Poetry of Sadness

Oh, that's sad alright

Breaks me up every time I hear it jjorge...

#348

"I dreaded that first Robin, so,
But He is mastered, now,
I'm some accustomed to Him grown,
He hurts a little, though-

I thought if I could only live
Till that first Shout got by-
Not all Pianos in the Woods
Had power to mangle me-

I dared not meet the Daffodils-
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own-

I wished the Grass would hurry-
So-when 'twas time to see-
He'd be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch-to look at me-

I could not bear the Bees should come,
I wished they'd stay away
In those dim countries where they go,
What word had they, for me?

They're here, though; not a creature failed-
No Blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me-
The Queen of Calvary-

Each one salutes me, as he goes,
And I, my childish Plumes,
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgement
Of their unthinking Drums-"
-Emily Dickinson

jjorge breaks out the ED....I once took a course in Whitman and Dickinson, complete works studied by both poets, as a sort of completely opposite, but similar kind of comparison thingy. I love them both.

Cav,

I love them both too...but ED, she's 'The Divine Miss Em'
( to borrow Bet Midler's nickname) my very favorite poet.

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The Well of Grief


Those who will not slip beneath the still surface
On the well of grief
Turning down through its black water
To the place we cannot breathe
Will never know the source from which we drink
The secret water cold and clear
Nor find in the darkness glimmering
The small round coins
Thrown by those who wished for something else

David Whyte

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Who is DarkSylph?
She/He is like a ghost ...
I can't seem to find anything about her/him anywhere ...

I was so moved.
That's one of the most powerful literary works of art I'd ever read ...

guddie, welcome! Only Jackie knows for sure...hopefully she will see this and let you know.

Oh Jackie! ---not the jackie posting here :p
I love a girl whose name is Jackie, and here is my poem of sadness because today she decided to write me an email saying she wouldnt be my girlfriend now nor in the future.

My day was bad, not to well
but i really did not care--
I had this girl, i could tell
the trade off was real fair--

She was a girl that made me wow
without her i wouldve died--
But that was then, and this is now
I found out she has lied--

I was a fool, I thought she cared
All seemed so well--
But in the end, through all i bared
I find myself in this hell--

What can i do, she is my wheels
I just want to die--
In fact, last week I found these pills
I took them all and wait and lye--

I found myself real sick with grief
My innerflame no more was lit--
My girl found me, became a thief
caressed my heart, nutured it--

She was upset, that i tryed this
but who cares now--
Because as soon as i came out of that abyss
She began to have a cow--

We had a kiss three days ago
It was the most awesome thing--
But the next day, she was my foe
My angels never sang--

She says she hates me, with all her heart
In every way she can--
O dear lord, im falling apart
I hate that i am a man--

As naturally as a man can be
i love this woman and cant help it--
O god, why cant you help me
or i might throw a fit--

I have never felt this way before
Its unlike any other--
This sensation that i feel never makes me sore
and only comes for her--

God! OH GOD! I'm desperate now
You wont let me die--
Take her out of my head or i promise to make a vow
To fight your kingdom with all its glory, and never even sigh--

You say you love me, O Lord of mine
well prove it now and then--
Take her from my mind
Or you force me to sin--

I dont care about anything
she's driven me off the edge--
I hate you lord, i hate everything
I will jump off the ledge--

But let me think, could it be?!?
maybe she is afraid--
I have talked to her mother who tells me to see
who told me this, exactly as she said:

"She loves you with all her heart, she has told me all the time
"the girls are all around him, but in the end he is mine!""--
I dont know what to do with her, how can i be a mime
She lives so close, i love her so, She is all mine!--

My brain may work without her
But my heart has entered the abyss--
So I dont care anymore
As i sit here, Lost in Darkness--

Tell me what you think, its my life in the past week, and although someone close to me may not have died, just imagine having a person you love with all your heart tell you that she/he hates you. I know losing a loved one hurts, but at least they love you and such. This girl, i cant help but love and she just crushes my heart. Death to me! Ill bb later.

Disturbing, histrionic work, Lod, but interesting. I think that you should post this in Original Writing, as the Poetry forum is meant for other poets, not we... we'll give feedback over there.

As for poems of sadness, the following is one of the few Eliot poems that I like, because it pities another, not himself.

La figlia che piange [size=8](the weeping girl[/size]

Stand on the highest pavement of the stair--
Lean on a garden urn--
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair--
Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise--
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

So I would have had him leave,
So I would have had her stand and grieve,
So he would have left
As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised
As the mind deserts the body it has used.
I should find
Some way incomparably light and deft,
Some way we both should understand,
Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand.

She turned away, but with the autumn weather
Compelled my imagination many days,
Many days and many hours:
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.
And I wonder how they should have been together!
I should have lost a gesture and a pose.
Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight and the noon's repose.

When you are old and gray 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.

Hmm, strange things have happened since I last popped into this thread.

By Circumstances Fed
Delmore Schwartz

By circumstances fed
Which divide attention
Among the living and the dead,
Under the blooms of the blossoming sun,
The gaze which is a tower towers
Day and night, hour by hour,
Critical of all and of one,
Dissatisfied with every flower
With all that's been done or undone,
Converting every feature
Into its own and unknown nature;
So, once in the drugstore,
Amid all the poppy, salve and ointment,
I suddenly saw, estranged there,
Beyond all disappointment,
My own face in the mirror.

That's what I was thinking...

(Beautiful poem, Cav; I never did hear of Delmore Schwartz before.)

Here's my translation of Neruda's most famous poem:

I can write the saddest verse, tonight.

I can write, for instance, the night is blurred with stars,
Stars that are blue and shiver in the distance.
The night wind turns circles in the sky, and sings.
I can write the saddest verse, tonight.
I loved her, at times she loves me too.

Through nights like this one, she lived in my arms,
I kissed her endlessly under the sky.
She loved me, and at times I loved her too.
How could I not fall for her immense eyes?

I can write the saddest verse, tonight:
To think I don't have her. To feel I have lost her.
And my verse falls to the soul like dew on a pasture.

What does it matter if my love could not keep her?
The sky is starry. She is not with me.
That's all. In the distance, someone is singing. In the distance.
It does not satisfy my soul to've lost her.
My sight tries to find her, as if that would bring her closer--
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitens the same trees.
It is just us, who are no longer the same.

I love her no more, for sure; but how I loved her.
My voice once tried to find the wind, to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses fell.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, certainly, maybe not certainly;
Love is so short: forgetting takes so long.

Because, through nights like this one, she lived in my arms,
My soul's not satisfied it's lost her,
Though this is the last pain she makes me suffer;
Though these are the last verses I write for her.

Sadly, I cannot read the Neruda in the original, but I must say, the translation echoes the emotion behind it.

It's wonderful to read it in the original, Cav. That one comes from a book that he wrote when he was only 17... Twenty love songs and a song of despair.. and that's his most famous work. In fact, if you go to Barcelona and read out

'Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos."'

then people often join in, until it becomes sort of like a song. The only other person whose early work acheived so much popularity that I can think of is Dylan Thomas.