Despair poems are sad songs that talk about feeling sad and hopeless. They talk about struggles, loneliness, or the feeling that things will never get better.
Despair is a heavy, deep sadness that makes it hard to see any way for things to get better. Despair arises in response to challenging life circumstances.
Despair poems are like listening to a sad song that makes your heart feel heavy. It creates a sense of connection among people who have faced tough times, reminding us that we’re not alone in our struggles.
It allows readers to connect with their own emotions. In this poetry collection, we have collected some of the best despair poems. Let’s read them and share them with others.
By A.E. Housman
I promise nothing: friends will part;
All things may end, for all began;
And truth and singleness of heart
Are mortal even as is man.
But this unlucky love should last
When answered passions thin to air;
Eternal fate so deep has cast
Its sure foundation of despair.
The winds blew north
for hundreds of days,
but one day,
the winds changed.
They started blowing south.
And everything in their path
started going south as well.
By Rabindranath Tagore
Art thou abroad on this stormy night
on thy journey of love, my friend?
The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight.
Ever and again I open my door and look out on
the darkness, my friend!
I can see nothing before me.
I wonder where lies thy path!
By what dim shore of the ink-black river,
by what far edge of the frowning forest,
through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading
thy course to come to me, my friend?
I Can Laugh Now
I can laugh now.
Have you not heard my laughter?
It leads the winds:
They come tumbling and bubbling after.
I have learned to laugh.
I have learned to laugh with my spirit
And with my soul.
Listen. Do you not hear it?
I shall quench the world.
I shall sear the stars with my laughter;
Shrivel the moon and the sun
And make new ones after.
For life’s skeleton
I shall make flesh from desires;
Then of my mounting laughter
Build it a temple with mocking spires.
I shall laugh to heaven.
I shall laugh below hell and above.
I shall laugh forever.
It was laughter God died of.
By Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I have experienc’d
The worst, the World can wreak on me–the worst
That can make Life indifferent, yet disturb
With whisper’d Discontents the dying prayer–
I have beheld the whole of all, wherein
My Heart had any interest in this Life,
To be disrent and torn from off my Hopes
That nothing now is left. Why then live on ?
That Hostage, which the world had in it’s keeping
Given by me as a Pledge that I would live–
That Hope of Her, say rather, that pure Faith
In her fix’d Love, which held me to keep truce
With the Tyranny of Life–is gone ah ! whither ?
What boots it to reply ? ’tis gone ! and now
Well may I break this Pact, this League of Blood
That ties me to myself–and break I shall !
The Peace Of Wild Things Poem
By Wendell Berry
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Be Glad Your Nose Is On Your Face
By Jack Prelutsky
Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you’d be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear –
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! ‘
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
This is all about the despair poems.