Achievement poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of achievement poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on achievement are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
“HASAN MUSTAFA” my Sweet Valentine You always glitter you always shine Allah may shower bounties on you Always adopt the way that is true you abstain from that what is bad That is natural in you to never be sad
As I descended on this Earth, You were the first male face I knew after my birth. You nurtured me with your deep insights….. Though, I gave You troubled times and sleepless nights At times, when You straightened me, I
Where death and exotica meet, life stands naked in midst of our sacred hymns, Shadow fighting is not actuality. An essay on truth fades. Someday I will pull down the curtain. At the end of the road, death waits, apologizing
My daughter’s face appearing in charcoal, her sunshine smile bursting from the black. Creativity soothes me like a drug, anticipating the heartfelt thanks I do not deserve. I will seem special, a façade, a falsehood, a temporary reprieve. The heightened
I, the most perfect syllable in the world. It encapsulates me and all that is mine And all that I perceive or have perceived, All that I encountered or experienced, the Totality of my existence and its meaning To me
I look through my window and like what I see Clear blue sky soaring high above me The air so fresh and a pleasure to breathe Fluffy white clouds made of what you believe Beneath the canopy of life-giving wonder
She does not see herself as the matriarch, but age and wisdom dictate that no-one is more deserving. Since his demise she has stood alone at the head, guiding with sage counsel and devotion. Loved and revered by those who
About the book: This is a selection of poetry about solitude and other obsessions that have distracted, driven, destroyed and / or defined us. Spanning genres, styles, emotions, time & place, these works by a collective of 5 poets are
I am not too well, he felt. The flames chased him in charred landscape. Fighting over, he pondered about the crime within, the surge to find a nest hole. A wounded pride where the salmonella hits. You enter a slot
I knew my heart had been set alight with passion, that memorable day I cast my very eyes on thee. Your slightest rebuff to my endless advances would pose a more formidable challenge to me than Europe’s invincible, combined vast
I am a creation of yours, taken after you with the same traits and a unique hue, do not have demand, do not have desire but only a need, your little time and attention, indeed. Acknowledged with the labour you
Your insistence to become something, to overstay existence was not fair. On a row of white shrouds – holding innocent beings, death was walking barefoot, crying. Between farewell and stupidity, staccato, shooting questions to life. What was the need for
A path that exists between birth and death, this life is never straight. Every time you need to confront obstacles, even if you have already fought many battles. The book of life contains both happy and sad memories, and it
Rhythm and Rhyme reach the Listener. Put him behind bars and begin to beat. Thoughts of escape, a tortured prisoner, he resists and is met by quick defeat. Possessed by Flow, with no exorcism, he is stabbed with a double
let it be yourself, the brightest of the sunshine that will become, survive, fair to friends and foes, the one and all,sharing the same world. in time of the disaster, the mind for good and the assistance, the nobility of
BEGONE ERA Memories of Childhood are like a shining diamond in the chain of events Children of different era have different set of memories Tested and cherished children’s games of one particular era are sure to supercede games of the
I guess it is never late to live where I am, For the past has left me grieving alone, Future is unforeseen showing fresh and green, For none of them appear here, where I am. Past memories linger grieving, Was
Path taken, not the end, End taken, not a real road to travel, The path taken, not the best, Change the path, again, Darkness rings the bell again, The light from the lighthouse missing again, The caravan goes again, Path
The seizure, volatile it was, the way to tell, for the things he did not want to say. You suffer silently. Coming to boiling point, for the starkness of the torture. The abridged wholeness was empty. Only howling remained. Can
Hope and dreams Fill Schemes. Slippery as soap Both dreams and hope. My dreams have seen The things that might have been. The sweat it seems Is a part of my dreams. I sit by the streams With moonlight dreams.
My most noticeable expression I don’t know what it’s caused by Maybe it’s because people lie Could it be that nobody cares Or is it from all of these cuts and tears All of this depression makes me feel so
We often wear the masks to hide, To fit in more, to better survive. Hide behind the complicated smiles, Confident, no one would catch our lies. Nothing seems a bit real now, Even the shadow now takes a bow. We
Have you ever spent some of your time gazing at an alpine meadow filled to overflowing will delicate wildflowers ? Notice the wild bees, and multicolored butterflies galore. These seasoned insects couldn’t ask for more! The essence and absolute beauty
So my absentism will prevail over presence; I will talk to you in space between the moments of autumn red when nothing else was moving. In classical pursuit, I straignten the equation and we understand the complexities of life, and
Such things are rare now: the smell of rain of preceding nights going stale. And the potted plants keep back the reek like memories as do their counterparts keep scarred holes— gaping blank like a blind eye— on the ageing
This path. This path glows with vibrant hues, Bathed in the morning glow and full of the most Stimulating fragrance. It leads and I follow, I care not where I go, for this road has me in the deepest entrancement.
Blender of black and white together, extremities, that never wanna meet ever Now became an existence, have an exclusive type of resistance Are you able to find ? more is black or it’s white How can one keep forever, the
Everything we do has poetry embedded within it Like a stone yet unturned A picture of the sun that brightly burned The faces of young children as they strive to have learned Describe an emotion that you feel and have
Where the tide line of reality and dreams appear We stand. Uncertainty and reassurance walking hand in hand. Enjoying the kisses of the salty breeze, at the same time feeding the wind it’s flavour. Unable to indulge in our creation.
The sacred fire smoulders fast turning its witness false. the uncared hymns of the priest melt unnoticed in the fragrant smoke; the holy books keep silent and negotiations for metals and notes go on; they never observe the heart that