Sad short poems

Sorrow

May God keep sadness away from us and from you, and it is a state that a person expresses either by isolation, crying, or anger at times, or by writing, and expressing sadness in writing is the goal of the article, and here I present some sad poems.

Sad short poems

• Oh, the greatness of oppression, there is no trick in hand

Wounds from relatives and the fault of me and me!

If I intended to heal my anger, I did not find any means

How did he deliver my wound as long as he was stabbed in my right?

And if you cry, my eyes become stingy tears

Oh, how big it is, because the anxiety of my heart and the concern of my eyes gather together

Oh, my worries have gone too far, they have become heavy

Take a few questions from me and if you please answer me

Why after (loyalty and kindness) and great deeds

Who condemns the one whose decency first stabbed me?

And why not narrow the space in the eye of betrayal intruder

I found nothing but (the blame) finish it and show me?

Oh my worries, my wounds, the echo of the ailing soul

By God, injustice is oppression that fetters my tongue and condemns me!

On the day it was said that your envious beholder increased his saying and saying

I didn't want to, but I said, O world, have mercy on me

If I speak and tell, I must prove my evidence and evidence

The code of Menho has not been damaged. I have chosen me!

And if I keep silent and say, they are here and my years will remove it

I discovered that (the years) pass away, and worry contains me

But for the sake of the one who was elected in my grandfather's grandfather and the tribe

By God, I do not drink bitterness and bear what comes to me

And as long as there is no chest in the universe, I throw it and form it

And as long as there is no eye in it that reads my grief, which afflicts me

I only have a line of poetry that I remember every night

There is no end to the argument between my heart and my eyes

• I would collect my poetry, burn my notebooks, and shed my tears by candlelight

My tears fell on my candle to announce then that my life had become darkness without you, my love.

• O my eyes, do not fear passion in me

Oh my grief, do not make me die at night

If only I knew that in love there is an abbreviation

I would abbreviate all letters of the alphabet

Oh, if the love died in Mhgti

He is no longer alive in time

• Thank you for loving me

And from your presence you deprived me

And with the utmost tenderness she left me

With the same precision you killed me

And with the tenderness of the lover, you consoled me

And I loved others because of me

Your love was all that mattered to me

Thank you for loving me

So you left me and it hurt me

So you killed my heart, no, by God

Rather, you killed me

• Be patient, my heart, and wait, and the sadness is muffled

All meanings changed and the picture became clear

Honesty has become non-existent in these times, like loyalty

And our souls are wounded and joy is broken

All principles are published, and whoever is with him is a bargain

Even feelings are cheaper and the word wasted

Poems in grief

Poets composed the most beautiful sad poems on various topics. Among these poems are the following:

A poem that facilitates sadness

Issa Sheikh Hassan

As lovers at the beginning of the night

We urge songs to her grass

As time opens our remote dreams

We lose our names in leaving

Snack on what's possible and dry

I bet I'm dead

remaining drop

You keep me waiting for the sheikh's hymn

when he returns to his rose

He performs the second prostration

As mothers

Their mouths full of tears babbling

Bake to the sap of the host

Qusay about palm trees

Brave without a tender fluff

To open up I see him wandering Bqamatna

There is no moon bathed in the night of visions

And not a swallow that drinks to what we smell

Nasheed her days

and its pistachios

Which was overlooked by the tales of the cold of Canon

in the following wheat

I share with you now these lamentations

This is the pain of being

And this rain

The next morning, a pet death passes by my door

Tomorrow I come back

An angel of roses

I breathe all the space

I count the sins that I have not tasted

I count the faces drawn by their torments in my letters

And all the faces that played the mask game

And she passed me by the garment of advice

Oh and I know my heart

He will leave me and my lazy sins

In the midst of the sable

He will excel in that name (nostalgia)

