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.
It consumes everything that ever was It was there from the start, will be there till the end. No one has escaped the wrath it brings, no body escapes the jaws of time. Bitter, sweet, vengeful, whatever you have been
Please promise not forever, not tonight, Remind me not a thing from yesterday, Today has joys for us both to delight, And places where we will feel best to be; So pledge me not the future yet to come, Nor
We clear up lands of forest primeval Only to plant new ones for survival; Leaders scheme to modernize their nation Others hold back, crying conservation; Settlers would get land appropriations While natives move into reservations; We dig canals, but cover
I stare at the bride demure and dainty in her virginal veil. Lift my eyes a little to see her shed her modesty. Lusciously coquettish , an exotic eroticism as she sways to the rhythm of a wild vernal beat.
I wake up to cobble stone steps, And the smell of decadent crepes! Next thing I know, I’m sipping Chardonnay, While the harmonica in the background, plays. I’m cycling through fields of sun-kissed vines, With picturesque views, I’m cheerily entwined.
Innocent dream he was, untouched by the pain Happy like a child he flew once People slapped, some bullied, But with his magnificent innocence he smiled His heart pained… A day came, hell of a day it was, This boy
Dear son, with your world surrounded by arms and guns, There rests this plight, to see her son alive with her eyes, just once. Sacrificing for country is your job and your pride, My pride is you my son. Wherever
Just like a Bonsai you stand strong and tall, Despite being just five feet tall. You rise high and refuse to yield, In rain and stormy weather, offering the best shield. You let us blossom and fruit, Ensuring we stay
A man cursed, can never bring happiness, a man condemned can never bring justice, whatever he touches, will turn to dust, whatever he makes will rot. whatever he desires, will never be his, whatever he loves, will get condemned too…
Columbus got blamed for it all Thinking that India is where he landed The people, “Indians” he would call Error to another added As still it has been so Since centuries ago. What if to Mars I would then sail
She is that girl you always meet, As you walk down a busy street; That office girl across the hall, Or someone’s partner at a ball; That dearest love now in your arms, Or song diva with haughty charms, Covered
I saw the sun rise from the east today In splendor wore a shining garment red. And quietly from behind hills of grey Emerged, like limbs, his boundless wings outspread With swaying roar, would stretch them more and more Remembering
Hidden deep into the stack of memories was my diary, a small pocket book not the usual bulky planner. Yesterday, I stumbled upon it, as I lay on grass and it lay somewhere there, dusting for many a year, waiting
The Dark nights The Dimming lights The Owls hoots The Sound of boots The Wishes await The Stares at the gate The Chilling breeze The Dangling keys… The Empty chair The Hopes in despair The Lonely dawn The Joys withdrawn
The forensic experts came this morning With their dusters, blades and little poly bags They searched what was left of his heart And found traces of sympathy Carelessly scattered around its chambers By the sweet maid Who made his bed
What rules the lives of men: beggars and kings, And those between, that unseats or installs, That crowns, exiles, or that sweetens or stings, While Fate has claimed the risings and the falls? Had all outcomes been rigged for loves
I’m stuck with mixed feelings, All the layers of emotion peeling, I ought to be happy and glad, Instead it’s bittersweet with more sad, I miss my best friend – my dad! It’s always the happy times, That are filled
The ocean breeze blew through my hair On it, a hint of magnolias Or was that the incense you were burning At the altar of your daily prayer Filled my lungs with the dusks’ freshness The dance of the chimes
At the border of a church marked by shame and seclusion Stood a man on the throat of reason Glorious treason conducted By the song birds of compassion Held the man in their mirth of delusion The cold pulpit floor
A faint knock on the door again reminiscent of old demons old dilemmas that die hard enticing me to the unknown, once again uncharted terrain with entrapment for life trying to re-define, re-invent what all take for granted why does
When shoulders are in dearth whereby to cry, And frozen tears would stab with loneliness, A smile I dare that unto heaven try, For wish, my prayer speaks with holiness; The dirge that grieving lips would sadly sing, On hollow