Sorrow Poems | Poemist

Popular Sorrow Poems

Alone

by Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn

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The Weaver

by Anonymous Works

My life is but a weaving, between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.
Ofttimes he weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent, and the shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas, and explain the reasons why
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful weaver's hand
As threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

He knows, He loves, He cares,

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Lepanto

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

White founts falling in the Courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard;
It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips;
For the inmost sea of all the earth is shaken with his ships.
They have dared the white republics up the capes of Italy,
They have dashed the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea,
And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,
And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross.

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Hyperion

by John Keats

BOOK I
DEEP in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung above his head
Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day
Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass,

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Absence

by Mary Darby Robinson

WHEN from the craggy mountain's pathless steep,
Whose flinty brow hangs o'er the raging sea,
My wand'ring eye beholds the foamy deep,
I mark the restless surgeand think of THEE.
The curling waves, the passing breezes move,
Changing and treach'rous as the breath of LOVE;
The "sad similitude" awakes my smart,
And thy dear image twines about my heart.

When at the sober hour of sinking day,

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Recent Sorrow Poems

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

......

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

......

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.

......

Afghanistan's sorrow and resilience

by Robert Ippaso

A land fought over from antiquity,
It's fertile plains and mountains steep,
Coveted and plundered with iniquity,
It's people slaughtered as helpless sheep.

From Alexander, through Genghis Khan,
Invading hordes without respite
Killing all to the last man,
Sowing misery and plight.

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Lachrymose

by Khayelihle Bongiswa Gamedze

My heart like a desert is dry,
From my eyes flow the stream of tears...
For the pain of the world I cry,
The world is in turmoil, the world is in fear .

My life is done, my thread is run,
Lachrymose will be, under the shadow of the sun .
I longed but for a future ahead;
But with a life so short, my hopes are dead.

......