Experience the Latest Deep and Sad Poems

A reflective poem about choice, motherhood, and quiet acceptance. For those who’ve questioned their path and found clarity in stepping back from expectation.

I never wished to cradle or to hold,

The weight of futures woven, tales untold.

Not in my hands the seeds of life to sow,

For years have whispered what I fear to know.

A sad and reflective poem about grief, silence, and emotional restraint. For anyone who’s held too much for too long and found release in the quiet act of writing.

My sleep is thin, my thoughts are deep,

This restless mind won’t let things go.

The words I never dared to weep,

Still echo soft, and haunt me so.

A heartfelt poem about one-sided love, emotional distance, and the quiet grief of reaching for someone who no longer reaches back. For anyone who's held on too long.

How do I let go of someone I love?

He used to play “Barbie Barbie” for me.

Now I get silence, short answers, a shrug.

A tender love poem about missing someone during a brief parting. For anyone who’s felt time slow down when the person they love isn’t just across the room.

Being alone and feeling lonely too,

There’s nothing worse, they say, than that cold pair

My heart is not yet used to missing you.

A haunting poem about trauma, grief, reflection, and identity. For those who’ve seen themselves in the face of loss and felt the weight of what remains behind.

No one warned me I’d look like her—

a mirror etched with memory and ache.

She stares back,

beautifully dressed (as always)

but hollow in the eyes

Baz wouldn’t let me face.

A reflective poem questioning comfort, purpose, and what it means to live meaningfully. For readers drawn to depth, doubt, and the weight of unasked questions.

I’ve yearned for more these past few days,

For deeper truth in modern ways.

If wealth and health and all were mine,

Would happiness not fall in line?

A raw, reflective poem about grief, alcohol, and the slow path to healing. Written in the wake of loss, it explores how we numb, cope, and eventually surface—changed, still hurting, but held by something steady.

Back when my mom gave up the fight,

My world collapsed without a sound.

The days grew darker than the night,

And grief was all that wrapped around.

A bold, questioning poem about modern conviction, performative wellness, and the noise of borrowed truths. It challenges the surface-level certainty of our age and questions what happens when no one stops to look within.

We live in a strange and curious age,

Where billionaires take centre stage.

Where friends and kin all speak with flair,

Of food and health as if they care.

The more I write,

the more I see patterns

not symmetrical,

not pleasing,

just the quiet stitching

of things I’ve avoided.

A powerful poem about family, grief, and abandonment. It captures the quiet devastation of staying behind—bearing the load of loss, debt, and duty—while someone else walks away. Heavy, honest, and unforgettable.

When Dad stayed long in hospital care,

He lost his job; the bills grew tall.

Mum bore the load—it wasn’t fair,

Her wages barely stretched at all.

I sip my coffee in pink cotton ease,

Mourning a life that comes with no fees.

Journaling woes in pastel ink,

While the world outside begins to sink.

Women bleed where bombs don’t pause,

It’s been a stretch of strange days,

where nothing fits but the word weird.

I write it down like a nervous tick,

hoping ink can make it clear.

Words slip through fingers,

like water in morning light—

I sit with the silence,

dream-echoed and hollow.

Yesterday wore me

I write of light as if it’s mine to summon,

a switch to flick when the dark overstays.

But truth seeps in not loud, not violent,

just a slow and heavy knowing.

Something in me has lived beneath the weight

of joy postponed, of silence that doesn’t soothe

It’s our four-year anniversary today.

Strange how close and far it feels

like I could touch that moment still,

but also see how time now steals.

I thought I’d been writing,

this journal my proof

but pages whispered silence,

forgotten months spoke truth.

Six entries here, none there,

From one good day to a bad one the next, I fall,

Thought quitting the scroll would fix it all.

I silenced the pings, the filters, the feed,

But somehow I’m worse, not even remotely freed.

I wonder if my mum would’ve liked this day,

Surrounded by pens in a bright array.

She loved her stationery, more than I do

Diaries, journals, a planner or two.

I drank too much, it dimmed the light,

Yet something in me knew it right.

A moment’s slip, a tender ache,

A yearning heart that had to break.