Aback poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of aback poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on aback are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
They say; You know how to write. We just don’t have time for you. You know what, This is going to be painful. It’s never our intention to hurt anyone. The thing is, You seem quiet, arrogant. We’re unsure if
Like every morning, he has just returned from his office and is right in-front of one of his roommate and so called friend’s lappy’; Going through all previous messages sent by her on Facebook. No doubt, his life has been
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
You lean against the fourth wall, To observe the darker three. It is hollow in the ground, You find nothing to rest your hand upon, So you place a rough white sheet. You try it flimsy. Because the colours would
From farthest East, or more precise The forests vast on India’s breast, Rose hymns of wisdom that never dies, The words of knowledge, forever best. Those hymns were born from wisest hearts, As throats would trill in sombre shades; They
…and we sat with drenched feet Beautiful indeed an emotion silent and calm, yet blasted with a flush of happiness, Sat together sharing the air and the soil, love and smiles were no less, Embraced us the lint and shine
They were fated to face that minor road mishap The vehicle got tripped due to use of sudden brake It was August 1997, when my parents traveled by that cab Ignoring evil Oman earlier, my father left home without shake
Starting my day with your smile Sigh! I am now all left with fright and bile Sauntering on street last night requesting God to send you back in this lifetime Suddenly I was taken aback in time Sweet was your
Concrete beneath your feet as you blaze your trail along the road to your grave; covered in blood and tears shadowed by gray smoke heaving light upon your pain At the fork between the tines the crow sits watching Wings
Slither into my skin, Draped in this night absorbing the mist, tasting my sweat and blood and painting your face in my wetness! While crossing the road to the sun You can’t leave my lusty fiddles kissing your bewitched lips…
There is no nothingness. imagine a team of scientists building an absolute vacuum inside a tiny metal box, the others alternating, a matryoshka doll vacuum, box, vacuum a terrible candy to offer a giant sure to raise the wrath of
A misbelief breaks into rags. Still I dream of some gods on black pages piecing together the words of light. The rains come in the cage of tears, voicelessly. Striated muscles of splintered faith go to cramps birthing the avatar
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.
Silence It’s only when they can’t see, That’s when the tears runs heavy. In the silence i make no sound Though everyone is around. It’s goes on for hours into the next day And the tears still flow anyway I
I am afraid of my incompleteness! The part of me, which is still human, Is afraid of the dark loneliness. Is afraid of the lofty dilemmas Of life, love and death. Relationships, lust and their worth. I am the Hamlet
My violet pastel pencil came to a rest after sketching the outline of the natural pond fringed with bamboo, palms, and exotic tropical foliage reflected in the mirrored waters. Standing before the easel I couldn’t get my eyes off the
Down memory lane I traveled, at the first corner of endless street I met almond eyes dimpled cheeks silk soft tresses My First Poem –She!! further down at the second corner nostalgic charm lyrical beauty simple smile My Second Poem
Her songs of love are just as what were known, None saw her eyes bespeak enthrallment felt Exuding from within as sparks have shown, That lent a warmth by which all cares can melt; As sensual marks her ways upon
A solitary word…. A single solitary word That defines the space liveth from birth to death It traverses from alpha to the end And it states the state of being good,bad or worthless and it all ends with maybe The
Staring not so intently into an enigmatic void Oblivious to environs & of prospects devoid None of exultant joy even misery too amiss Suspended in a limbo between gloom & bliss Each of effort laboring however much slight Most of
For honour killing twilight adulates an abstract faith. Tainted? Now that mouth was shut and butterfly was pinned, will you grow the marigolds? The empty book was not breathing in a crowd of words. The bitter meaning had flown away.
Bright Rays from you ..Still Touch us like that from the Sun, In midst of life’s fierce Run, You held my hand ,when even my fingers stank and sored Wish of Building a Castle..yet my paper dreams were erased and
from known to known fear moves in a circle, like a cheetah; a jounery starts from shivers to shivers – when it was pouring the taste of sting ascending loosening beside between the lips a word strieks, terror spills from
I walk down the bridge Whispering to my restless mind About your last night’s talk And those unfeeling hands of innocence The night eglantine smiles In its usual way At my timid inexpressive desire And the love filled eyes of
They sit on high chairs Where they wear most expensive clothes Their shoes were pointed and shining They speak like parrots and walk like peacocks They made promises which they will never fulfil They live in a hell of paradise
Sterling November and I can feel the winds of change Now in the shadow of the moons’ bright light Well we may not have it all together but together we Have it all, somehow that gives me hope Wagon half
Times are fast flowing taking away that Precious bit of prudence we held so close to soothe A strung up nerve from letting loose. Today, imagine Getting caught At the cross wire of a Boy of ten frail years Asking
sometime I watch the fear held aloft by you, possessed, you try to protect yourself from you in vain, very thirsty, white hydrangeas on your lips tremble, exhaust their need for clouds in blue eyes, pale fountain gives up tumult
Your cheeks, in red ochre rouged In dimples, the scarab dew slurps Eyes and teeth, a white flash sleight Stretch marks, varicose crossed, like The Anaconda’s swallowing strains. Your life restless, the nose suffocates Dawn disrupts as the feathers ruffled.
My second chance is bristling in a fire but you were here you could have changed the conversation, you could have given me your touch, but it dissolved into yesterday, and a furnace I’m a dead man, heart locked away
Your presence – dear God – it’s intoxicating. It interrupts my daily thought process. It leaves me in a never ending, head scrambling, mental chaos. I can’t remember right from left. Or distinguish the difference between white and black. And
A Colored Moon// By: Fareed Ghanem (1) A moon is red in three moods: When the ladies of high society kiss windows and walk out without lipstick, or; When white color is called red, or; When roses bloom in your