Nor about me

Ki Amari Sababatah

And he knows that I have been patient with him

And polite reproach roses

And I mastered counting his mistakes

But

He will walk alone

It goes on to a sentence in absence

And I know him shy and arrogant

And he will not stoop to cry

If the letters regret it

He shaded it with a grape arbor

And I know him

As Ndamah overlooks the night

of the songs

And the cup of poetry

he sings to them

And prowl the far place

With the comfort of his groans

Yes

And I know him when my mother fills him a glass

of tea

And ignite a field of memories

Perhaps there is some wood on the fire

And I know that he does not return his greetings to me

And he does not honor my scars

Yes, reproach

Because I'm too late for it

When the bathroom woke up

On a stab in the damp evening

Yes

And extends the seas to his night

Then he runs

The noon glow beats

It makes me ecstatic

He claims that the doves are singing at the point of Noon

And I know my heart

He likes to play the letters of the country

And guards the meaning of whiteness

which diminishes to blackness

Nor does he like to humiliate the tribe

Nor to see a helmet resting

And he did not learn from the river how to travel without pebbles

He did not learn from others the professionalism of gossip

Nor did his dreams deviate from the board

His blinders

Her handkerchiefs did not stop the birds singing

And I know him

He does not yearn for me

And I am aware - I was - in the gathering of his longings

Without an excuse, I entertain flipping it

There is no shiver in the confusion of the hands

I call the day harvesting the bed

I pray without a cloud

Birds may return towards sunset

And I throw away what's left of the ordinary ones

The neighing letters

And I'm from crying over the latents

I'm bleeding

And me in my prayer on the shore of the night

An old chapter of grammar

He indulges in the goodness of evidence

I don't mind the distance between the beautiful stillness

Among the songs that washed me

With long, long sadness

Guardian of my larks

If the hoarse between the fingers my heart

And money on a withered rose

Be distracted, to leave me and my lazy sins

In the midst of the sable

And I have a bleeding pain that does not heal

If my girlfriend left me

She said, "I'm late."

And I went into a deadly alienation

Who will take solace in me

And who will decorate my little grave with a house of lamentation?

So I went short, short

to the family book

to the home of my heart

But my heart will walk alone

To fall asleep in a respite of singing

I yearn for a misfortune

However, I am afraid that if I do not cry, they will wake up

My tears wet their pajamas

so I laugh

Laugh

Laugh

Even the loose crying

And I have everything left by the stars of light

He turns away

But every groan is sadness

She sighs from the mud

Sad daygrass

And then I have a good ember

My good brothers die with it

The ashes of the texts are interpreted in us

And you read our tired days

A poem of sadness and anger

Mahmoud Darwish

The sound in your lips does not rejoice

And the fire in your lungs is invincible

And your father's father is crucified on the shoes of an immigrant

And her lips give only you, and her breasts milk

Do not get angry

Yesterday we met on the road from time to time

Your lips are pregnant

All the groaning of the oaks was gone

And you told me for the fiftieth time

So-and-so's love and so-and-so's love

And a bottle of cognac

tents, and the Yemeni sword

In vain you numb your open wound

Orgy of bottles

In vain volunteered, O night's wildest wishes

The wind in your lips destroys the songs you built

Do not get angry

They said smile to live

Your eyes smiled at the road

And your eyes disavowed a heart that was ignited by fire

And you swore to me that I am happy, comrade

And I read the philosophy of slave smiles

Wine, green, and a slender body

So if you see my blood in your wine

How do you drink, mate?

The village and the ruins

And the developer, and the earth, and the waste

and the trunks of your olives

Owl or crow nests

Who prepared the plow this year?

Who raised the dirt

Oh you, where is your brother, where is your father?

They are a mirage

Where did you come from wall security

Or fell from the clouds

Do you see preserving the dignity of the dead?

At the end of the night, he knocked on a door

And don't get angry

Do you love her?

I loved before you

She trembled at her shady locks

Was Beautiful

But she danced on my grave and my few days

She and the others were trapped on the long dance floor

And you and I blame history

And science that has lost manhood

About us

Let the streets roar

He is quenched from the humiliation of our slain flag

Do not get angry

We carried grief for years, and the morning did not come

Sadness is a fire that extinguishes our lust for days

The wind wakes her up

And the wind you have how to bridle it

And you have no weapon

Except to meet the wind and fire

In a desolate country

Abstract sadness poem

marginal student

I asked you, my friend:

What despair befell you this evening

So you lit your candles at the time of crying.

I put my hands on your old face

I hold an old sadness

I saw your heart was dead

a long time ago

And your soul was shed with tears

To betray you!

Are you sad to the end of the soul?

Until you sing your flute?!

Alas, I raised my lamp to your eyes

To see you

I saw you crying drunk

Tears wet your beard

And the flute takes care of your affairs!

You left me, so life made me miss you

I even missed you in my solitude, stranger

And when I sought you

Your eyes are thirsty

Forget your heart, so far away, so weeping

I appeal to you, father of sorrow

How did you let your orphans cry?

This crying?!

And how did you leave the mawwal hanged?

And the violins make you cry!