Poems on Loss, Loneliness, and Despair

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By:
Layla Farsi

Photo by novokayn on Unsplash

Experience the profound depth of emotion with a collection of somber verses that delve into the heartache and solitude of the human experience. These poems capture the essence of despair, each one a reflection on the shadows that can fall upon the soul.
6 min read
Table of contents
The Echo of Silence
Frayed Threads
Winter's Embrace
The Weight of Shadows
Lost Echoes
Gone Days
Autumn's Decay
Whispers of Despair
Forgotten Melody
Shattered Reflection

The Echo of Silence

The silence is loud, it’s unbearably stark,

A cold, stubborn shadow that engulfs the park,

No children, no laughter, no whisper of swings,

Just the hush of the void, as the stillness clings.

The benches sit empty where lovers once sat,

The pathway's abandoned, not even a cat,

Each echo of footsteps, a memory fades,

Into the silence that darkness cascades.

And in this vast quiet, I'm lost and alone,

A heart with no compass, a king with no throne,

The silence, a mirror, a haunting reflect,

Of life without sound, without love to detect.

 

 

Frayed Threads

A tapestry woven, once vibrant and whole,

Now threads come unbound, unraveling soul,

Each twitch of the fabric, a lost narrative,

A tale of a life that had much more to give.

Where color once danced, now grey shadows creep,

And patterns that soothed, now cause hearts to weep,

Frayed edges, the remnants of dreams torn apart,

Embody the sorrow that weighs on the heart.

The weaver's hand trembles, can't capture the past,

As memories fade, they’re too fragile to last,

What's left is a canvas, bereft and bereaved,

A story unfinished, once brightly conceived.

 

 

Winter's Embrace

The cold bites at fingers, at toes, and at hope,

The horizon a blur, a chill’s slipknot rope,

Winter's embrace, so tight and unkind,

Strangles the warmth that summer left behind.

Snowflakes like ashes, they fall and they lie,

A blanket of grief from a leaden sky,

Under this shroud, the earth gently weeps,

As life retreats, and the coldness seeps.

No crocus peeking, no daffodil’s cheer,

Just the bitter wind whispering, “No one’s here,”

The frost etches glass with sorrow's own hand,

Leaving its tears on the desolate land.

 

 

The Weight of Shadows

The shadows grow heavy, they lean, they press,

A darkening burden, the soul to caress,

Like chains forged in anguish, welded by fears,

They cling and they drag, through the passing years.

The sun dips below, takes its warmth, its glow,

And with it, the laughter, that's learned to lie low,

The shadows then merge, an indistinct mass,

In their depths, the light of hope shudders and gasps.

No dawn's gentle touch to dispel this night,

No kindling spark, to set the world right,

Left in the dark, the soul’s endless plight,

Strained under shadows that wall out the light.

 

 

Lost Echoes

The words that were spoken now wander, lost,

Amidst the void where such high cost,

Was paid in tears that fell like rain,

In silent echoes, the aftermath of pain.

The sound of laughter, once crystal clear,

Is now just a ghost, that none can hear,

A memory fleeing, the grasp of the day,

Leaves nothing behind, as it fades away.

Each echo’s loss, a footprint in time,

That once had a rhythm, a reason, a rhyme,

Now silence lays claim to what used to be,

A symphony's remains, lost at sea.

 

 

Gone Days

The calendar pages, they flip and they fly,

A whirlwind of time that passes by,

Days turn to dust, hours crumble away,

Leaving a man with nothing to say.

Each tick of the clock, a sharp, stinging blow,

To a heart that's been broken, with nothing to show,

For years that were given to love and to live,

And yet in return, had nothing to give.

No flicker of promise in time's vast expanse,

No moment to seize, no second chance,

Gone days whisper softly, of what might have been,

A cruel reminder, a piercing din.

 

 

Autumn's Decay

The leaves drift down, surrendering life,

They dance with a grace that cuts like a knife,

The colors of fire, now fading to brown,

As autumn lets go, the trees bow down.

Their vibrant hues, a fleeting show,

Lie trampled, forgotten, the end of the glow,

And under the weight of the ever-grey sky,

Nature mourns with a sullen cry.

This decay speaks of more than an end of a phase,

It sings of the finality, in haunting ways,

Whispers of mortality, through chilled air it says,

"All that begins, to dust repays."

 

 

Whispers of Despair

The night’s darkest hours, whisper soft and low,

Words filled with sorrow, with pain they bestow,

They creep through the cracks in the heart's armored wall,

Sowing seeds of despair that blossom in all.

The whispers, like serpents, they twist and they turn,

In the soul's garden where hope used to burn,

Now hope’s flame is smothered, by doubting’s cold hands,

In its place, only the void expands.

No sunrise to herald a new day’s birth,

No respite, no solace, no peace on this earth,

Just whispers persisting, with each shallow breath,

The companions of loneliness, the heralds of death.

 

 

Forgotten Melody

The song that once played, so sweet, so free,

Is silenced now, a forgotten melody,

A tune that hummed in the days of yore,

Doesn't grace these ears, doesn't soar anymore.

The notes, scattered, in disarray,

A symphony of life that's drifted away,

With each passing moment, the music fades,

As the light in the eyes, to darkness wades.

A quiet so profound, it echoes pain,

In rooms that will not hear that song again,

The silence left behind, a void so stark,

Is the testament of a life that lost its spark.

 

 

Shattered Reflection

The mirror holds an image, once whole and clear,

Now shattered, the cracks spread far and near,

Each fragment tells a story, a broken life's tale,

Of dreams that soared, then in tempests fell.

No longer does it show a visage true,

But a jigsaw of pain, of a life askew,

In the scattered pieces, you can ruefully see,

The person I was, not the one I came to be.

So here I stay, gazing into the abyss,

Where once there were features, now amiss,

Just shattered reflections of the time that’s gone,

And the haunting question, "where did I go wrong?"

 

 

 

PUBLISHED: Jan 27, 2024
Written By
Layla Farsi
Urban artist and city whisperer, I'm Layla — crafting narratives where street vibes and vivid imagery intertwine.
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