Archaeological poems bring the best collection of short and long archaeological poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great archaeological rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these archaeological poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on archaeological are here for you.
I am here on an archaeological quest, to satisfy many a curious mind’s request for knowledge on antiques and artifacts of Egypt’s long extinct historical facts, in treasured sands buried, like gold mines earnestly sought for in stories shrouded in
The whole truth was porus, a hard punch on my face. We stood on the edge of lies. Body twisted at several places, mutually hating, yet telling sweet nothings, bored umpteen times like eroded hisses. The shrieks belie the red
For two days I stayed in a hill resort Opposite was a hill top, easy to conquer with little effort That was covered by many a variety of tree Without greenery, leaving few gaps, as free Those gaps looked like
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
When you pluck a flower, the tree remains silent When you remove a leaf, it reposes to relent When you climb over, it shields When you sever a branch, it yields When you harvest the fruits, it doesn’t demur When
Whatever your troubles, whatever your fears give them to the Lord and set your spirit free open your heart and mind today, don’t you know JESUS IS JUST A HEARTBEAT AWAY, peace and love is yours for the asking, there
Walls slowly closing in So fixated on the seams of the tiles Till they faded Cold and wet Longing for warmth But the lights dimmed And the body left jaded The heat of the fast flowing blood Did not give
Weaving fine fibres of unripe beliefs, from a fire base, a blue bird scrambles, shading the stone valley. There was no thrift for the cadavers. The burnt relics were eating away the greens of tearful eyes. Sun was slugging again.
He hiked up the path etched in the grass To the hilltop that looked over the sea Pinched the earth to test its girth Then stretched out under the tree Standing fast where it grew Firmly rooted and true Far
Oh brutal incessant rain! When you’re gonna wanna stop? Shame that you kept this wussy weakling busy with mop. All day long, You might think that you’re so efficacious, But now hey you’re more than enough. Cliché is that you
Being not poetical, how pitiful it is, Sometimes I sit somewhere and watch the Slew of mass flowing over dusty street And a strange thought dawns in my mind How poetical these rushing souls actually are? Perhaps I know these
The world is inhabited by us, nearly every nook. We are afraid of each other. We have weapons, massive amount of weapons, to protect ourselves from ourselves. Why? What are we afraid of? We breath the same air, we see
Sixties came and went, As the seventies rolled in I was born upon my mother’s breast Last of four kids, I was the baby of the family Seventies were filled of adventure, fun, and games Learning new faces and names
The black beads set amidst the gold beads A jewellery, to be adorned eternally. Reminding us the promises we had made To keep the hearts, happy and hale… Amidst the feast, glitter, and flowers On a hustling, happening and upbeat
Sometimes, it looks beautiful and loving, Our thoughtless acts and thirst of beauty, Make much harm to the sweet beloved, We ultimately stop the outburst of beauty. Making fairy doors in the stems of trees, Looks beautiful and charms exploiting,
Amidst of delusional notions for the inexplicable to reveal Beginning to be rummaged for the very cause of ordeal Dilemmas often encrypted with multitude of resolves Ones where you’re nucleus around which it all revolves Blinded by agitated tenacity improbable
Blessed??? So called destiny pushed me to an end, Found comfort and peace in writing, Making Poetry my best friend. Revisiting the past had never brought solace, Penning each emotion, hurt and pain, Aided in ending the distress with absolute
Brain Born Perverts : The denial of earthly existence ! Does The Existence sustain? Beguile compels to distort , And infuses the fickle fake plots . The dignity of faith and the formidable stature Are plundered by time winged lockouts.
From a carpet of green, the colours emerge, as if untouched, since birth, by human hand. Some stretch towards the warmth of the sun. In a shaded corner, others rest in small space, unassuming. Some separate and spread themselves, climbing