Sadder Poems - Poems about Sadder

morning was sadder than april he looked at his clock and calendar at the same time then glanced back at april before it ended and ahead to may before it had begun. there were no flowers spraying color or fragrance… no breeze to push the clouds along and no promise of hope beyond the...

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The congregation of passportology Is an overwhelming majority Don’t know much of my geneology Even don’t belong to minority But anyone can attach me of course To the less equal nation in Orwellian sense For that mental trick I must feel some remorse Must believe in the depth of offence But I must be a little madder To take this to...

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I remember those sadder days That will remain forever and always Within my soul so clean Without kindness it’s presence so mean Each time that something is taken In the gloom of sadness makin’ The bad chips away at your soul And in the end survival is your only goal. © Paul Warren Poetry...

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An umbrella moves through the rain and in between each drop emptiness Morning’s injured light far from the sun trips over rooftops into the wind’s mouth passing over my eyes I hear footsteps alone on the sidewalk alone in the rain only to stop and wait for a dream or a green light From the sidelines a burly boom of far-off thunder Time passes even darker Raindrops tangle in my hair raindrops sadder...

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Seldom now do honeybees take wing to visit the flowery bower- or do I hear a meadowlark sing nor a whippoorwill call in the evening hour. Butterflies once like rainbow arrays- cloaking the flowery bower- now seem mostly gone on summer days and nightingales rarely sing in the evening hour. To hear a bobwhite whistle for its mate- or see a red tail hawk...

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Caught up in your words of sincerity Closest of friends, we shared from our hearts Twisting the truth was your reality. A wounded soul, you craved security I wanted to help you, to do my part Caught up in your words of sincerity. You shared past hurts, had a sad history It was important to make a fresh start Twisting the truth was...

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if anyone were to ask was there a time when the black umbrellas folded and the reign ended; the crows again flew, stark against the Summer sun; the scent of roses threw their stain along the tendrils of the wind; and the quiet of a day no longer stretched itself, yawning like a wound - if anyone were to ask when was the moment that gave beat to the measure; what...

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On a Friday when the world was sad We had, all of us, knelt down to pray That nothing further would come out We’d wish then for no sadder day The next day that would come to us Would be one that's two days away A day filled with, faith and prayer As we would skip that Saturday...

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