Melancholy Poem Novels & Stories

He sat feeling uncomfortable, he wondered what Sarah was up to. "Ryan, Incase I die, do not weep by my grave." "How...like what do you mean?" He looked at her perplexed. "Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight.

It was a song, low, endless, resonating through the ice like an ancient lullaby rising from the ocean floor. Then it took shape; “Manolya… ooh… Manolya Whispers rise from the deep below Through the depths of the ocean cold I am here… I am here… Lay down your fight, lay down to rest… The salt is sweet against your chest. Through wind and rain, through tears and pain, Break the link of sorrow’s chain. Come rest in my embrace tonight, It’s dark and peaceful, yet blinding bright. Let shadows dance in eternal flight,

It was a song, low, endless, resonating through the ice like an ancient lullaby rising from the ocean floor. Then it took shape; “Manolya… ooh… Manolya Whispers rise from the deep below Through the depths of the ocean cold I am here… I am here… Lay down your fight, lay down to rest… The salt is sweet against your chest. Through wind and rain, through tears and pain, Break the link of sorrow’s chain. Come rest in my embrace tonight, It’s dark and peaceful, yet blinding bright. Let shadows dance in eternal flight,

After listening to Pang Tong’s poem in addition to seeing how thin Yvette looked, Darryl was heartbroken and inspired to personally write a completely new poem based on Pang Tong’s and his own emotions. The first two lines, ‘Where the idle sorrow is, it fills the sea and fills our words.’ represented how depressed Darryl felt for the past few days.

"A glimmer of hope, can cause one to choke. The caress of a single tear, cracking glass in a mirror. Steady heartbeat, It's not to keep. Running so fast, away from the past. Silent in the night, sulking away from light. Chills from the cold, arms tight to hold. Sudden despair, this is fair. Mistakes made, choices to trade. Dreamless sleep, in way too deep. Faith falters, drowning waters. Screaming out, No one about. It is finally time, the soul doesn't shine. No more waiting, She is fading."

A part of his spirit, the part that burned so brightly, has been extinguished. He looks up at me, his eyes hollow. “Lily?” he whispers, as if waking from a long dream. I go to him, hold him. The workshop is silent. The war is over. But the twist is in the air we breathe. The shattered Muse is now part of the environment. A faint, lingering melancholy infuses everything. I look at my clumsy, joyful painting and see, in the strokes of yellow, a subtle, sorrowful undertone. I hear it in the silence after my spoon stops banging on the pot. A haunting echo.

I said and closed my eyes and raised a glass in toast to our fallen. To the living, I am gone. To the sorrowful, I will never return. To the angry, I was cheated, But to the happy, I am at peace, And to the faithful, I have never left. I cannot be seen, but I can be heard. So as you stand upon a shore, gazing at a beautiful sea - remember me. As you look in awe at a mighty forest and it’s grand majesty - remember me. As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity -