Appalachian poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of appalachian poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on appalachian are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Well and there is a LOST SEA Somewhere running through The crystal caverns down and Around the foot hills of the Appalachian Mountains… I remember some kind of strange Indian folklore from many lifetimes Lived before, you look into my
Hold them dear And protect them from fear Shelter them from the raging storm And look forward to the sun and the warm Tough times are ahead Light can seem far away Together you are strong And can face the
To the days that found acceptance readily, With hair all curled and ribboned up, And face all To the up, By smacks of baby powder, Now cherubic cheeks all but missing, A big black polka dot. To the days now
Once there was a lady who framed up a prince to marry. She arranged that her man be turned to a frog for her plan. Kissed frog turns Prince, voila! That was the magic formula. But the Wizard said: ‘No!
Journey of Life is flow of intermittent tears woven around sorrow and happiness While it is the flood of tears during sorrow It is the trickling of happy tears in Joy It is only deep breathing while in mingling it
What we do today will be planted for life and soon cultivate Hopefully into something we love and pray we’ll not hate It could be for someone we know or soon gladly meet Always treading fertile ground on our swift
I like the brown curly hair covering your half face. The crinkles by your eyes are making my heart race. Pull your hair aside, Leave hickey on that neck. Your lips tempt me to taste you and peck. Pull me
I am your child,yet you choose to ignore that fact I am your flesh the fruit that proved other trees that said you can not bear wrong. I shamed your enemies Wrapped their faces in shame with believe that you’re
A path that exists between birth and death, this life is never straight. Every time you need to confront obstacles, even if you have already fought many battles. The book of life contains both happy and sad memories, and it
The Sun becomes red hot Beings search for a drop of water and they fought. Anger it is, as the climate is, The heat is unbearable and nothing can’t see through this. The Earth is burning, but the Pluto is
Hapless souls still living, Dumping all shortcomings on clumsy faith. Gathering ignorance quite strenuous, Marking uncertain gains on life’s expense Without precious self, follies unexpectedly streaming brains. Waste of dying sense builds toll monuments What we often call civilization in
Rainbow-colored butterflies fluttering around- And shades of spring, are the kimono girls Dark like blackbirds and ravens are their hair Fair is their skin, round like the full moon Their eyes like stars of Arabian nights glow Their dance gentle
This must be for real? gasped the yellow budded calyx That must be true. Answered the wasp. Time for me to lapse into another – those petals. But which of you is for real? Questioned the bud again. Said the
for self deception sulfur fumes incite mood swings soaring to clean the malice, reaper of gravity zero what was the price, of a tongue, mimicking the greatness? between birth and death, for survival of crotch, undressing the fear, terror inflicts
Look into my eyes when you’re close to me: I want to lose myself in deeper waters than the sea, To drown me in heavens more distant as the farthest star, To feel that finding myself is not something impossible!
Dream not happiness feel the happiness If unhappy now feel you will be happier later If happy now think you will be happy ever If in a composed mood maintain the composer while in Ecstasy as well as in turmoil
Expedition of life starts at dawn. Trainers come genetically, custom and society fill the gap, we start a journey, the route is misty. I started for the Kanchenjunga Half of the track was well lit road rest was chosen weather-wise.
I have thoughts, ideas. They well up from within. We all have thoughts, ideas, welling up from who knows where. Many unique, having meaning. Unique meaning. Our world, all around, pulsating with such thoughts, ideas. Bubbling in a cauldron, mixing,
Mind your mind with positive and lacquer, 47 degree angles wrapped in her favourite brochure, pinned to the left wing of a soft song. Be free, be happy, be sad, be the wind, be the rain, be wind-rain be god
I am chained Something strains and chains me To suffocate in the tightened grip That forcibly blocks my mild muse ‘Get up, it is too late,` An alarm from my sweet Mom, Who howls like a siren, ‘Oh, I can’t
When my self , apart roams , My conscience recalls madam Marcelene Gomes. My teacher at St. Bartholomew’s school, Who taught us the virtuous rule. A fine and devoted teacher, Humanity and spiritual preacher. A woman of strict conduct, Employing
She is within an ever-lasting atmosphere, She is beneath the never lasting core, She prays, searches, hopes and fights, To find this never lasting door, A door leading to peace and promise, She is running out of time, So why
All those romantic moments washed away in my flood of tears In a moment I got up from slumber dreading this horrific dream In that darkness of night I struggled to get back my sleep Sans sleep I waited endlessly
Today I am so small I ride the corner of your hip, clinging on (with both my tiny hands) to the edge of your pocket. Your denim thighs crest the alternate air like the humping backs of sister whales side
Puffy and white clouds float, On a cool breeze of endless hope, Shape shifting to natural winds, Against the horizon, powerless to pretend… Transparent from close, Cloudy from far away, Is it specific to a clear, Cloudless perfect day… Are
Sometimes I sweat, thinking of my fortune My melancholy is subversive and my melody boring With a firm hope, I wait for the time opportune, With the help of poetry and love, I’ll do my soul’s cleaning. The river is
Have you ever felt sorrows merging with smiles In a colorful handkerchief… When tears mingle with wrinkles and you laugh aloud waters streaming your eyes? Have you ever seen agonies blending with pleasures In a swanky space … When all
Many times it may be a pleasure to meet your dear ones But some times it may be irritating too Mental make up determines our attitudes We may be rude when disturbed We may be pleasant when happy We may
How can White define the Spread of days, Speed, a haze, The blank slate, Looks barren. The pause button seems too long- Can perseverance deter patience? Maybe, the force of resistance, Has been guillotined, To the blow of flow. Time,
These powerful words from heaven above sounding so strong and so bold These eternal words from God almighty, hidden so deep within my soul These living words of God that prophets long ago recorded on a scroll These words shall