Aim poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of aim poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on aim are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Your day starts with the Sunrise- Your day ends with the Sunset. Your dreams and hopes start by birth, And end in the grave yard. Days, Weeks, Months and Years- Pass swiftly- swiftly -by Your dreams and hopes increase day
Whirling discus thrower controlled precision, spinning presence concentrated energy coiled awareness for that one release Watcher sees and knows at the moment of letting go this one will be good same dynamic for shot putter, javelin thrower conscious complex actions
Standing in this windy night under the sky in its violet light screams of the wind, its sounds blowing everything whatever it found watching the flashes of the sky thunder lightening up so high seeing this climate change violent mode
When I was a young man I chased them by the score. They were fast, young and lean. Conquest was my aim, seduction was the game. Procreation, I was playing with biology’s rules. I cared very little about much more.
Swift entropic arrow of time, You illicit my poetic freedom! You vex me inside-out of rhythm, Outside-in of rhyme; You irreversible debacle And thermodynamic oracle, Too late I learn: in my present Wanes a future crescent! How like an even
Wake up in the morning with no stress,feeling love in excess even forgot my address forget all the bad of men with no regrets turn around on my bed touch my woman and compliment her nightdress touching her hips and
Heavens descended Agni, Varuna, Indra & Yama¹ lined up To witness a Swayamvar² Of a heart with a soul, A reunion on earth & a Meghdutam³ With a cloud as pen The universe as canvas Was asked to describe The
As I stare at the empty skies, I hear myself amidst the solitude of night. I close my eyes and think deep About my faith and identity at risk. I am caught in the whirlwind of emotions, Fear, anger, desire
The crunching of gravel beneath my feet A sound I associate with a country retreat Manicured gardens tended with care The scent of rose blossoms filling the air A quiet calm away from the throng The silence disturbed with birds
“You’ll be safe, I promise”, reassured his mum. “But its not you who’ll end up sat on your bum!” A conversation they’d had most every week but it didn’t make his knees feel any less weak. “Now come along, Harry,
Since I have seen you, I have been infected With tormented love to you, and I have been Tortured by mysterious executioner. He is invisible, only felt. At every evening, Before sleep, he whips a dagger into my heart, And
Your eyes are like snake so charming and so warming Your gait is like a deer which give impression of beer Your all other body gestures are so daring and alarming I have taken you in being wonderfully near and
In his tiny eyes, I saw a little glance of life, His innocent face reflects his poverty, As he was facing a great storm in himself, His gloomy voice telling me a legend of his broken dreams, He was too
Character inherent , determines ones nature Person with self respect never asks for favours person with greed always seek favours person with crooked nature steal favours contended will feel UN easy accepting favours Avaricious will not rest in peace without
Sometimes souls are inspired Sometimes souls are broken Sometimes souls have goals Sometimes souls be laissez-faire Is there really a purpose for the existence of a soul? My soul contemplated. First there was nothing when the soul was personified in
As a society, we have reached the point where vanity has overwhelmed sanity Where we prefer big beds instead of big hearts Where we aim to live in big cardboard boxes, hollow ones Where we choose to take shelter alone
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
Simmering on a distant shore, my minds eye floats upon. Swirling thought upon swirling thought do my reflections grow. Infinite realms offer fertile grounds to burrow through. Mountains of realities the minds eye sees one as real as them all.
His middle names Hussein First names barack, by the way The president of the united states And here he lives, born and raised But people like to complain About his “undeserving fame” All because of that Muslim name? What a
the devil is a trickster can’t find him in Twisted Sister sorry that I missed her aim to fame was through the flames eating Cheetos got your juice frozen got thoughts of the ocean sifting through the latest trends some
In his short spaceless life Discordant happiness plays foul, A missed chance heavy price demands. He sought another that never was for him As he feared his utter laziness And never spelt her adored name Before eastern Sun broke forth…..
Where he fixed the features of his mental image what he thought and what tells vividly his visage He planned a journey of progress for present to start When his country would cover that with spirit of heart In future
Sadness mostly breaks upon the horizon it slips into its coma unless you awaken it with a light you carry it like a dead weight a burden inside you. push it all you might but sadness comes again. Let me