sad poetry
The cathartic nature of poetry makes it one of the best outlets to channel feelings of sadness, emotional turmoil, grief and despair.
Sediment
I can feel the rot in my body starting. I’ve been sedentary too long today, and I know it will only spread to my lungs. The branches I see from my window strike a stick-thin silhouette against the white sky. I belong with them—spindly and rooted. It would take far too much effort now to uproot myself and shake off this creeping mold and make something of myself today. I am ballast. I am corroded. I am a heavy stasis. A tree rarely falls unless some force unearths it, and no such force is coming for me. I settle deeper into the decaying sediment of myself.
By Cecile Randall2 months ago in Poets
Midwinter
Winter sinks its teeth into my skin, burrows into my bones and makes a home for itself. There are few moments where I feel more alone than when I am walking, frigid and shivering, my breath coalescing in the air before me, reminiscent of smoke from an old man’s pipe; but I am not yet old, and I do not smoke, and despite my life still winding before me I feel aged and heartless and alone. Today I empathize with snowflakes caught in a hibernal spider’s web, which should have had longer to tilt their crystalline arms to the sky and twirl and laugh.
By Cecile Randall2 months ago in Poets
