#grief poems on Hello Poetry

Limes Carma Apr 29

Snow

When you’ve done enough
The sorrow will fade in the lack of clear thoughts and the beats of a broken heart will eventually stop

#heartbreak #drugs #substanceabuse #death #notokay #relationship #grief #loss #love

Limes Carma 40m

My Heart Ran

We all wish to die of old age in our sleep,
But what if my slow death began at 22 and ends at 83?
What if the love I was offered in life was deadly?
I know love might show up with a different face, but that just ain’t it for me.
If it’s not yours, it’ll always pretend to be.

#limescarma #heartbreak #lettinggo #regret #existential #emotionalwounds #love #grief #younglove #death

Yash Shukla 55m

काश उस दिन उसका भी कोई भाई होता

काश उस दिन उसका भी कोई भाई होता,
आज वो सितारा हमारे बीच ज़िंदा होता।
काश कोई उसे जाकर बचा लेता,
कम से कम उसका तो ख़ून न बहता।

नरभक्षी भेड़ियों ने ली थी उसकी जान,
छोड़ा था उसे वहीं तड़पता, लहूलुहान।
चिल्लाती रही वो उसी जगह पर,
न जाने कितने ही जुल्म हुए थे उस पर।

नारी को निर्वस्त्र करने का परिणाम –
इस भूमि ने महाभारत देखा था।
धिक्कार है ऐसे समाज पर –
उसी भूमि ने आज यह अपराध देखा था।

जल रही हैं मोमबत्तियां शोक व्यक्त करने,
आंदोलन कर रहे हैं लोग और दे रहे हैं धरने।
क्या इस बार होगा उन दरिंदों पर कठिन शासन,
या फिर एक बार उभरेगा एक नया दुःशासन?

यह कविता १९ अगस्त २०२४ को लिखी गई है

#injustice #rage #violenceagainstwomen #society #crime #truth #protest #grief #awareness #poeticjustice

John Doe 4h

To The Unknown Someone

Whatever name you bear, wherever you may be
Know in my suffering, I thought oft of thee
I may never meet you, may never know your smile
Such grieving thoughts, my heart cannot reconcile

I could dally in fantasy, but it would never be true
It might numb my aching, but it would never be you
I dwell in the pain, in the fear and unease
so one day I may sit with you, under the shade of trees

In the silence of spring morning, grass glistening from rain
There need be said nothing, for our eyes would make plain
the fulfillment of aching, the two joined in one
a foretaste of mystery, the Church and the Son.

For here as I'm writing, in my doubt and my grief,
I write this meager poem, to hold firm to belief,
that God may bring us hither, so that you might here see
knowing the depth of my love for you, and the prayers made for thee.

A knight's prayer

#longing #love #marriage #christian #suffering #hope #grief #joy #sadness #faith

Gaurav Gurung 13h

Guerrilla Warfare

Ever since we gained consciousness
We were-
Taught to slit throats; not algebra and geometry
Handed not cricket bats but automated rifles

Taught not to play but to hang them by the tree
Dressed not in uniforms but bandanas over our forehead.
Sworn not to education but to shoot heartlessly

We raided a village and killed the head
Took some more of their kind
Decapitated; watched the green turn red
We smoked their temple; raised our flag
Watch the light fade
As they fell into eternal nap.

Their forces marched with guns and bombs
But mostly useless; for we hid among shadows
We reigned over branches and slit them when they least expected.
We had sworn our loyalty when we hadn't learnt to speak
We felt no joy; no sorrow
We didn't know what our future would be,
Would it be a death in the form of a bullet?
Would it be called normalcy?

One raid complete- forced to fight the next
We were always fighting for they said we were the best,
All of us had our appetite for blood,
I robbed a mother of her child-
Snapped the little thing right in front of her.
Shot one up his ******,
Plucked one off his ear-
A girl my age watched with horror, the advocacy of a Devil-
Smeared in mahogany red with gushes of fluid splashing on my face.
I gripped the machete, ready to strike
But her eyes were an aegis of her own-
An iron resistance against something that had never felt warmth,
My heart ached as if Hell was gavelling every part of me.
To tear that perfect face of hers- To gouge out her aegis with my warhammer.
Every step towards her felt heavy, so I pulled out my pistol
Aiming right towards her, my finger jammed as if the metacarpals were commanding me to stop.
I had like a Godman bestowed mercy upon her to cover up my inability to blow her the Death kiss.

As I turned the other side, a bullet flew beside my ear-
The "swoosh" rapidity bedazzled me
With anxiety and fear, I turned my back
To see my Dead Deity,
The comrade shot her dead- his unholiness pierced through her shield.
A string passed through my head and it gifted me a memory;
Of us playing in the sand building castles
Of us going to school together
Never had I seen the beach,
Never had I experienced learning,
So what was that?

