Becoming poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of becoming poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on becoming are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
I had a heart which knew to care But had a problem…. wanted all things to be fair. Did not realise….. love is beyond any need Beyond anger, anguish, pain and any greed. The heart cried and cried Till the
Unveiled, the moon will find you after morose beginning of becoming – me Homophobia creeps in, beyond the condemnation, the incompleteness. You walk straight in the arms of contradiction, confusion smearing the wall with your crimson, nihilistic words. Every other
It’s nights like these when I feel like an irony living within itself radiating love yet feeling unloved. It’s night like these when I can’t recognize what tomorrow holds or recall what yesterday held. I feel like an insect crawling
Mirror, Mirror, you think you know me. Showing me like an icy lady. That’s not how I want to be seen. Mirror, mirror, treat me like a queen. Why don’t you compliment my changes? I’m becoming a lovely lady. Show
A hollow space within my heart Says, Hello Daddy let’s restart. Let us walk back in time, I’ll hold your hand you hold mine. Only the happy places we’ll visit The sad roads we will resist. We’ll walk down the
Trying to follow truth his journey was nightmarish. Alchemic fusion with past and future failed – his bowl was still empty. In the inner space a largesse, free of present, becomes the pain of perfection! Now what to do next?
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
When you think you have beauty in your life and it is taken When you think a world is born of your own mind’s eye; creation When lies are the commonest words spoken without deprecation When the dark nights become
Each day brings a new turmoil unfazed i stand it pricks me like a needle and i keep standing tall don’t even acknowledge the sting am becoming numb another threshold another day am waiting for the moment when i finally
No one saw in those hands the stone But people propagate that he pelted apparently kept mum on my stumbling but water springing from fountain says cried stone stone will never clash with the irony emotions of love For clashed
” If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe.” —Carl Sagan It’s all in there, waiting, just waiting in the time before time, the universe, our universe, packed unimaginably tight, indistinguishably tight,
Love Insanity It has no beginning, no end either Only an intrigue the ‘is’ its synonym She laughs on that state of mine Become mischievous, I will turn over new leaf Limit!That even reason seeks its foot prints For prostration
If someone is having bad time Then surely good time arrives That time you’ll feel very lucky When everything is going fine But what one should do When life is becoming a dirty game When fate is not with you
Today I want to take a lethal dose of black lips, confronting the killer on contract. Time dithers to escort. May be a cold-blooded murder of a handful of sick shadows will give a transparent memory. Planting a sad kiss
See the amazingly ironical sky Many stars are larger than the planet Still they seem to be some sort of fly I can feel my eyes becoming a electromagnet. Feeling the silence of the peaceful sigh Giving the problems yet
They breezed past as air of life, Never ever to return I didn’t realise! ‘Moments’ that shaped my today, Experiences that enriched my way A fleeting childhood with siblings, A sidelong path to discover things, A raucous time trying to
Drowning her children back in her womb, a big tear rolls down the cheek of earth. She was sitting on broken bones to watch the terror, ear for ear to listen, eye for eye to see. Hope was becoming ephemeral.
They were burned alive. Most cherished to me, betraying the functionality of a system, interstitial asphyxiation took place. In the garb of a garlanded saint a gun booms. The death is rolled from tongue to tongue, flying limbs get strung
Dusted and faded, yellowed and cracked Yet overflowing with forgotten life, There are a hundred souls eager to reclaim The mind’s eye from an almost nothing. Quavering beneath the invisible ramparts And the omnipresent tower. Cold to idealism, yet basks
If only words were capable enough! To articulate how I felt, The delicate heaviness that dwelt In the crevice of my heart, And the hollowness I dealt When we had to part, The fear of a lonesome night, The sense
Sometime, somewhere I will break into many moons – an oblique answer to a terrestrial question of a pale river. The heat is on, because of the fatal mistakes. Violence has pregnancy. Walls stand alone without a roof hauling the
They manipulated the words to cross the corridors of essence. Crib was empty, child was stolen. At blood stained altar there was no clue to mystical death. The contents now matter. Time displays tools of murder, snaps the sheet from
It was not a demigod, elephantiasis of a beast, snakes sitting on head. A catastrophic tree view.I was proud of being alive during carpet-bombing. A catnip was needed to clear the vision. The town was moving out shedding its landmarks.
1 She is the tree green and wide abundantly dressed overflowing spreading her sleeves blesses all in her cool shade solitude teems with breezy songs I feel nearer God 2 That autumn tree from this window looks like a young
Pangs of loneliness – unholiness of worship.. Fallen gods becoming idols, idolaters seeking redemption. Crass waste of endeavor, and yet it seems like yesterday.. The silence is deafening, where once stood the revered, now stands a debauched figurine. Some folks
The men were pulled out from homes, died on road, burned to bones and ashes. At the behest of tall, unforgiving state. Compulsion of armchair and mansion distorts, the regrets of centuries. The stones, blameless flowers, spurting blood do not
That grave alchemy of cold fusion, of turning mercury into gold, makes me undone in a fit of anger. Punished before the crime committed, of saying no for yes, of disobedience in the face of a command, I am becoming
searching for words in continuum of incompleteness, it was a trickle at first, then a free fall, cerebral fury: I am becoming expansive, so apposed to verbatim of shrieks, only in whispers I will talk to delphiniums, I would walk
For my water god I entered the wetlands. Fog was increasing and me becoming incoherent. The swamp throws a high tide of rolling wave I lift the burden of bones and take a plunge in darkness. The holy moon gives
Breaking the path by random steps, you move, and thoughts make a ritual dance. In a wingless flight, a cosmic gloom envelops you. You try to stop the dark tremors, Yet you don’t feel safe in a crowd. Life has