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

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,

Never felt this way before, You have taken hold of me somehow…! Its not everyday one feels like this, I know I’m in love and I need you now…!! Nothing will change, Because its already done…! And it will be

November 9, a stroke again in her life, The broken phone lying near the bed, her eyes filled with tears, a blade in her left hand and bleeding fingers of her right hand, all spoke the same story of betrayal.

I wrote this poetry As I found your beauty Where words that still unsaid Feelings that still undead. I wrote this poetry Because of you And not because of fortune and fame I wrote this poetry Trying not to impress

I am me I am you But who am I What is my purpose Please tell me Am I just surplus Where do I come from And where do I go Why don’t I know Say what you say But

There once was an imp whose appearance was vain, his behavior was foolish, even his speech and imposing mannerisms were maimed! From those eastern cannibalistic lands afar he and his kind had once been blessed, indentured to serve the superlative

I realised late in my life that I was Imported to this world from an unknown world I thought the world I was born belongs to me and none dare question my citizen ship I travelled freely without any permission

Mountain road a staircase to the sky As the early morning mist tries to fly Like a maiden lazily awakens to the morning sun Amid dancing fluffy clouds looking for fun Mountain breeze that strangely never tires Whistling nonchalantly through

Tilling the Piece of land of his own had a Telling effect on his family as the life they lived was full of happiness and Peace Day and night of sweat and blood that he toiled seemed to him like

Speak! My love to tell of how, this arc of circled light Might break upon darkness to dawn with unrequited might. Despair! Rides upon the night, unseen, unfelt, rich with life Through unwanted correspondence pain cuts with a knife To

Hey, what is that your cold piercing gaze is searching for? After breaking my heart into pieces, what you sailed away for I hope I will find you someday, somewhere at some someplace But love is what you are, you

I’ve never seen you like I know that you do You’ve got to see me more and more I want to see you more than you do Come through the door I look around at what it is that you

Oh my Moonflower! I am collecting the carcasses Of your love in my memoir. When the rites are over I shall find you across the island Floating in a boat of garlands. Trying to reach you in the other land

You think I have secrets there are some things I hide You have made me delve into what I may hold inside I think, You should rejoice that I don’t let you in There are some crazy devils that I

Yonder the horizon A red dawn rises Into the gorges’ deep Over peaks of old Into my hearty throbbing Waking love into a wingless flight To seek again for my heart’s Ever longing shine A blaze of yellow light alight

I hold you in my arms watching you sleep, Feeling your breath against my cheek. I feel your heart beat against mine, I hold your hands feeling them intertwine. I feel overwhelmed with sudden love. You look so innocent and

May there be mercy this day of mourning. Fly flags half-mast for human rights’ regress. The “forgotten” poor, white male minority are distressed by their societal mortality. Clinging to obsolete “common” privilege: sexism, lying, and xenophobic “wisdom”. They are what

Your eyes Are bluer than the skies Of summer. They shine more brightly Than heavenly stars that sparkle nightly. No finer line Could ever define A shape more perfect in design. One look and I’m enraptured – Captured! They have

Stuntion Stuntion I made you a girl with plenty of emotions You always asked for my attention Hurting you wasn’t my intention When you start to know me I changed like a season I know you are mad and I’m

There’s a bench in the park where an old couple sit holding hands and laughing as the children play and flit about on the swings and slides with boundless joy, inciting memories of when they were girl and boy. The

In the grasp of intoxication We burned our friendship in our skin This was not an act of bravery This was not an act of wit It symbolized our souls and how brightly they were lit, We were kept awake

Through the elements of fear in faith you become vulnerable to conversing legends. The reclining god was stolen from the temple for a weeping skull. Red clover will interrogate the blurred sky for domestic violence of dark themes. Ashes in

There is no pain, Like the pain you feel, When your child is in pain. The pain of: a broken arm, A broken heart, a wounded soul; Pain comes in many guises. You would gladly be in pain yourself, Or

When I find myself alone and restless.. My feelings come out to play like children taunting me. Loneliness , worry, sadness, anxiety .. I try to ignore them, i accept the emotions, try to work through them. I talk myself

Oh my Sunshine, are you looking for shade! Or do you miss the light under the scanty rain? Are you my yesterday’s reminiscence or my today’s muse in disguise? I, who fell in love with the monsoon that took away

One Day, You will have to leave this world It does not matter how rich you With the money you can not buy life After Death You will be taken to a court Which will be different from our court

Bearded face still looks from the severed head, in timeless gaze after the spitting blast. A nimbus cloud is lobbed on the tormentor to stop burning; the silver urn contains the daisy sick to wean away the enemy of tender

What is the relevance now to live for a cause? Epicenter has changed. They were altering the human gene. Butterflies, the lips of squealing babies. I was very fond of monarchs, flying in huge clouds, settling like a drizzle on

Dried leaves flutter across retina Spring gusts pop stop move along crawl catch scurry scurry duck walk jump twirl hold lifted up and up flying returning Blur burned image receding winged body’s sudden arc up impossible to see details vibrating

Trapped in staircase, huddled in dark, you cannot go up. you cannot go down. The succession wars have started again. Bending the laws, molesting, disowning. The predator will get away eating the gold, the paradise. You are left with the

in this December and January of my 70th year death has had me at its beck and call in a way it never has before daily I feel it and know it every day I know you know we all

It was early spring, I wondered what it would bring. A celestial then came outta the blue, Left me with no clue, Trappin’ me in a succulent trance, Like the flushing meadows of France. Her smile made the moon look

As I was engrossed in my thoughts and was sipping my tea, I suddenly felt so fresh for there was somewhere the source of positive energy, it broke my trance and I looked around, for the source the epicenter that

Freedom means little till it is gone, Be it to live or the right to be born, Freedom determined by a series of letters, More than the absence of shackles and fetters, Freedom is blinded by those who receive, Who

I do not know who shall show me the direction in being a compass to my lost ship; I do not know who shall provide a soothing balm for my soring wounds; I do not know who shall quench my

Walking through the rainbow garden Of marble walls and fountains of gold I still wear the blue crystal you gave Me 10 years ago and sometimes I can Still hear your music when the right Wind blows, stranded in paradise