Bleaney poems bring the best collection of short and long bleaney poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great bleaney rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these bleaney poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on bleaney are here for you.
Obsequious, and gorged on words, he straightens faded dust jackets: Barthes, de Beauvoir, Brautigan. Thin skeins of nicotine dissipate over ancient oak, whispers echo amongst carved shelves. Thoughts weave their tangled web through the melancholic mess of his marching mind.
She has blossomed like a flower. Her smiles her blush tell that she is fresh and young. She walks like a bird that had just learned how to fly, Ignorant of the predators, around her. She smiles with one and
And he has waited for her since eternity, eternity still awaits him. He has spanned infinity, infinity separates him from her. His love is true, eternal-infinite, beautiful. She is Absolute: true, eternal-infinite, beautiful. In a moment and a movement, she
I’ll teach you how to read How soft the pages feel underneath your rough fingertips I’ll teach you how to play the violin, How music reveals what’s been hidden for years I’ll teach you how to braid your hair To
Friends They pretend Few Remains a true When glad Celebrates! In mourn Fakes the concern Deep inside They call a toast Cheers if she grin Grin if she’s sick They mourn and tell It’s okay, all is well In their
Apathetic forever responses just try being bit concerned Readjust to a sense of giving for volumes to be returned Get rid of limiting blinkers to view all what surrounds Delights ripened for picking where bliss always abounds In vain quest
What are we doing? Where are we going from here? What are we? My stormy weathered friend I hear you scream. I see your dreams untold. I love you. My stormy weather friend. When you’re wounded who will heal you?
United, They matched protesting non-violently, Teenagers and children, Fighting against anti-segregation, The filthiness of the ruling class, They could no longer sit and watch, As their homeland was destroyed These innocent souls, Unfortunately, Were victims of violence! Their homes had
But life isn’t perfect dude, At times, it hits hard on you. Because this roller coaster is crooked AF, And a ride of this kind you just can’t envisage! Nath less, you are the sailor of this very ship, And
Joy Slim, beautiful and humble Daughter of Felix & Angela, Sister to Tony She loves to sing, dance and play chess She feels Joyous, full of life & enthusiastic about life She is happy when helping the needy, in their
Eyes as hard as the hardest stone. Inscrutable, hide within secrets galore. The face, the same. But them hands, they lie. On a bed of lies her mind still rests, Waiting for a kick. Dystopia all around her. Or so,
The Seventh Day church built on the bend I curse at the perfection Alongside these potholes dug deep A cemetery for hope Down the road the Pentecostal one wore a hat It seems the years had stripped away all that
Saturday evenings reek of stale words, aching bones and a running out of things to feel dressed in a darkness where your silence meets mine and no sound seeps in through the fine crisscross weave of the blanket soggy with
Vexed at a long sit in, after collision we will meet at a canal in the watery grave. You believed in philosophy of giving I would apologize for the slaughter of babies. Pink dolls I wished to know why they
These sleazy intentions seem to kill more than those so-called “reported” serial orgasms. To say, -off the record- that you give me both… feels very disturbingly corrupt yet thats not why you see me blushing. can this burning betrayal flesh
The ocean of emotions, Are like the waves, Kissing the shore, With the tides returning, To bring back the feelings, Long lost and forgotten. Rolling like the waves, And dancing in sheer bliss, As they overlap the other, Rippling in
Oh my Moonflower! I am collecting the carcasses Of your love in my memoir. When the rites are over I shall find you across the island Floating in a boat of garlands. Trying to reach you in the other land
Everything has a time, A time to be, A time to become, And today it was ours! To be, Two starry-eyed lovers. The subtle smell of the bodies, That still lingers around. The passion that embodies, The souls in sound.
It fell like nothing before, and tried hard to quench the thirst, but every drop of it failed, whether the last..or the first…. The coolness was now a dream, the passion a haste, hence when it kissed the ground, it
They hold each others’ hands Walking down the lane Their hearts beating with praise Was it the season of rain? The water begins to pour In the silent night The boy appeals for a dance, in the starlight Hands held
Now, for long, I have lived with eyes that have never strayed in another’s. Now, for long, I have lived with silences that have never strayed into another’s. Now, I want to be, my love. Now, for long, I have
Let me navigate the resentment in non-verbal manner, I go in myself, dislocating the whole experience of goodness for vulnerability I was stung a hundred times into playing a role not of mine deceiving the life, which was on the
In the morning I miss my childhood In the mid day, the lunch We had together, In the evening the harmonious Sound of the musical tunes Of your talk, At night The short slumbers We had together, but now I