Analysis Poems

It is a foregone conclusion that the writer uses all five senses to create their work. However, I have found ( at least in my experience) that each sense exercised provides it’s own individual inspiration. Not to be over analytical

Self-realisation does not come when you expect it. It is beyond being aware or understanding your situation. It involves radical thinking Awakening happens when you’re fed up And you want to break the vicious cycle Unchain yourself from what society

I had always wondered If fiction is wrought Only in books and on celluloid. I know now, that fiction is when one by one the layers are pulled off. and the shadows that remain Is fiction. So when the boundary

Mind has different roles in realizing life’s goals. It claims to be rational in self-concerned decisions, creates different logics to win over pricking situations may be logics and decisions damage self and social control. Rationality in logics for all results

The Joy of Bing Skits zoid When just a whippersnapper of a little boy Me late mum and octogenarian pop agreed For doctor removal of my adenoid Less to prevent their only son from being coy Than fear of said

My fellow Americans, The hour is dark. Hence I stand before you With a heavy heart. Something is coming, Something man has never seen – An attack lacking precedent Within the pages of history. As you all well know, We

The voices, unheard The image, unseen. The crevasse that separates The analysis from my mind. It can’t reach me, as I cannot reach it myself. But still I am told to reach For the goal that I cannot see. Before,

Come my dear let us be strangers again With that suffocating pain in my heart On a sad note let me depart don’t wish to indulge in the blame game don’t want to give a dent to your name and

We have one mother – mother India We have one father – Mahatma Gandhi We have one home – Bharat We have one religion – tolerance We have one flag – the tricolor We have one emblem – Ashoka pillar

How could someone like you? Ever love someone like me… Well you must be an Angel A miracle sent to me from Heaven above as hard as it Is to believe, just when I had All but given up on

Went looking down the watery path Leaves discarded, travel to a new heaven and Metallic green of mallard neck Catches my eye; what is this? The canal is split after the lock A weir takes the heavy current Sends an

I love the way you always smile making me feel zeal and agile I love the way your sleek cheeks glow when with strings of melody gusts of wind blow I love the way your blue eyes shine convince our

Some days, I sit and dream of being something beautiful. I dream of being the sweet flower in every person’s garden, Or the little butterfly that every child loves. I dream of being the magnificent peacock, flaunting every gorgeous feather,

We are called a “shadow”, they say we should never have existed at first.So they treat us like mere entities that exist only in their dreams, We are called ,’ugly’ because we are black ,because we are different , Our

Imagine Israeli and Palestinian children given flowers, roses, and peace signs To take home to their parents as gifts of love and freedom. Imagine smiling at them and learning of The future they have in store for more Balanced communities

God Loves Us He gave His son up for Us Sometimes, We tend to not understand how massive it is ‘Cause we’re limited, we don’t understand how limitless it is God said we are Precious in His sight Please, don’t

Cute a little, a nice friend she is! Always a little chittery, a chattery she is! Gets a little bittery, a battery she is! Anyways a little tingly, a tangly her life is! So a little blingly, a bangly her

I want to run away, (she said) From the idea of ‘we’ From everything From you and me… This existence Or lack of it This endless tumult The burden of wish This rowing and rowing to a nether shore I

Night is cloaked beneath a shroud As moon does slip behind a cloud Camouflaged, his darkened face Patrols the perimeters of the base Laid low, like snake he slowly slivers As cold night air does make him shiver And yet

If I could write you a love song, I’d do it. Sitting in this cool, silent cabin, Watching through a window framed by Pines, the afternoon as it ages and dies, I’d spin a melody in notes tender and True

With stoicism writ on face I invite the chisels for giving birth to a dialogue between me and the shaper. Where did the things go wrong in making the life a simple page to write a beautiful poem? Buddha give

Slaves work hard in the cotton field from morning to night deprived of yield. They have to endure the heat from the sun. Oh, when will their lives as slaves be done? The slaves have little food to eat, and

Tell me about her. – Her gaze was empty. She was here, yet she wasn’t. Everyone around her in tune with reality, While she was somewhere in the distance. No one could ever reach her. She shut them all out.

There once Lived a man named Mr McDocks, he loved one thing and THAT thing was clocks. He fixed them and sold them; he had his own shop, he treasured them always; it JUST wouldn’t stop. He had watches, grandfathers

Revive thee the sun of home, REVIVE THEE the son of Tome.. where casteth thee thy piping rays where goest thee thy solid shadows mama’s only son and pride of Tom” that one strong , once bold ,young man adored

Take my soul and watch it burn. Thee shall not be afraid of the flames that surrounds the earth. I only seek revenge on those who my trust betrayed. A minute more not to waste. They shall run. I will

When distant chimes announce the midnight hour, And full the milky moon hangs in the sky; I hope to meet again your dan’rous power, And pray this abstract love at last can die. Each nearing step, each heavy, panting breath,

Wishing all loving friends very happy new year Though staying far away yet you are very near New dawn will be very zealous like crystal clear Welcome the effervescent sun with fervent cheer All your amazing dreams may come true

The chord struck again Without any desire, the tears did rain. Unable to find why, The angels did solace. But, the inner demons smirked hysterically, “Oh! what did you gain?”. If empathy is what you want , It is lame!

The music em enacted from that shining round stick called the flute, far from a distant shore , mesmerised me to travel to the place in per suit What a paradise was it to get attracted towards the dusty eyes

we have a clean white bed, slept late, a shock to break the ritual. a treat on a major scale. probably ten. I think I may like to travel to small places, old and full of history. deep aged fabrics

My heart longs for your consoling words. My ears longs to hear your footstep. My nose longs for your smell.. My skin longs for your touch. My head longs to lie in solace of your arms. My eyes are weary

Remembrance was it, Mesmerized to be. With the white wall of waves, Running towards in leaps and bounds, To embrace the human world, With warmth they touch the froth, Immersed they’re in love and passion, Lashing against the rocks in

Drop by drop they follow to shower, Sometimes heavy and sometimes slower. From the high to the low, Feeling the earth and to flow. Sounding in a delightful drizzle, Healing the land dry to mizzle. Little children way to home,

A complaint to God God made me rich But you didn’t give poor the money stitch God you gave me a house But made the poor sleep on the dead bodies of a mouse You gave me lots of love

Does anyone else lie awake at night, Silently putting the world to rights, Wondering if they should get out of bed, Or keep on trying to sleep instead. It’s December and I seem to think it’s funny, To think about

Every night by candlelight I go to you on the wings of a Firebird and you are there waiting for me in your red cape where fire burns outside the snow… you reach out for me without saying a word,

I saw it as you might see an accident – you’ve saved up all your life for a trip to France not going to Paris but up in Brittany where the family came from long ago never dreaming they’d turn

I’m all about the extremes But not in this case Don’t give me no black or white I love me a little bit of Grey I don’t really wanna have an opinion I don’t really wanna chose a path I

I am not an Angel but love to fly with wings it is my fantasy flight, to begin with… life is about keeping balance when in the air it can be by helicopter or simply by plane. I use to

That darkness in your eyes mirrors mine and that crowd in your head multiplying like quicksilver dropped and stomped gleaming like judgment I’ve seen it too It’s hard to exorcise things that are real and unreal their weight measured in