Best Poems Make You Cry

These poems are really painful, they might make you crying easily!

Poems Make You Cry: nice poem

Sticks, which stick to me
since I was a child
they hold me in
every walk of life..

they are the guide
they are the friend
they have been with me
everynow an then..

they shared my school life events
enjoyed with me, my graduation moments
they contributed over the path of my career
today they made me feel just like a warrior!

when crippled with emos, they help me withstand
from the dawn to desk, watching the sun rise n fall in sand
approaching the setting sun, i just crawled..
holding them tight in my arms..

LAMED.. I never like to be called!
make you cry

Barn Owl - make youcry
by Gwen Harwood

Daybreak: the household slept.
I rose, blessed by the sun.
A horny fiend, I crept
out with my father's gun.
Let him dream of a child
obedient, angel-mind-

old no-sayer, robbed of power
by sleep. I knew my prize
who swooped home at this hour
with day-light riddled eyes
to his place on a high beam
in our old stables, to dream

light's useless time away.
I stood, holding my breath,
in urine-scented hay,
master of life and death,
a wisp-haired judge whose law
would punish beak and claw.

My first shot struck. He swayed,
ruined, beating his only
wing, as I watched, afraid
by the fallen gun, a lonely
child who believed death clean
and final, not this obscene

bundle of stuff that dropped,
and dribbled through the loose straw
tangling in bowels, and hopped
blindly closer. I saw
those eyes that did not see
mirror my cruelty

while the wrecked thing that could
not bear the light nor hide
hobbled in its own blood.
My father reached my side,
gave me the fallen gun.
'End what you have begun.'

I fired. The blank eyes shone
once into mine, and slept.
I leaned my head upon
my father's arm, and wept,
owl blind in early sun
for what I had begun..

IN MEMORIAM, VII: also is poem that make you cry
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,

A hand that can be clasped no more---
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.

He is not here, but far away
The noise of life begins again
And ghastly through the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.

Other make you cry poetry:

poems that make you cry 1

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