After the raid was done, I plucked a blood-stained daisy and placed it over her dead body.
And to this day, I think
How life would've been
If it was different and she was with me.

Dive into a short physiological anti-war poem that incorporates obscure twists as it progresses. Hope you enjoy

#antiwar #psychology #storytelling #free #verse #love #grief #regret

kortu valentine 18h

the heart doesn't fit the home.

a ring of embers—
with my heart
gently dancing around it.
my face is flushed,
damp with tears,
as if they’ve started
boiling in the mist.
I miss you—
but you know that
already.

in my mind,
I’m still running
through the churchyard,
over stone paths,
stepping on yellowed leaves
that gave up weeks ago.
inside me:
homesickness, awe,
anger, grief—
a hundred hands,
all pulling.

you’re a morsel of bread,
bird-snatched, half-left—
carried home in my satchel,
like a labourer
at the day’s end.
you are what you say you are.
and more.
a frame around my soul
I can’t keep building.

I cannot call you mine.
I have a homeland.
you gave the exile shelter—
but she, the other,
birthed me, shields me,
and one day
will cover me with earth.
I cannot betray her.

for what you made
and left behind,
I owe you still.
I’ll bury your legacy
like treasure
in the quietest parts.
it’s mine to guard.

and maybe one day,
when time has vanished,
I can return to you—
shed a tear for us
on a rainy evening,
wipe you clean
like an old photograph,
and place you gently
back into
a quiet corner
of the past.

July 10, 2025.
this one is about loyalty split in half. one gave me language, the other gave me life.

#home #homesick #homeland #migration #belonging #roots #exile #identity #nostalgia #grief

Kiernan Norman 22h

Poet Laureate of American Mistakes

I’m in a Target parking lot
wearing his sweatshirt
and a sash that says
'Poet Laureate of American Mistakes'
because I won it in a landslide
against every girl
who’s ever texted
“you up?”
knowing **** well he is,
but not for her.

I didn’t cry today,
but I did stare at a peach
for ten minutes thinking
about death,
and foreplay,
and if any of this even counts as research.

I think about texting him
just to say
I’m sorry I made you a metaphor.
But the truth is
I’m not.
He was the only thing
that ever meant something
after I wrote it down.

I came here for toothpaste
and left with a bikini top
I’m too emotionally haunted to wear,
and a notebook I won’t open-
because if I do,
I’ll make art again,
and I’m trying to quit,
but I never really try that hard.
I don’t even know if I want to get better.
I just want someone to notice.

A man honks behind me
because I’m not moving.
Because I parked
but forgot to arrive.
Because I’m not really here,
I’m three texts back
and one year late.
You don’t know it’s the last time
until your hands feel stupid.

I wave like I’m sorry
but I’m not.
I’m just poetic.
Which is worse.

This parking lot’s a stage.
I’ve died here six different ways.
Once in June.
Twice in sweatpants.
The fourth time I thought it was over,
but the music kept playing.

I wear the sash like I’m in on the joke,
because it takes a hint of genius
to be this stupid,
because when I said
“I’m okay,”
no one fact-checked me,
and when I said
“I didn’t learn anything,”
they gave me
a crown.

I take the sash off
before starting the car.
Fold it like evidence.
Leave it in the front seat
like I’m done with the bit.
But I’m not.
I just need a break
from being clever.

I should’ve bought the peach.
Let it rot on the dashboard,
at least then
something would’ve gone soft
without making it my fault.

The sweatshirt still smells like
whatever I was hoping he’d stay for,
(mainly, me.)
And the notebook?
Still closed.
Which is hilarious, really.
Because you’re reading it.

(This poem is a lie.
I opened the notebook
before I even left the store.)

#heartbreak #love #grief #poetic #identity #girlhood #vulnerability #mistakes #nostalgia #emotion

Kaitied 1d

All that's Left

I know the mirror cannot lie
Yet I hope that somehow
Just this once
It is mistaken

I pray the girl I see
Looking back at me
Is not a reflection
But a figment of imagination

Her lonely eyes
Her wilted youth
Forgotten grace
A sorrowful face

Surely that empty shell
The mere remnant of a soul
Couldn't really be
All that's left of me

#anxiety #depression #grief #loss #mentalhealth

Nosy 1d

To stay, For you

Why must I be within your heart
This hurts as I wanted to leave,
When with eternity you grow,
And every fare declines way.

This could mean I shall stay,
But for whom,
Just for you.

Chýbaš mi

#painful #feelings #hurt #grief #holdingon #metaphor