Addicts poems bring the best collection of short and long addicts poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great addicts rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these addicts poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on addicts are here for you.
The road to destination is wide & vague, Some get ahead, others lag behind, Other’s mission is to fail those ahead, Some find excuses to stay behind, Others are spectators, just watching the race, Others are oblivious to their status
We had a bountiful garden filled with sweet corn and peas We had tasted good vegetables before, but none so good as these In an area of south eastern wisconsin, just across the illinois state line We discovered a place
THE Man thought in the dark… of mass derailments of bank assailants of pleading beggars’ eyes of polished politicians’ lies of toxic chemical dumps of reclusive addicts’ slump of repulsive battle sounds of trampled sacred grounds THE Man thought in
You entered our landscape of suffering and suffered yourself for our sake You knew we were addicts recovering and trapped by our every mistake Our grief over goodness distorted would daily unsettle our souls And though we found routes to
The children were purpled at a very quick glance you could kid yourself they’d gotten into grape juice taken the blueberries out of the freezer had a fight with makeup of some kind they were just dead each lying on
Smile like you’ve never smiled, Dance forever till you are alive. May be this is the final call you’ll take, So love a little and take a break. Remember the day you were born, People lined up even to see
Have you tasted the silk in the pit of snakes? Exit was not in my fate. Winter was kissing my toes and spring was blooming down in my estranged poems. You don’t feel like to wake up for ingrained disbelief.
She started to shake inside. Felt sick with anger and distrust. Now that the culprit that broke her heart was back in town. The past memories where clouding his judgement. Neither do I care. As a far I am concerned
Two faces the world has, filled with pretensions, brimmed with affectations. It is difficult to discern fake or real A smile stuck on every lip; whether con or genuine – Arduous to fathom. A veil as if to hide the
On your dark face smile does not spread like a butterfly. Most reticent I had been, It was very difficult to give, and very painful to take. You wanted to be noticed, and I had a tryst with uncharted path.
This day of sixty fruitful weeks shadow pristine relics of bundled keepsakes adorned in obsolete gazettes of passing snow storms, puppy training and next door’s junk mail. Transition logs re-call six states, five military orders, four duty stations, six rusted
Time over time the shattered heart mended, awakening a possibility unknown Truth does not manipulate a shallow hope is shown… Time grew into a vine of sourness, prejudice coaxed the rot, prayers for retaining innocence… went hush ….like the silenced
If Hope is the thing with feathers, perhaps Life is that stony thing, that stony Enigma. If someday, somehow, somewhere, I catch some glimpses of what makes a heart, a stone, and what makes a stone, watery before someone dies…
I miss you in the vacuum that was once you. In the stillness of a cemetry afternoon. In the dinner table, with an empty seat. In family photographs, now incomplete. In my husband-to-be, In the grandchildren you did not see.
‘As the sun gently leave this desert plain With wistful silence in the twilight air And birds softly close their sweet refrain As they firmly rest in their evening lair In the depths of this cloudy terrain Where the skies
Well MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU from my house to yours, I pray it’s the best Christmas you could ever hope for but don’t forget it’s not all about the presents under the Christmas tree no it’s really more about the
The best dance will be praise. When my strength will finally be raised. Carrying out the heat and cold between fire and ice. Shallow expectations keep trembling as if someone is constantly rolling dice. Clueless as to what is supposed
Silent heat rose from the molten embers of a dying day, The grey asphalt lay sweating in the setting sun of scorching May. A drop falls hither; Eyelids quiver, A soggy breeze from the wild wet west Made my moist
You close your ears I’ll close my eyes Maybe we’ll make it through This life filled with lies No one’s to blame No need for shame Everyone knows this Is all just a game With your habits With my disposition
In caves of Arabian Desert Lived uncouth people, I assert, One thousand years ago, in seclusion, Within their savage legion. One wondered at the sandy hills Encompassed by vigorous rills, But friendly to those men were they; They loved to
Dead ones speak Martyr speaks More loudly than before With Echos every corner How fortunate they Treading path of Martyrdom Martyrdom to peace Harmony & Justice But- Shooters of martyrs Build society of hatred And martyrs crucified Generation after generation
They say poetry doesn’t pay , A hobby for slacker’s bay , Frost projected it as condition , Far from being called ‘ real profession’ . Advised to bring out the writer , Write pages, words , Ensure some monetary
I was not capable of contradicting the quietness. A silent emotion was insulting me. Forgetting the self-denial I went for choosing the impossible. Am I sick of myself? The agony overwhelms me with mystic relief. Here and now I feel
Momma! I am your poem. From that mountain hole Too many pains left And from the island of the vexation A little pleasure on the journey twinkle They made a missiles I was fabricated just below your heart And I am
A blank paper invites for rape. Snow sinks for a prelude. The black swan flies away for the quiet hills, when sun was drawing out the blood. Alone I will write a poem beneath the tear soaked eyes and then