Melancholy Poem Novels & Stories

I hate her for leaving me and making me sad like this. ‘I hate you, Grandma Momma. But I still love you so much.’ I stepped away from my grandmother’s grave. It’s getting dark and the silence of the place intensified the sadness that I am feeling right now. The cold wind blew my hair and I couldn’t help but to hug myself. How can I live now? “Merida Green, if you don’t come out now, I’ll break this door and drag you out,” I heard my Dad outside my room, shouting with anger in his voice.

With that we talked through the night . There are times that you would close your eyes, Those special memories of me will always bring back a smile, Calling my number repeatedly but with no response , If only you could have me back for just a little while you would say ,When I fade like the shadow of moon or like the whispers of the sea, The times of pain and the days of sorrow ,Miss me a little but not too long ,I want no cries, why cry for a soul gone to a better place, a home built with gold ,The time when living feels like dying ,Miss me but let me go , When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set for me , Miss me but let me go , For this journey is one we all must take , Bury

Nor do the heedless in the throng, One thought beyond the morrow give, They court the feast, the dance, the song, Nor think how short their time to live. The heart that bears deep sorrow’s trace, What earthly comfort can console, It drags a dull and lengthened pace, ‘Till friendly death its woes enroll. The sunken cheek, the humid eyes, E’en better than the tongue can tell; In whose sad breast deep sorrow lies, Where memory’s rankling traces dwell.The rising tear, the stifled sigh, A mind but ill at ease display, Like blackening clouds in a stormy sky, Where fiercely vivid play. Thus when souls’ energy is dead, When sorrow dims each earthly view, When every fairy, hope is fled, We bid the un

With that we talked through the night . There are times that you would close your eyes, Those special memories of me will always bring back a smile, Calling my number repeatedly but with no response , If only you could have me back for just a little while you would say ,When I fade like the shadow of moon or like the whispers of the sea, The times of pain and the days of sorrow ,Miss me a little but not too long ,I want no cries, why cry for a soul gone to a better place, a home built with gold ,The time when living feels like dying ,Miss me but let me go , When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set for me , Miss me but let me go , For this journey is one we all must take , Bury

I sat at my desk, my gaze drifting out the window as I waited for the teacher to arrive. Again. It was a ritual I'd grown accustomed to – the tardiness, the excuses, the awkward silences. My mind began to wander, and I found myself scribbling in my notebook, the words flowing effortlessly onto the page. "In shadows cast by fleeting light, Suffering wears a mask of night, A paradox of pain and peace, A silence that the soul can't cease."

And then, the voice sang: “Hello there, my shadowed friend; you lingered in my mind. In this dance of life and death, you’ve left me intertwined. The echoes of your whispers claw deep into my soul. A symphony of heartache in the silence takes its toll.” “I thought I knew who i was before the weight of time began, But now the mirror’s cracked, and all I see is someone I can’t understand.” “I walk through life like a ghost; nothing ever feels the same.

The only other sound's the break, Of distant waves and birds awake The silver necklace is beautiful, unique and deep, But she has promises to keep, Until then she shall not sleep. She lies in bed with ducts that weep. She rises from her bitter bed, With thoughts of sadness in her head, She idolises being dead. Facing the day with never-ending dread. ~~ Theodora Twitty <><><><><><><><><> Readers, you will understand what I am talking about in this poem in the next chapter:)

The coolest atmosphere took Each movement felt like a struggle against an invisible vice, her very essence threatened by the unyielding grip of the cold. In this realm of relentless cold, the world seemed to whisper echoes of despair, the very wind a mournful dirge that carried tales of sorrow. Her heartbeat, sluggish and faint, thudded as if echoing the rhythm of her anguish. And then, as if a symphony of resignation had reached its crescendo, she closed her eyes, her lashes fluttering against the cold's relentless assault. Her voice, soft as a whisper, carried a weight of resignation as she murmured words that bore the weight of a lifetime's pain.

The man held a photograph, his fingers caressing the glass as if searching for a connection beyond time. The rain outside echoed the melancholy reflected inside. Each drop against the window felt like a sigh of nature, sharing the sadness that weighed down the room. The clock on the wall ticked away relentlessly, marking time that seemed to have no meaning in that moment of mourning. The man, lost in his memories, whispered words that the wind had carried away, a conversation with an emptiness that now seemed greater than he could bear. Grief enveloped him like a shadow, a constant presence that whispered that life had changed forever.

As the rain poured relentlessly outside, I found myself drawn to the window, my heart heavy with a mix of nerves and unexplained sadness. Each raindrop seemed to mirror the strange ache within me, falling with a gentle but persistent rhythm. “Who is she?.......” I mumbled to myself watching the droplets slide down the glass, blurring the world outside, mirroring the unexplainable tears that threatened to escape my eyes. The pitter-patter of rain became a soothing soundtrack to my racing thoughts, as I grappled with the weight of my emotions.