The mere word has a rhythm to it. Poem is a verbal composition in which the expression of feelings and ideas are intensified with the help of diction (sometimes involving rhyme), rhythm, and imagery. Poems are classified into various sections, some of which are included in the sub-categories here. Poems are usually designed to convey experiences, ideas, or emotions in a vivid and imaginative way, by the use of language chosen for its sound and suggestive power and by the use of literary techniques such as meter, metaphor, and rhyme. Hope you enjoy every poem you read at HighOnPoems.
The melody of the poet for the soul to please, with its chords of truth in spoken breeze. There can be no freedom which is attached by the ego’s ear, no serenade’s art and temporary clear. One must smite the
A silence on the night. The day fluttered quietly in whisper soft resonance, So many colours slowly dying Like confetti in the rain, And echoes touched each other, a reunion of themselves, As though they were astounded At their resonating
Sounds of the highway; so peaceful to me Warm cool breeze ; smell of the country air Mountain views; snow covered mountain peak Turkey’s talking; eating their feed loving the country Life; country air in the breeze. This is where
The moon was coming up in cross-dressing style from he to she. Smoking in pensive mood; itching to be ready for last farewell. The evil makes you feel good, to prove the unrestricted love between the two. A slight criticism
Half-living in your gaze a prisoner of messed― up life in a petri dish. Streaking in blood and salt your inoculation failed. Now a missed abortion, takes place. You cannot defend your freedom, before the ruthless destiny. The courage versus
I’m alone in my room Wondering where I went wrong Mind is cloudy My thoughts are uncontrollable But who can you call When the depression hits And the pink pills cant drown your sorrows away No One I’m alone in
Like each dropp of your humbleness engulfing my urbanite woes; the graffiti emerges in tender grace to resurrect a windmill. My spirit, the abode of small birds carrying the sunset on its back was returning home for the final- sleep
Lips of clay tend to bleed my kisses. And the distant moon treads softly on the spent passion. A private crimson blunts the whiteness of moon. The birds- step out from the fog. Last moments – of the bell to
Staples were traveling on the epiderm, thanking the wounds. The dust, the eternal ugliness were growling. Riveting drama: a royal swanking for a macabre heist. A bizarre charisma overtakes the cozy lips. I was green, and I was a cloud
You were starving the words to commit the waves of hunger. What I wanted was a patch of shade under an olive grove. No intrusion. It was a miscarriage of justice. We were searching the – missing links between the
The path disappears under the foot. Gently I lay down the book and start reading the blank page. Stainless thoughts.I strip to root. A stunning revelation about a tinned dialogue. Blue hydrangeas were telling something. It was time to become
Abdicating the shadows; totemic. I return back to dig up the buried- moon from the ruins of poetry. It benumbs. No response was coming from cajoling the black secrets- of time-cast. A storm was raging in a pack of emptiness.
A monster from a tree jumps and runs around the bushes to mate. A blank statement is issued. The system groans and collective pshyche fails. A stark silence for the food for thoughts. I sit down to meditate- to find
Nothing was beholden. Colony counts were perfect. You were never guaranteed and exit. I am stalked by lips of a black tulip holding a moonbeam. The world moves wearing a shell of emptiness in a cosmos, inviolable. Aggrandizement beyond the
Like a butterfly pinned in a collage, fluttering. Death makes a deal. I was appalled standing on the edge watching the withering body. The lake drowns me. Seagulls were waiting for a renaissance. It is not even midsummer. The planting
The secular love: you are contaminated between skin and prayer. Back from the odyssey finding a crop-circle in bridal chamber. Rival was an alien with a flat stomach thinking black. The thieving sperms had a glorious end, unentered in grass.
When I was arranging daffodils you send in tanks. The sky was overcast. When I was talking to clouds Fireballs are delivered. That signals the specific gravity is shifting to knobs. The artist was going to disappear. I think of
By the moon I drink you again. The night is trembling; ruffles the colossal tears. The terrible ache of the illegitimate mercy. I am not accepting any poem half-dead under my pen. The invisible force, bribing the tears was a
In your domain walking with men of straw to immolate myself. If power was sacred why you did not stop the reversing of gender role? Oh, there was water on Mars streaking like the tears on your face. The apes
Drunk with pride the streets are bursting in self-indulgence. Who was calling the shots? Do you know the words between intermissions, carry a secret- till the brazen scoop finds the hidden meaning. It was grave very grave truice, unmaking love
The moral dilemma was unlearning. less than truth. Downgrading the- branded witch. Vaccine was spawning new virus. O Buddha, why did you started looking beautiful and began sitting in a living room? Trailing the smoke I was going to find
Spooked by a two headed snake, a double of a living person squirms. A moral crisis comes out of a cage. The private space is violated and bloodbath of robins start- to understand the unrest. Antimatter will keep the mystery
In culture of counterfeits a snip of intelligent gene brings the pink tears for the brown eyes. A virgin goes for a spade in the naked sun. Let me think of polymorphism. Can there be an answer- for oblique questions?
Sitting between the knees, I am being bathed by intense anxiety and fear of harsh light. A canopy of doubts confronts the dignity versus anarchy for a watchman who will not dare open- the vault of truth. A fatal ire
A pithy moon climbs on a skull to unmask the alien, blacker than coal. A pregnancy reduction was needed to prune out the motor plan of the moving target, who had- a neural circuitry for obstructing the light. Can you