Aftermath poems bring the best collection of short and long aftermath poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great aftermath rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these aftermath poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on aftermath are here for you.
We live, we learn, We love, we care. In the process of learning, We make mistakes again and again. But then from these mistakes we learn again. In the journey of life, we fall, But then we rise Even if
Unfettered for a little while, I was catching the sleep visitor. It hurts when the dream ends and a poem starts. An eucalyptus, drinking lots of water, throwing the aroma incensing the air, I pick up the fallen seeds of
Tell me not to turn the page… it’s the distress that made me strong, it’s the distance that taught me to long. It’s the lies that taught me to nurture the truth, it’s the exploitation that gave me the courage
Their gossip is a debauched addiction, Aided by an imagination, so absurd… The borders amid actuality and fiction; Whizzes away, swift as an agile bird! They are uncaring for infliction caused, Or for the aftermath of tears and turmoil… For
You were broken down and I was bitter trying to find the answers but I still remained a sinner your pain was my game my mistakes were the chains sticking to your heart tighter than the veins I scream I
Divide & rule is a common act in our nations, They say politics is a dirt game, though every day we experience politics, Allocation of resources been major politics, It’s a horrifying reality but we have politicians & voters, Lisa
Freedom an aftermath of martyrdom,a mark of remembrance, A status of solace to be free from heartrending surveillance. But, Jasmine, the fallen pleasure on the road dust Stares at me with a plea to lift her tenderly, To save her
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.
An Ariana Grande concert was struck by an explosion in northern England on 22nd May 2017 killing at least 22 people and injuring many there was a massive flash and then a bang and smoke all around hundreds of people
After the weep there was blankness, then he started playing with fire for existence, of a rain which refused to shower. It was a fierce night of a hidden drought. A lethal dose of amnesia dissipates the calmness of a
I took a good few Viscous glugs, that Night. My mother’s breakdown Was getting to me and My pity was destroying Me from the intestines, up. Couldn’t be Christian guilt, Surely? But I felt good again – Her wringing hands
Beauty, beauty and beauty, This is all what she say; Her trees dance, dance the plants The birds are gay. Her people roam all about Working all the day; They rest at night and never fight, And peace is what
Light of illumination filled the tiny vortex of my mind A world colored river earth cloud and storm Forestry crosswinds and fire Ah natural madness beautiful madness A sweet perfect chaotic choir So I can drown snug in a sublime
Walking on the streets nearby, a small pussy, I saw, Mewing, as abandoned, alone and aloof, so sad, Thirsty and hungry, I felt the need of saving and serving And took it home, to be blamed by my wife, as
hear my manifesto, dear heart in meditation from late morning bleeding larded beads of sweat a recluse’s hideaway a mobile home sealed against weather drum tight baking in the Florida sun cross legged on the cheap rag mat so thoroughly
Since all it began and people learnt; Since man got his name And gained all those earthly fame- The same history has been repeated again and again- Both good and bad; both hard and rapt; The blood, the blood- sometimes
One’s existence was threatened by the overseeing iguana like crested disguise. Repressive, explosive eyes. You are trapped in words beneath bewitching smile. The ‘V’ sign for violence becomes more obvious. That hits you in face. The eastern wind is blowing.
I was on the road to revolution; when I met- The childless mother beating her chest in sorrow, the widow shredding tears of solitude, The motherless child crying for company, the father who had lost his son… For the road
In late Spring when heros scream A source of sophistication from faint misery Inside the thwart hidden silence of the pivotal solace of my mind With mind blowing excursion toward the legally blind inside Woods in growing habitation & silence
Written by: Mario Vitale Shades of pine grafted in again resign Shattered pine in elm certain grove alone My meadow had a thorn certain credit The factual harm of its heartless swarm Featured within in the created design with pine
The Cyclonic storm creates havoc on land The turmoils in life wreck havoc in mind The cyclonic storm floods the land with waters The turmoils in life disturbs the mind with tears The cyclonic storm uproots trees and objects The
‘She smiles sweetly, like morning light As gentle winds and radiant sun Cast fragrance on this day of bright Her cheerful eyes so full of fun Like drifting leaf on starry night A pleasing sight to everyone Her graceful charm
I now see sadness on the pristine sand, In faded footprints, you have failed to make, More so that sands were once huge rocks, so grand, Before their fate, that only sands could take: To be the dunes, where dwell
The innocent and lovely creatures are crying, crying bitterly every moment, For their beauty is their curse; One can not listen to the cry, As it is disgracefully buried by the devils in the inaccessible depth of the secret world,
With a sinking heart he compiled All the memories that are scattered behind He resigned from his past and assign himself for the mankind Jogging on the road of prosperity and snoop in the ways of wind It was just
I have been on this lane before, I have seen the disdain and more, I have known this dark alley These dark labyrinths, The stark deserted streets, I was that lonely lark Looming high upon the street, The street of
Just an observation, To the moment close by; Your eyes sneaking out of window, But mine are stuck to thy. A strange feeling, Afraid, don’t know how to make a move; Waiting to get a glimpse of your Ming, Just
On a wrinkled trajectory the blood averts to abstract remission, I am out of place in time and history. Try to nudge the jumping ants with their cyberweapons ready to strike the antique nectaries of judgements. The predators were coming.