Banal poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of banal poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on banal are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
The rain makes puddles on the pavements Children splash their boots in them, it’s not a crime People have ideas and make their statements No one really cares, it’s just a ripple in time I think throwing a stone into
Imagination is the only true dimension; Somewhere which we can form an invention of perfection; Without these facts there is no way to escape our own three dimensional perception; We all dream inside the fourth into which there is no
“Life before me? The play was that banal. And Aryan, poor boy, he was so dull.” Of course, that upset her, she’s smitten; I’ll show you the bad poetry she’s written. You want to help? Rhyme her something nice with
You were trampeling on a wasp, when sprouts were generating Escherichia. Dirt. Romping around. How many corpses were there? Why can’t you tell the exact figure? Under the carpet the shoes will help. The need to jump from the rostrum?
After the pain, some wrath, and more tears Woke up from the trance, which seemed like years The volatile love vaporized to steam Was pinched by reality, out of the pipe dream My heart’d stopped beating and broken apart Residing
After morning stretch exercises in a garden near my home I was relaxing sitting on a bench suddenly a sparrow from a banyan tree fell down just before me she was badly injured perhaps some merciless poacher might have thrown
Sixth sense, a magical phenomena, a super natural phenomena, a gift bestowed upon some people by the Supreme Lord. Each and everyone has got sixth sense; Only those who are spiritually connected to God, Experience the direct perception of truth.
I did not will them dreams of crystals a stupid calendar of flight from insomniac past. Do not want to return to future, hub of my clouds. History had been writhing and screaming. Present cannot redeem my woes. I ask
At this very hour of my life I am sitting alone with a heavy headache I have neither anger nor hatred for you; But I simply pity you And I feel sinful myself; You made me venture into this impossibility
I sit at my rear window looking over the rooftop of the opposite building There’s a woman who frequents there she’s tall and lean with ebony hair I smile to myself as I wait she has mesmerized me, as of
Lights and dark shadows Leaves swirl around A couple hugging with joy A couple in tears saying goodbye Voices fading into the sounds of wheels Of a train traveling to ends unknown Into the depth time and space An inner
Ode to Pablo Neruda There are poets of the day, the sun, the stones, in whose words, the world is a caged bird, that has forgotten its wings. They repeatedly tell us facts that we just can’t refute. And there
Well there are many, many portals and gateways from this world of the living to the WORLD UNSEEN where demons and ghosts walk among us not only in the night but in the daytime too… Could be they’ve attached themselves
You said I was important, I believed you, You said I deserved better, I believed you, You said I meant everything to you, I believed you. Then I moved away, It was time to put those words into actions. Days
A curse and a blessing, sometimes you lose, sometimes you win, somewhere between darkness and dawn a candle in the wind… I take it to the heart, I take it on the run crossing some crazy state line one more
Sitting besides the window , I watched the gloomy cumulus clouds Above the rolling hills. Suddenly, a gush of wind entered Through the open widow. The sun which tried to make its appearance Through the dark and thick clouds, Hid
Dry leaves ruffle together like voices over a gentle waterfall. In this coolness of night are echoes that drift ever so quiet on a breeze, into sleep and the solitude of dreaming. A single thought, a breath, a tear… Sounds
On a glowing morning day, By a meadowy, misty bay. Walked to the sea shore, Stumbling along those on my way. There roamed many incognito, Yet bearing a semblance familiar. A déjà –vu of coming across, A pair of knowing
I was aware My breath was not the same His presence sank in me such I feel him in every drop of rain Pain,anger and intense moments Life’s become a fast trail The destination is worthless now Journey my only
My thoughts of which I let known Were nothing to me all left alone Some slipt away while others pondered In which mostly all were left squandered Or maybe it’s just a hobby of mine To throw a few words
Tilted lips on the wet eyes. Below the lids was floating an island in a lake. Latched to a full moon I was trotting with snowshoes, trekking with stars. A volatile virginity rebounds ticking in your heart, spiteful. And I,
Green earth, blue sky, sapphire sea Longtime a home for life to be Mother of all a vibrant womb Her children awry seal her doom Vast oceans the life-blood of all From its depths the first life did crawl What’s
Look how the sun rises and sets, Earth becomes heaven where man lives; It is man who gets and forgets; Only Allah gives and forgives. Roses bloom and nightingales sing, Rivers run, their waves fall and rise; Allah gets pleasure
The successful man has talent. Talent, perhaps developed, perhaps discovered. And so he works, to become better. The successful man has money. Money to fund his talent. His talent, which will lead to his success. The successful man has friends.
The forest in me dim and bright The sun sparkles gold in my mind, When brooks of feelings swell Like leaves greenish I dwell, Immersed in colors of flowers Roam in the wind of thoughts Till my songs are rippling
Trapped in a box of vicious cycle, paranoid by his inner guilt, the laughter of darkness is agonizing him. No longer he wants to be alive , fighting his never ending nightmare, he lost his sight of hope, fidgeting to
I ask you to bring many things When you plan to visit me I search for those expectantly Forgetting the speech of your eyes And miss your presence The glowing rainbows and the blue sky You created in my room
The heart rending wail from the floor below Found its way into the corridors of my mind, Echoing in my brain long after it subsided. It was Munna’s mom, who died that morning, As drastically as Jigjri’s son lost his