Grief Poems - Poems For Grief

Grief poems from famous poets and best grief poems to feel good. Most beautiful grief poems ever written. Read all poems for grief.


Consummation Of Grief - Poem by Charles Bukowski

I even hear the mountains
the way they laugh
up and down their blue sides
and down in the water
the fish cry
and the water
is their tears.
I listen to the water
on nights I drink away
and the sadness becomes so great
I hear it in my clock
it becomes knobs upon my dresser
it becomes paper on the floor
it becomes a shoehorn
a laundry ticket
it becomes
cigarette smoke
climbing a chapel of dark vines. . .
it matters little
very little love is not so bad
or very little life
what counts
is waiting on walls
I was born for this
I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.

Comments about Consummation Of Grief by Charles Bukowski

  • Khairul Ahsan 9/24/2020 11:50:00 PM

    'I was born for this
    I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.' - Touching lines!
    Reply

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Mahtab Bangalee 9/24/2020 11:44:00 PM

    very little love is not so bad
    or very little life
    what counts
    is waiting on walls
    I was born for this
    I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead..........great poetic expression about the life of grievance; it's our life; in every life there is hidden the death; happy and sorrow- the twin name of one life; we have to accept everything to overcome perfectly; great poem penned; I enjoyed
    Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Dr Tony Brahmin 9/24/2020 10:52:00 PM

    I even hear the mountains
    the way they laugh
    up and down their blue sides
    and down in the water
    the fish cry
    a fine poem, and imagination. tony
    Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Savita Tyagi 9/24/2020 8:03:00 PM

    The poem started on a happy note, sinks into sadness and seems to end with a practical view of life. Like the whole life surmised in a small poem. Excellent. Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Kumarmani Mahakul 9/24/2020 4:38:00 PM

    This is a beautiful poem on life and nature having amusing expression. Thanks and congratulations for being chosen this poem as the modern poem of the poem of the day. Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Lyn Paul 9/24/2020 4:19:00 PM

    A suited title to a thought provoking poem with an amazing last stanza. Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • L Milton Hankins 9/24/2020 10:19:00 AM

    A tremendously expressive verse about grief. Thanks so much, Mr. Bukowski. Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Deluke Muwanigwa 9/24/2020 3:04:00 AM

    Great poem. In empathy lies the human spirit. Your sorrow be my sorrow tomorrow will borrow your sorrow and we move together in sympathetic harmony. Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • M Asim Nehal 10/2/2015 2:16:00 PM

    Amusing poem, he was a serious poet...........a relationship master and a perfectionist. Reply

    3 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Raymond Farrell 4/12/2015 9:44:00 PM

    I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead. Wow, that last line blows me away. Reply

    5 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
Read all 19 comments »
Grief Poems
  1. 1. Consummation Of Grief
    Charles Bukowski
  2. 2. "How Great My Grief" (Triolet)
    Thomas Hardy
  3. 3. ! A Grief Ago
    Michael Shepherd
  4. 4. A Grief Ago
    Dylan Thomas
  5. 5. Talking To Grief
    Denise Levertov
  6. 6. As Imperceptibly As Grief
    Emily Dickinson
  7. 7. Grief
    Elizabeth Barrett Browning
  8. 8. Circe's Grief
    Louise Gluck
  9. 9. [03] Grief
    Ashraful Musaddeq
  10. 10. Grief Thief Of Time
    Dylan Thomas
  11. 11. If Grief For Grief Can Touch Thee
    Emily Jane Brontë
  12. 12. I Measure Every Grief I Meet (561)
    Emily Dickinson
  13. 13. Sonnet 42: That Thou Hast Her, It Is Not..
    William Shakespeare
  14. 14. Sounds Of Grief
    Sappho
  15. 15. Grief
    George Herbert
  16. 16. The Right To Grief
    Carl Sandburg
  17. 17. Your Grief....
    Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
  18. 18. Brooding Grief
    David Herbert Lawrence
  19. 19. I'Ve Learnt To Laugh In Grief
    Aftab Alam
  20. 20. Love And Grief
    Paul Laurence Dunbar
  21. 21. . Grief Is
    Adeline Foster
  22. 22. A Poor Wayfaring Man Of Grief
    James Montgomery
  23. 23. Grief
    Stephanie J. DeMartino
  24. 24. Your Grief....
    Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
  25. 25. This Feeling Called Grief
    Paul Vincent Brown
  26. 26. Maternal Grief
    William Wordsworth
  27. 27. ' ' ' ' ' ' Grief...No Flowers
    Dónall Dempsey
  28. 28. Grief
    Susan Alldred Lugton
  29. 29. Frozen Grief
    Valsa George
  30. 30. God's Grief
    Robert William Service
  31. 31. I Can Wade Grief
    Emily Dickinson
  32. 32. Grief
    Caitlin (a dead poet) no lon ..
  33. 33. The Lesson Of Grief
    George Meredith
  34. 34. #(Buddha) 24 Yashodhara's Grief
    Rajaram Ramachandran
  35. 35. 3 Stages Of Grief
    Bridgid Patrick
  36. 36. Grief
    Edith Wharton
  37. 37. Time And Grief
    William Lisle Bowles
  38. 38. The Heart Of Grief
    Edith Nesbit
  39. 39. Grief Is A Mouse
    Emily Dickinson
  40. 40. When Hannah Pressed With Grief
    John Newton
  41. 41. A Wife's Grief Because Of Her Husband's ..
    Confucius
  42. 42. He Was Acquainted With Grief
    Jones Very
  43. 43. My Grief On The Sea
    Douglas Hyde
  44. 44. To One In Grief
    Katharine Tynan
  45. 45. Children Of Grief
    Lillian Susan Thomas
  46. 46. 'Tis Good&Mdash;The Looking Back On Grief
    Emily Dickinson
  47. 47. Eternal Grief
    Adeline Foster
  48. 48. In Time Of Grief
    Lizette Woodworth Reese
  49. 49. * Grief News From Mr. I..
    Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
  50. 50. Sonnet 94: Grief Find The Words
    Sir Philip Sidney

