Sympathy Quotes

Baptism – Baptism Poems

lucky — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 05:08:10 +0000

Into the furnace let me go alone;
Stay you without in terror of the heat.
I will go naked in–for thus ”tis sweet–
Into the weird depths of the hottest zone.
I will not quiver in the frailest bone,
You will not note a flicker of defeat;
My heart shall tremble not its fate to meet,
My mouth give utterance to any moan.
The yawning oven spits forth fiery spears;
Red aspish tongues shout wordlessly my name.
Desire destroys, consumes my mortal fears,
Transforming me into a shape of flame.
I will come out, back to your world of tears,
A stronger soul within a finer frame.

(Poem By Claude McKay)

For A Sad Lady – Sad Poems

lucky — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 05:24:14 +0000

And let her loves, when she is dead,
Write this above her bones:
“No more she lives to give us bread
Who asked her only stones.”

(Poem By Dorothy Parker)

A Fairly Sad Tale – Sad Poems

lucky — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 05:13:29 +0000

I think that I shall never know
Why I am thus, and I am so.
Around me, other girls inspire
In men the rush and roar of fire,
The sweet transparency of glass,
The tenderness of April grass,
The durability of granite;
But me- I don’t know how to plan it.
The lads I’ve met in Cupid’s deadlock
Were- shall we say?- born out of wedlock.
They broke my heart, they stilled my song,
And said they had to run along,
Explaining, so to sop my tears,
First came their parents or careers.
But ever does experience
Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense!
Though she’s a fool who seeks to capture
The twenty-first fine, careless rapture,
I must go on, till ends my rope,
Who from my birth was cursed with hope.
A heart in half is chaste, archaic;
But mine resembles a mosaic-
The thing’s become ridiculous!
Why am I so? Why am I thus?

(Poem By Dorothy Parker)

The Sad Mother – Sad Poems

lucky — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 05:29:28 +0000

Sleep, sleep, my beloved,
without worry, without fear,
although my soul does not sleep,
although I do not rest.

Sleep, sleep, and in the night
may your whispers be softer
than a leaf of grass,
or the silken fleece of lambs.

May my flesh slumber in you,
my worry, my trembling.
In you, may my eyes close
and my heart sleep.

(Poem By Gabriela Mistral)

The Sad Message – Sad Poems

lucky — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 04:48:31 +0000

The Captain becomes moody at sea. He’s
afraid of water; such bully amounts that prove the
seas. . .

A glass of water is one thing. A man easily downs
it, capturing its menace in his bladder; pissing it
away. A few drops of rain do little harm, save to
remind of how grief looks upon the cheek.

One day the water is willing to bear your ship
upon its back like a liquid elephant. The next day
the elephant doesn’t want you on its back, and
says, I have no more willingness to have you
there; get off.

At sea this is a sad message.

The Captain sits in his cabin wearing a
parachute, listening to what the sea might say.

(Poem By Russell Edson)

Sad Steps – Sad Poems

lucky — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 06:46:29 +0000

Groping back to bed after a piss
I part the thick curtains, and am startled by
The rapid clouds, the moon’s cleanliness.

Four o’clock: wedge-shaped gardens lie
Under a cavernous, a wind-pierced sky.
There’s something laughable about this,

The way the moon dashes through the clouds that blow
Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart
(Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)

High and preposterous and separate–
Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!
O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,

One shivers slightly, looking up there.
The hardness and the brightness and the plain
far-reaching singleness of that wide stare

Is a reminder of the strength and pain
Of being young; that it can’t come again,
But is for others undiminished somewhere.

(Poem By Philip Larkin)

Sonnet With How Sad Steps – Sad Poems

lucky — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 06:09:47 +0000

With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whoom that love doth possess?
Do they call ‘virtue’ there – ungratefulness?

(Poem By Sir Philip Sidney)

To The Sad Moon – Sad Poems

lucky — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 06:49:18 +0000

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! May it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call ‘virtue’ there— ungratefulness?

(Poem By Philip Sidney)

The Long Sad Party – Sad Poems

lucky — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 08:36:07 +0000

Someone was saying
something about shadows covering the field, about
how things pass, how one sleeps towards morning
and the morning goes.

Someone was saying
how the wind dies down but comes back,
how shells are the coffins of wind
but the weather continues.

It was a long night
and someone said something about the moon shedding its
white
on the cold field, that there was nothing ahead
but more of the same.

Someone mentioned
a city she had been in before the war, a room with two
candles
against a wall, someone dancing, someone watching.
We begin to believe

the night would not end.
Someone was saying the music was over and no one had
noticed.
Then someone said something about the planets, about the
stars,
how small they were, how far away.

(Poem By Mark Strand)

My Sad Captains – Sad Poems

lucky — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 06:21:47 +0000

One by one they appear in
the darkness: a few friends, and
a few with historical
names. How late they start to shine!
but before they fade they stand
perfectly embodied, all

the past lapping them like a
cloak of chaos. They were men
who, I thought, lived only to
renew the wasteful force they
spent with each hot convulsion.
They remind me, distant now.

True, they are not at rest yet,
but now they are indeed
apart, winnowed from failures,
they withdraw to an orbit
and turn with disinterested
hard energy, like the stars.

(Poem By Thom Gunn)