Poems About: DESPAIR
Poems on / about :
- carpe diem
Sinking in a sea of pain and despair-
I hold out my hand,
But there is no one to reach for it and pull me free;
I find myself sinking down deep into the cold, dark depths. read more »Lesa MRK
362.Through Her Eyes
Look through her eyes tell me what do you see?
Do you see the mountain tops glisten
with the delights of her dreams read more »ian burns
363.Bare White Walls
These walls sit in front of me
Bare white walls
One wall intrigues the mind
Chipping white paint read more »Courtney Redmond
364.Sonnet: In Despair Too, Hope Prevails
When things beyond my control do occur,
And fortune favors just the evil minds:
When my own people with me don’t concur,
My remnant patience to a halt well grinds. read more »Dr John Celes
He was gone
She was having feelings of hopelessness and despair
Her life was as empty and bare as deciduous trees are
of leaves in winter she reckoned. read more »Glenda Gambill
366.But Reach For His Hand
Across the heavens where the only sound, is that of a hymn in glory bound.
For He cares and hears our every prayer, beyond despair He is always there.
No matter how feeble our reach, He will extend a hand for each to grasp even in spite of His wrath. read more »Ruth Goldfarb
367.Nothing happens here...
Nothing happens here.
Everything occurs elsewhere.
Our thoughts constantly interact with angels and demons.
What comes to light is the result of our soul’s consent and choice. read more »JeanPierre Barakat
368.In Defensione Sui
When a poet writes the words
floating in a sea of hopelessness and despair
he does not mean
that he goes around read more »David Mitchell
369.Laughing at Death
Death has no power over us now.
You were dead once,
And I was dying.
I could not breathe without you by my side. read more »K.M. Jones
370.Grey Dog of Despair
Death? I don't know what it is.
But this I know - that death
Is twice as deep with despair.
I am frightened of the Grey Dog whose eyes read more »Tan Pratonix
371.How Easily Humans Settle In Their Own Despair
How easily humans settle in their own despair,
It's far less work not having to care
For anyone but ourselves.
Like forgotten books on high dusty shelves, read more »Not Long Left