Aids poems bring the best collection of short and long aids poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great aids rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these aids poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on aids are here for you.
AIDS-will you let me live? You will live, if you remain faithful to your spouse, you will live , if you avoid sexually depraved activities, you will live, if you leave morally permissive life, hedonist world, media, and society promote.
Sixties came and went, As the seventies rolled in I was born upon my mother’s breast Last of four kids, I was the baby of the family Seventies were filled of adventure, fun, and games Learning new faces and names
friends are someone.. who meet each other- to share joy and sorrow and celebrate happy moments together. here my friends-never I had the chance to see them face to face. we share a world made with the trust of god’s
Just say no to corrupt politicians, lying and cheating with their secret missions. Hugging the baby in the camera’s eye then stealing its lolly and watching it cry. Just say no to the corrupt EU, actually achieving what Hitler failed
We sure did love the lollipops, the cracker jacks, the Holloway candy sticks, the chocolate coated ice cream bars, and those tootsie rolls. We simply could not get enough of the pop sickles, the cool aids, and the soda pops.
I didn’t really notice her, to start with, A girl with too shaped hair and clothes beyond her years It wasn’t right, clearly not right Medieval in some respects An heir and a spare her task But a fairy-tale danced
I Wish Racism Would Die. I Wish It Would Go Away, Because Racism Is Like A Disease, And People Make It Stronger Everyday. Why Are People Hating Each Other, Because Of The Color Of Their Skin? To Me, Color Ain’t
It goes without saying; soon the cow barn will be full & men quite drunk, Women busy preparing to feed stomachs and give one of their own away, To who, doesn’t it matter? Old, too old or extremely old, a
Through all the rank smells of the city’s shore The ocean’s breath says ages of being. Dark blue depths, salty finned life, and much more, Shifting of arm hair aids my eyes seeing My ancestors rising out of the vast
The boys are bathing in the river, The scene I will forget never, They are jumping and playing in the water, It is a joy forever. Every moment the calm ripples are coming to them, They are breaking those in
I watch the world go by, From my position at its periphery, I ask each day, For a sign, a message, Something to turn the senseless into the meaningful. My thoughts turn inward, My being aches with the pain of
A motley group had made an affiliation of sorts It sprouted and mushroomed in our back lane And there was born a poetry club with no name Passion it was for the verses written in Urdu That linked them beyond
And my words won’t move you, Neither do I pretend to, To move some pound of flesh, Nor I care too. And these words would fight, Entangling within themselves, They would corrupt souls, And dwell upon a spell. They would
An ode to Bhimsen Joshi You sing to the earth, it’s minerals, it’s metals, it’s pure stones. You sing to the earth, it’s sand, the yellow sand, the red sand, it’s rivers of sorrow, the waves, the waves that no
Effervescent is the youth Making a merry recall Innocent is the child Seeking treasure in all Placid is the thought When I stare in oblivious Wind whispers tenderly Wet sand my feet caress Waves lash to and fro Making
How I see myself? I see myself in the…….. exalted waves of the sea, dark, rainy clouds of the sky, lightning of a storm, reverberations of thunders, cold, icy and gusty winds of the wintry days, silence of the mountains,
*Whoosh* Thoughts embedded into my psyche unravel, As I steadily make my way out past the unabating white water. The pure, crisp, salty air fills my nose, lungs, and heart. *Whoosh* I cast an earnest gaze onto the horizon, Awaiting
How ever Rich one is When health deteriorates wealth do really stink How ever Poor one is when health ‘gives in He has no option then to fight it out Wealthy may feel secured in Life But always feel insecured
Look my love is going away tell him to stop And make him stay, My eyes are shedding tears The clouds are bursting with fear The heart is bleeding with broken pieces, To make him bring near Look my love
A face unbeknownst – belying recognition, To create mighty buildings is his mission. With caring hands does he mix, The cement and mud that he spreads over the bricks. Over his head he carries, The stones brought from the quarries.
For God and mortals’ sake, Speak no more of Cogito ergo sum- Nor think what I think I become Nor what form I think I take. The mind is indivisibly amorphous! It has no visible or indivisible form; To invisible
(Certain meanings of hindi language words: Mantra: Hymn, Prayer Brahmin: A priest Kalyug: In Hindu mythology as a time of evil, decadence, and untruth; here used metaphorically, comparing our time to that of Kalyug. Srishti: The Universe abhaas: Intuitive feeling,
No, not died yet, Destruction, doesn’t mean death. Now, shine is more intense than before, Broken things have more edges than a whole one. Now, light is entering through cracks, Now, no need to be whole again. It will lead
Day of holding figure, To the day of touching their feet Not has changed Yesterday they taught us how to walk Today they taught us how to talk From the day of pampers To the day of manners From bringing
Were I decreed a free choice of fate, Insouciant orioles! We shall be one! Gold-tainted-black, early morn or late, I flit-flirt with you in the sun. No gravity of custom flags me down No laws forbid me to fly, flit
Like a sunrise Like a sunset Life is just an imagination We live the moment We remember the good ones, We try forgetting the sad ones As life begins, in the memories of others We die as the memories fade
allow me this privilege of seeing you in , the unlit room in a chilly night, alone and guiltless, as night unmask your face, assumed Venus in the cowl shawl, splendor on the door it would admit, the dream of
It is that time again for all we have lost to be regained and our weaknesses to be strengthened and bent choices to be straightened. Come join me, let us rejoice make your choice because life is what we make
That’s the coldest yet, the words on my father’s lips, each night from October to spring, as he stood at the back door shaking the East Belfast rain off his coat, and stamping the mud off his Shipyard boots, before