattle;
I cut my teeth as the black racoon--
For implements of battle.
Some are swaddled in silk and down,
And heralded by a star;
They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown
On a night that was black as tar.
For some, godfather and goddame
The opulent fairies be;

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On Receipt Of My Mother's Picture
by William Cowper

Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd
With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Those lips are thine- thy own sweet smiles I see,
The same that oft in childhood solaced me;
Voice only fails, else, how distinct they say,
'Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away! '
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes
(Blest be the art that can immortalize,
The art that baffles time's tyrannic claim
To quench it) here shines on me still the same.

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The Enemy
by Charles Baudelaire

My youth was nothing but a black storm
Crossed now and then by brilliant suns.
The thunder and the rain so ravage the shores
Nothing's left of the fruit my garden held once.

I should employ the rake and the plow,
Having reached the autumn of ideas,
To restore this inundated ground
Where the deep grooves of water form tombs in the lees.


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Mild The Mist Upon The Hill
by Emily Jane Brontë

Mild the mist upon the hill
Telling not of storms tomorrow;
No, the day has wept its fill,
Spent its store of silent sorrow.

O, I'm gone back to the days of youth,
I am a child once more,
And 'neath my father's sheltering roof
And near the old hall door


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Friend In The Desolate Time
by Erik Johan Stagnelius

Friend, in the desolate time, when your soul is enshrouded in darkness
When, in a deep abyss, memory and feeling die out,
Intellect timidly gropes among shadowy forms and illusions
Heart can no longer sigh, eye is unable to weep;
When, from your night-clouded soul the wings of fire have fallen
And you, to nothing, afraid, feel yourself sinking once more,
Say, who rescues you then?—Who is the comforting angel
Brings to your innermost soul order and beauty again,
Building once more your fragmented world, restoring the fallen
Altar, and when it is raised, lighting the sacred flame?-—

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Recent Sorrow Poems
England's Greatest Pride (Poem) By Christen Kuikoua
by Christen Kuikoua

Your years have been long and beautiful
You Ruled with Power and Might
Your majesty and your reign were not in question
Because God made you our greatest pride
Unfortunately, today you disappeared in the middle of the unknown
But forever, We your people will remember you Our Beloved Queen,
Queen Elizabeth, Long Lived Your Reign,

For you have delivered us from evil
And make us a family,

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ROBBER OF EVERY SOUL
by Richie Kharis

Oh, black man of the night
Robber of every soul
destroyer of the strongest heart
Melter of the most beautiful eyes

Why do you make us wail in hate?
Why become our unpredictable fate?
Why take away our voice?
Why make us feel like we don’t have a choice


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Cut flowers
by Chris Quinn

1.

Would that you and I were but plastic waste
Orbiting each other adrift in the sea
Ones for whom decay had acquired no taste
Forever circling like leaves in brine tea

Amidst our peers, seaborne clots of rubbish
Alongside others littering the foam
Tended garden of resilient salt trash

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Samsara
by Chris Quinn

I never thought I would tire of chaos,
Of hurling myself at the sky
Or crashing down below the surf
An orca at play surfing waves of joy and sorrow
Beautiful and terrible to behold

Yet, here I am on the sand
My clumsy legs (not fins)
Pale and thin and hurt by the sand
As I stand shivering and shy of the sea

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Sonnet XX – Feelings
by Khayelihle Bongiswa Gamedze

LONELINESS is a better friend,
It sticks with me every minute, every hour of the day.
SORROW a good friend too.
It visits me by night, it never forsakes its hour.
REJECTION touches my shoulder
Every time I meet a special person.
It is a better friend to comfort,
I feel its touch on my shoulder down my spine.
REGRET is my best friend. It shares my bed at night.
It is there holding our hands, me and SORROW.

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