Sad Poems: Shanghai Edition

Sad Poems reflect on the darker, sadder side of life. These expertly crafted verses cut to the poignant truths of love, loss, hope, fear, desire, struggle and other human conditions.

The following nuggets of sublime writesmanship are inspired by the pathos of living and working in the Orient. While not a bildungsroman, they have no shortage of spiritual development or awesomeness.

To read my original Sad Poems, click on this link.

Portrait of an Old Chinaman Sitting in a Chair in a Sunny Alley

A well worn wool cap
Grey cloth against patchy grey hair
Golden brown folds of sun chapped skin
Eyes as anuses upon a wrinkled canvas of stoic emotion
The old man sits on a wooden chair with red padded seat
The ground dusty from construction
He wears slippers, though he is outside
He has a container of well-steeped tea sitting beside him
His look is neither of boredom nor joy
It’s inscrutable
An expression as timeless as the sun that warms him
I wish I knew how to ask him if there was a public bathroom nearby.

The Little Ones

No greater joy than a child’s embrace
A small little mouth giving a kiss to your face.
The innocence and wonder
The energy and spunk
No one I was arrested for writing this junk.

The Okay Wall

There is a wall between us.
It is made of stone and hostility.
I attack it with swords and spears
But it withstands my ability.
I’m not a Manchurian.
You’re not a Ming.
Why would you ever build such a thing.
Walls can be great
Walls can be tall
But holding back my love
They are certain to fall.

The Man and the Moon (Dave Don’t Know)

Glowing orb upon the negative sky
Reflecting the hope of the day into my gloomy eyes
For millennia you have watched over the earth
When amoebae became bigger amoebae and dinosaurs ruled the roost.
I am but a speck in your memory,
A selfish little fellow urinating on his neighbor’s roses because of some remarks the neighbor shouldn’t have made about someone else’s roses.
Petty concerns these are to you, oh wise one.
But you don’t have to roll your eyes at me
I’m not worthless.
My roses are pretty awesome.
Dave don’t know.
Dave don’t know.

The Marks I Bare

A belly grown plump and healthy like a steamed dumpling
Tired, bloated hawthorn berries for eyes.
These are the marks I bare.

Willy Can You Hear Me?

Will can you hear me?
Oh Willy can you hear me?
Can you hear the sound of my heart being ripped out from behind my ample breasts when you didn’t return my text message?
It was a simple question.
Just eleven characters via overpriced cellular transmission.


I’m in emotional pain right now.
Also, I’m a clam.


I needed you to cheer me up when I was blue
I needed you to tie my shoe
I needed you to cut me down
I needed you to build me up

I’ve been with you for far too much time
and all you did was borrow my love and DVDs
I made your bed, and cared for your dead.
I lost my mind time after time
I was head over heals.
You used me and abused me
Never returned Free Willy.
But that’s okay.
We’re through.

I needed you to realize I don’t need you.

To Not Have and to Not Hold

The inky blackness surrounds me
I’m getting so old
All alone in the pit
With no one to hold

November 19th, 2009. Categories / Writing

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