Barbaric poems bring the best collection of short and long barbaric poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great barbaric rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these barbaric poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on barbaric are here for you.
Blood dripping from the pages of history books, wartime pictures, dried bones, graveyard stones, torture weapons, memorial sites, echoing the atrocities which occurred at Auschwitz. Any poems that capture the glimmers and whispers of a rainbow in another season may
It goes without saying; soon the cow barn will be full & men quite drunk, Women busy preparing to feed stomachs and give one of their own away, To who, doesn’t it matter? Old, too old or extremely old, a
There‘s no power strong enough to halt this motion Thus, the universe, hinged upon a transient axis in her cosmos plane, spin and revolves in an infinite motion But not moving forward, thus days and years were born All substances
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.
The sprawling mangrove forest shifted away from the giant concrete thoroughfare that has come to traverse through their murky habitation. Their host of wild mammals and their uncut barbaric lifestyle have retreated farther to their dense recluse of primitivity. New
Among my Father’s gifts that keep giving I see less and less of the living. I find art that will never, be given to us again ever. Blue plaques and statues confirm their passage. Blues and bad news can’t hide
She came to visit me from America, Everybody shouted, she is my replica. She is very pretty, white and pink, She wore her jacket, made of mink. My little lady always looked very busy, Serving tea with her beautiful tea-cosy.
Widening cracks, leaking roofs choked drains in the courtyard water logging and myriad such small things make rains a pain There’s no romance in rainbow I can’t shape colors of morning morning shapes my color: I’m the victim of my
It’s cold there, And you left me, A blanket and your memories, Are the only things left with me. Yes, the warm black blanket, Soaked my tears all night, I should have realized it before, You were the endless dark
Fear of a mound, tumbling down on the half-buried, half dead archives of desires, comes like a stampede of hoops on my chest. I lie alone in a desert of insanity. From the sea of agony one drop of salted
Freedom is in the air, Freedom is in thy care, free the birds of emotions with love, and see the freedom flow everywhere. . This is the time which is divine, Now no looking back and let’s not confine, They
You raise me from my deathlike slumber- only to die out in silence like a shooting star. With sweet words you buffer- my heart into a steaming samovar! Your frown sinks like a smiting bolder- ruining my entire day like
Today is conjunction of two seasons, winter likely wants to enter in the state of autumn. I am walking in the street and sensing the presence of winter. Faded field, dry wind just make the day mopish a little bit,
Gazing at the keyboard Then gaping at the screen Heartbeats scribbling suggestions At blank paper of mind, naive Love, a word ringing around like temple bells This is what he spoke, didn’t he? Consciousness went dazed A dreamlike modified reality
Caught in boundless spirals with imminent full of doubt Must accept unkind reality of being down but not out All dreams in past nurtured now appear so far removed Resolute earlier perspectives for now stand disapproved Transient phase of ambiguity
Without doubt, I often ask what life is all about, And if I so may say, It seems much like a theatre play. With humor, a comedy, Without… a tragedy. Hypocrisy we get for free, Sincerity, costly for both you
Take these hot pavements To my horizon of unborn secrets Beating down like a drum Never mind that scorching sun Together, we’ll run. The proliferation we seek Like a soft photosynthesis Blooming in this parched desert What do you think?
Sea sand wind and rain all will be gurgling in pain whence it has arisen in noises surfing waves alighting high and low above the ravines careless and moody lushing and slushing movements of waves for only surfing Pale is
His mind was cultured for vicious activities, His passion criminal perfections and dual identities, His soul lingered on malicious immoralities, His goal to torture and destroy individualities. He stood on the gateway with a loaded gun, He opened the gate
Their fingers gently interlocking, each clasped the other’s hand. In silence whilst they slowly walked, on the soft, warm, evening sand. Just an occasional inquiring glance, into the other’s eyes. Spirits in a romantic waltz, such depth of feeling a
I never know my children, once delivered they’re yours. Nurture and protect them, absolve them of all flaws. I am just a donor, casting seeds upon the leaves. Your perception filters any growers from the weeds. I present these gifts
Lead me into, the green darkness, under the nude flames. It was hurting; the golden sun. Out of full moon, werewolves would come out chasing the flesh, the long limbs of silence, in asci of fluids, stopped in tracks. No
“I am pure blue-blood”, said he, “as pure as it can get.” of the tall, fair, handsome varieties. Twice over I despised him but managed but a smile, as he deviously managed to convey his derision for us darker-skinned commoners.