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.
A preacher was shedding dirty tears for burning hills. Pinned up on tongue was a slogan. Death for all sunflowers. Draped in blood who was trespassing the sickle moon? I cannot raise the mist where you stand naked in sunlight.
Don’t you agree with my ability to loosen up on our times in no night? A river thing was flowing through foliaged silence. In deranged hour of the neck tie, you throw up obscenity on road. What? Chicken hearted? Sickle
Moon stepped gingerly on clouds. Apples were painless. Yes, centrifugal goes the truth on a ploy, unveiling the sky. Pain of the dreaded times, was visible through the invisible. Tremors in the mountain range were palpable passing through the spine
Unimpeachable, the shrine wants to move on with snippets of pain. Man has failed the god. Teats were becoming omnivorous devouring the faces, ears and eyes. What would you like to eat stings or thorns? The curt bruises. Are you
Motionless within the ambit of moon, the rain squirms and flickers under the street light in the vacuous silence of a monolith. A cricket walks on a cloud and starts the lightning. The urn was blind, fills up with grief.
Like a snowfox it stampedes. A mass panic of legs after the flame festival. Language moves like a landslide, without vocabulary. A love sperm will not go into the test tube. Baby was waiting, looking for mother. The wetland was
The absent moon in a tea cup without milk. Lips reaching moon like a reprimand. A spider’s kiss. Unmothered story, contempt untitled: Surface-tension. The speed of space in motion like winter smoke. The sun buried the snow in your eyes.
I was a non-believer in exodus of nothingness. Here you are, I am. In crimson sky talking of nobody, unbuttoning the moon. Fill up my glass with tears of joy. And sleep I must in the arms of sorrow. There
Can you freeze the years? Untrammeled mind? Why lost in consoles, for hurting odyssey? Why we did not meet in unhearing range? Like the grassy lips of silken stings? A moon? behind us the war machine was walking. Sunflowers had
An insider was asking: this was a very troubling question. Why a culture becomes sick, burns the book, and beheads a god? Forgive my loincloth. This century was becoming very hot till the nose bleeds and fills the cauldron of
A hand without fingers draws a self-portrait. Faceless, only eyes glaring like bucketfull of burning coals. Was it not enough to call ‘wolf’. The pain scorches the compound where the blood of innocent flowed because somebody was burning woods. The
Still talking to a ghost in oblique manner about sexuality. A centuary plant has not bloomed; wants to die. The loincloth covers the ocean floor where it shipwrecked. A fake will do. God was on dialysis. Chemistry of kiss did
The world has shrunk. Have sex in half-black bipartisan calculations. Ripping apart, no body was naked inside the costume. I was too wakeful under the ventilator. They were killing me methodically. It was theatrical. White gowns and blue gowns. Only
Layer by layer, a pterygium was removed to improve the vision. Eyes did not blink. The words did not come on your tongue. You learned to become a stranger. A cemetery woke up tonight. No body was going to put
A black hole detonates itself to stigmatize the substance. Now a silk road leads to sight and touch. A scarecrow starts screaming. Sky was falling on fire. The space becomes deviant. Chopped hands were drawing the tattoos of winged feet.
Pieces of day falling like severed limbs of time. Acoustic shadows drinking the pain. Exodus has started of thoughts to find an enabler, for misting voices of indecisiveness. Obscene contour abrupts the ink. Now there is blank depression, behind the
After a grand design there was a white leap to find a boat in darkness. Time was dusting the frame of memory, and the age will grieve for the lost vision. The pace of assaults will increase over the burning
Graveyard of stillbirths. I am walking on severed legs. She was pushed off a moving train. Could not be raped. No I don’t see any sickly aberration. It was ossification of stunted intellect. Who was desperate to exit the hazy
Was busy carving out the white clouds like stanzas, unflawed. Now I begin to fall apart. No meaning was left in a drink. You could see only your image drowning in a scented charity. At last I am watching myself.
Standing in a milk line you were talking of depravity, of blood lines and the breast enhancement. A teenage fringe bomber wants to sew the civil society and explodes himself before the empty bakery. A young gal throws her son
Put off the lantern. I am waiting for the moon’s primal face. The lesser flamingoes were going to shed the pink color. Nude as a python, the kiss of pomegranates, kills by asphyxiation. I suffer in the hands of protests.
While drinking the long night you became taller than the eternal question, bitten by the moon. Witchhunting will not stop in oligarchy. A human right stands on the ivory gate to enter the dust. The weightlessness is paraded nude amongst
Living in a cyst, it would explore the breast. The black ethics goes beyond the bounds of mystique of non-movement. A while away a conflict comes out of the body. Melts into a face. There is no flesh, no skin.
Sometimes the ice burns, a fish moves in your eyes. The ubiquity was at lowest level, nothing was visible in sun. Mission crawl in the crotch does not find any fever. The golden cave has caved in. Moon will find
What was about this face? Between mirage and actuality? A fireball was coming towards you. You upturn the underside, wanted to taste the blood and get argasm. The statues were posing nude. Mothers were clad in leaves. Fruits were the
I have agreed to cede an unwritten moon in a killing frenzy, for a chequered spirituality. Now visitation will start ravishing the light at dawn. The grievers will assemble for a final scoop of dust. Forgive my star, for a
Looking around for a loop of light, a captive throws out his trove of litter and ask for a right to be killed. This was question hour of your conscience. Who would now act as on executioner? Anybody who has