Anniversary poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of anniversary poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on anniversary are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
People turn to perceive love as a fragrance, spreading from a new bud; Which blossoms and turns into beautiful flower in each passing day But the same bud coarsens and falls apart from the stem, No one realizes the phase
Thirty five years ago I had dreams galore, Planning and executing my mini master plans of life ahead, Moon-eyed and romantic I entered into wedlock, Holding hands and making promises of undying love, was I Of half a century weight,
Her abuse of my naivety left a gaping wound; the cloaking (but never healing) of that wound made me hard and cold. She was sweet and sincere She dried my tears She was sympathetic And somewhat poetic She drew me
Myriad of grasshoppers were sitting on the leapless bush celebrating the earth. I was never happy with the anniversary of thirst eating the memories of green. His hand rummages to collect the shrunk berries from my chest. Today the sun
George Washington and Abraham Lincoln commanders in chief epitomized supreme martial mien and vocalized special flair talents summoned from their native heart-land motif in Modus Operandi of bootstraps dare acquired evanescent mythic reverence extant within bibliographic brief and closest role
Fiendish and gruesome phantasmagoric denizens Dwell deep inside subterranean vault perform an evil dance Haunt psychic landscape with imaginary (yet realistic) Gargoyle visitations that cast a macabre trance Nocturnal unconscious invaders cavort and gallivant Disturb quiescent sleep with devilish and
We used to have a house, ignorant of his birthday anniversary. Its wall was hanged on a black and white photo, The photo hanged by a thread made of the fur of a goat coming from pre-Islamic era, The thread
With fireflies in a jar, I treaded along the path, Strewn with silver streaked flowers, Under the starlit sky. The moon hid its face , Behind the cloudy sheers, And beckoned to the trees, To sing a soothing lullaby. A
When roses bleed thorns- it’s time to prune them. Waiting for seasons to change- is like waiting for silence to resolve- conflicts- a game of pride and rank. When roses bleed thorns- thistles outgrow the rosebuds; until color is lost
Let’s, you and I, have secs. Let’s have seconds that lead to minutes that lead to hours that lead to days. For entertainment purposes, let’s enter our secs for roles in ‘special’ theatrical plays in which we’re allowed to act
Listen that delicate one at the stream With the touches of rays at the shimmering cheeks That rhythming heart with troughs and the peaks With the waters of eyes and the emotions, cream Quiet is the drop and the orangish
I saw you walking down the road Into the mundane Could I hold you back a little into a diversion a moment of indulgence unpredictably startling smile on your face and a sweet memory that will make the mundane extraordinary..
The particulate allegories were tossed around. The wheels had refused to exit. Unscathed, phrases were erupting in pulses. There was flame and ice Inherent – in the silicate of wedded friendship. Who was afraid of the bed in heydays of
There is a picture on the wall, With some people hanging around Each smiling and laughing Enjoying and having the time of their lives Each wearing their own costumes, Each with their own colours Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Yellow, Green,
It is autumn grapes are bleeding. The orange color seeps into your eyes. Will you shut the green lids? You, start reading backward. Atavistic instinct to dig up the severed hands? Your house, died in the flower bed. Seeds were
People who live all their lives observing others often amuse me.. Here is a poem to such… A happy neighbor causes such to go green, A sad neighbor may easily be demeaned… A rich neighbor may be the one in
Rhetoric had a theme like crab-grass to destroy the lawn. Fly ash had submerged the legacy of sane lips. The river drifts between the broken walls of binge soaring. Tension was descending in the lanterns who were flickering hopelessly. Was
The Shadow of a Broken Word do you see? The Shadow of a Lifeless Entity Beneath your feet. The sunray hits your face where you glow, Shadowy tears on the other side so flow, Which you are afraid to show.
Rose for my love, the best that heaven owns, The fairest Earth could bloom beneath the skies, As tucked upon her hair instead of crowns, Bestows well what the lack of crowns denies; That wisp of cloudiness above her head,
In this battlefield, I’m the charioteer and you, dear Sun, my chariot. The reins I hold, your golden hairs are slipping out of my grip. So please be gentle with your blue rays that blind my eyes with the haze
O my Valentine….a sound with pleasant smile For the sad faces It seems like exile Having a relish love They look like a dove Taste you too…. Nothing I can do That’s so peculiar That’s so unfamiliar Except you, nothing
Goal is a dream, Strive for your goal. Follow your dreams, Realize your potential. Seize every opportunity, In most difficult times. When faced with impending failures, Do not lose hope. Mobilize your thoughts, Overcome fear. Keep a positive mindset, Shun
She surfaced from the blue sea like Aphrodite’s child in all her splendor droplets of water sparkled on her body as if she were covered in precious diamonds. I walked over and offered my name she submitted hers so willingly.
Two people met, accidentally. With no rhyme or reason, Not knowing where to begin, Unsure what to hold as conversation. Just when the silence was getting unbearable, There was a klink on the glass window. Slow drizzle of words poured
The earth’s shadow thrusts its fangs into the flesh of the moon, yet the moon remains silent, bleeding the heavy light over the waters. It wounds me; its muteness – I would like to hear it yelling as howls the
Between the breathless breeze of day, I stood and wondered what to say, A sunlit sea, a cloud dressed night, a fawn dressed in the morning light, So much to choose , so much to paint, before my days grow
In memory of my Grand Mom who died over 30 years ago. Seeing you lying there In your eternal sleep; Lots of water has flown through since I was a child five year old Playing around the home Not knowing
I threw myself in deep slumber pledging not to play the game for others and exiled myself within me after the rebellion. A realized being, suffers at the hand of a thorn skull, learns to be silent, choking on words
If you can’t open your eyes and see the beauty of surroundings within you, If you can’t hear the sounds and hear the songs of the birds chirping, If you can’t smell the freshness of air, For you, I will
World of maze ? Fuzzy is the world about mess in the cosmos where the mass amasses gross income that almost abates the flux in values fore grounded in the spinals of mortals. Crazy is the youth on the online