Amateur poems bring the best collection of short and long amateur poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great amateur rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these amateur poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on amateur are here for you.
He was the first man your eyes opened to.. The shivering hand that touched your tiny nose.. The strong arm you cuddled on.. His love that kept brimming but never spilled.. Those eyes that made everything seem within reach.. That
When young folks still in college try to find The hottest and best paying growth career But they’ve no conscience, and a clever mind, The experts would suggest they monger fear. You find folk’s fears, then focus on a few:
He and I (a subtle amateur attempt at understanding Narcissism) He loved himself and I loved him He believed he was superior and I was happy to be his shadow He wanted all the attention and I always showered it
Hardly does anything trespass through the intricate niches of delirium, A shout practically hovers around in oblivion and a morning yell is supposed to be suppressed in the enthusiastic turbulence of dark whirl Darker emotions have to be admitted and
Today’s pandora box is possessed, spirits within are legion, living bogeys are numerous, ever so often drunk, every day pandora hypnotizes followers, 24/7 pandora mesmerizes- adherents- making billions addicted to vacuum tube. Ancient gods- mild or ferocious- pandora has rebranded,
I am consumed with leaving one foot in the door and a portion of my brain the size of a doubled walnut begins to perform calculations how long a stay means eagerness how long obligation how long politeness how long
I opened my eyes upon the world My tiny fingers were tightly curled My eyes saw the brightness and quickly closed Sounds all around me filled my ears unopposed I opened my mouth and let out a cry As hands
The infinite cosmos dull in comparison to your enticing eyes. The soft tenderness of your voice leaves me breathless, to my surmise. Your addictive smell that lingers amidst every inch of my sole being. How the way you whisper my
Everything shattered once and forever They were escaping from ultimate fever The fever of wars and massacres They saw hope waves So surfed blue waves Man lost the jewel and hopes waived Blue said, don’t make me red For hundreds,
The table is set and the turkey’s fine, ‘taters, sprouts and a glass of cheap wine. Crackers, party hats, bad jokes and toys, plenty of fun for good girls and boys. Pass me the stuffing, cranberry sauce, Yorkshire pudding and
Not all instincts lead to what one loves especially in the matters of the present. For when terrible becomes synonymous with beautiful, the tragedy of control educates the child within of what the grown up situation has not. Call it
“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,
Come back, Pa, I need your cash The hunger pangs make me wanna chow the natives You shoulda raised me poor, given me something of my own You grow into the castle forecast upon you And I will never have
A perfect breeze and a crystal blue sky, Speckled with colors of kites flying high. A little beyond, the rainbow smears its color On the Prussian Blue Kite that glides in valor. The crowd beneath rejoice and cheer, As his
Your cheeks, in red ochre rouged In dimples, the scarab dew slurps Eyes and teeth, a white flash sleight Stretch marks, varicose crossed, like The Anaconda’s swallowing strains. Your life restless, the nose suffocates Dawn disrupts as the feathers ruffled.
Beings of erotica were at the gates of heaven. Shell-shocked, the city was becoming political but people were absconding. It was global warming for obscenity. The remoteness was collapsing and moons had come in my arms. Smoking the serrated leaves
When I look in the mirror of my reflection, I see just another human being swallowed up in depression. When you look in the mirror do you like what you see? Is the self esteem absentee? Are you only 5″
Well we’ve been through a lot these Past few years…on again, off again And again but I still love you Baby…Am I Still Your Boyfriend Well I know you’ve been faithful to Me when I’m not around, don’t ask me
I’ve placed you inside my heart for now. I’m hoping you won’t break your way out too soon. This love will fade away but I’ve waited long enough. Please don’t add more bricks to the surrounding wall. Help me tear
As the sun peeps out over misty morning hills and the dawn chorus calls with its piercing shrill, the demons of the night skulk slowly away, a sidelong glance at the few who got away. He rises and stretches and
“HMS Trincomalee, British Man-O-War, sixty guns, one hundred gross tons was she, The Purser and Pressman am I, managing a pressgang in strict service of country and King. Her ships bell marking time; bosun pipes: Captain arrives! She’ll turn with
Separated by months and eight thousand miles making love to you is an impossibility like painting a hangar with a pallet knife clearing four feet of snow with a soup spoon yet one day you arrive and we meet always
Dwelling above Lake Louise is a young Alpha mountain goat who got run out of his pack for trying to take control away from the senior Alpha mountain goat. Young Alpha mountain goat is a feisty and shaggy beast. Fearless!
A self-protecting game was going on. After the paternity test there was slow burning inside the moon. Earth heaved a big sigh. Blackwater was making a muddy sound. Embroidery was fading aftermoon. I open the window to uncover the chill.
The bald mannequin, stands undraped, without genitalia moving the lips. The choreographer walks in caressing the knobs to open the invisible door. There would be knife between the teeth and dance in the flames to lift up the veil, to
We have heard many say Sky is the limit What is this Sky about For doing so many things Helping the needy Achieving a goal Setting great targets To become “somebody” To scale a mountain To cross a big river
NEW MOON SPELL in the backwoods of the Louisiana bayou, voodoo is alive and well… Calling on fire, wind, earth and water in the shadow of the torch lights as the dance of the dead is danced, caught up in
There is magic in rice cereals. They dance as baby- fish in boiling pan, and soon become snowy cool Delphinium. Boiled grains easily vanish in the mouth, a mug-full keeps you cool in summer. Roasted rice is fluffy and light,
sailing along these cumbersome waves with scorching rays upon our heads paddling against the winds of time so i will sing as bell the chime riding towards our yon of passion poesy to the cliffs and peaks of infinite glory
In the turbid brooding skies, And restive trees beneath, In the innards of my eyes, And in those shadows fleet, you are. In the scented mountain breeze, And the trembling blades of grass, Where the mist clad mountains coalesce, And
To waste hours eliminates days smell those flowers hold that gaze to bite your tongue, sometimes is best forgive the young as they learn the rest To blindly go ignoring choice with volume low that inner voice To needlessly worry