Grief Poems

  1. Talking To Grief

    Ah, Grief, I should not treat you like a homeless dog who comes to the back door for a crust, for a meatless bone. I should trust you. I should coax you into the house and give you your own corner, a worn mat to lie on, your own water dish. You think I don't know you've been living under my porch. You long for your real place to be readied before winter comes. You need your name, your collar and tag. You need the right to warn off intruders, to consider my house your own and me your person and yourself my own dog.

  2. "How Great My Grief" (Triolet)

    How great my grief, my joys how few, Since first it was my fate to know thee! - Have the slow years not brought to view How great my grief, my joys how few, Nor memory shaped old times anew,    Nor loving-kindness helped to show thee How great my grief, my joys how few,    Since first it was my fate to know thee?

  3. ! A Grief Ago

    'There is no grief which time does not lessen or soften' - so said Cicero, a man so often right; a Stoic, those for whom all life presents a lesson to be learned from, and then, to move on from.. But I wonder about all this: is grief ever lessened or softened? Is it not, perhaps, overlaid in our so various ways? For some, grief framed and falsified to ease that grief; For some, like hyacinths and crocus bulbs, left in a dark cupboard in the autumn of our grief to respond to time, and become at last themselves? gently, gently, the covers pulled over the loving bed, the true, the pure, the lovely painful grief, the memory deep cherished, gently, gently, folded into the cupboards of the heart there to be known, without the door disturbed until the time - 'a grief ago' as Dylan wrote - the cupboard opened only for love's sake without grief...: those carefully folded memories brought out and loved and lived a while... not grief, not grief...but the pure memory of grief and behold, life.

  4. A Grief Ago

    A grief ago, She who was who I hold, the fats and the flower, Or, water-lammed, from the scythe-sided thorn, Hell wind and sea, A stem cementing, wrestled up the tower, Rose maid and male, Or, master venus, through the paddler's bowl Sailed up the sun; Who is my grief, A chrysalis unwrinkling on the iron, Wrenched by my fingerman, the leaden bud Shot through the leaf, Was who was folded on the rod the aaron Road east to plague, The horn and ball of water on the frog Housed in the side. And she who lies, Like exodus a chapter from the garden, Brand of the lily's anger on her ring, Tugged through the days Her ropes of heritage, the wars of pardon, On field and sand The twelve triangles of the cherub wind Engraving going. Who then is she, She holding me? The people's sea drives on her, Drives out the father from the caesared camp; The dens of shape Shape all her whelps with the long voice of water, That she I have, The country-handed grave boxed into love, Rise before dark. The night is near, A nitric shape that leaps her, time and acid; I tell her this: before the suncock cast Her bone to fire, Let her inhale her dead, through seed and solid Draw in their seas, So cross her hand with their grave gipsy eyes, And close her fist.