Boomerang poems bring the best collection of short and long boomerang poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great boomerang rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these boomerang poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on boomerang are here for you.
The boomerang bird is back with us again, the tireless sickle, slashing swathes of wind inflicting wounds with wicked scything wings, shrieking summer’s swift ecstatic pain. It flings itself at frightened insects, flies on whittled blades, deadly smooth and fast,
Fiendish and gruesome phantasmagoric denizens Dwell deep inside subterranean vault perform an evil dance Haunt psychic landscape with imaginary (yet realistic) Gargoyle visitations that cast a macabre trance Nocturnal unconscious invaders cavort and gallivant Disturb quiescent sleep with devilish and
Like every morning, he has just returned from his office and is right in-front of one of his roommate and so called friend’s lappy’; Going through all previous messages sent by her on Facebook. No doubt, his life has been
People are more precious than things you own. Should not be picked up ‘n put down like a telephone. They can be emotionally fragile, so handle with care, don’t cast them off, ignore As a lost cause or beyond repair.
It’s seven- -Syllables too quiet And I twitch– From teachers on my hand Open– close- Open– close Canyons of flesh Etch pain for remembrance To the familiarity, Of skin that dances To sun-kissed residues. Sleeping Shroudily With meadow-blossom Tethered by
Respect has no face, no color, no race, It should be given to everyone by everyone. Respect should not require one to divert from their own morals and values, It should not depend on your amount of income or the
There is a river by the mountains, Covered by the deep dark forest. There is a river by the mountains, Where tired travellers take rest. There is a river by the mountains, Which flows like a lonely soul. There is
lucky are those women, who are married to someone they love. lucky are those women, who are free to be themselves lucky are those women, who are told YOU ARE SPECIAL lucky are those women, who are told YOU ARE
Whispered names falling simply off lips, Freckles that ripple on skin, Azure eyes that flooded dreams. Eyes may capsize stable thoughts, Blindly wade into unknown waters, Not knowing awaiting dangers. A siren’s melody put in a trance, A map to
I wonder how the pyramid was made People were amazed because of its shape It looks so perfect, I wanna see it Oh! Pyramids of Egypt Why so rich in history? Its structure remains a mystery What I can see
Crafted in a fine web like Gossamer design… DREAMWORK on a star stream In a timeless circle, circling the Great nebula divine, third eye Projection, rowing in stardust And in the river of Eridanus… Well the dream has just begun
Sitting by reminiscing how was once in past Cheery since lost epochs deemed forever to last Life was full of promises future not cared about None any compulsions not be done without Endearments unfaltering of birds, bees and rest Each
Casting off the shores, bound for faraway lands. Setting sail on dark seas, uncertain, unknown the travails that await. Crew steeled for adventure exploration fame glory. No turning back. Humanity departing. Longships rising, slow gracefully plumes of power moving beyond
Go beyond the past. Go beyond the present.. Will you love me when night Falls and nordic winds blow All those drunken eyes out? When those cleansed people Wandering through other times And places, look around aimlessly In search of
To the twinkling star, so far away. I cannot reach as I pray! For safety in your present state, Amongst a land of hate! Tears glaze my eyes,I reminisce our growing up. Denial fills my mind, I refuse to believe.
Can you see me? As I lie vulnerable on the rigid floor with you? Can you feel the fear that radiates from my trembling body? The piercing cries echoing in my mind are deafening, but my voice has lost it’s
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
Speechless I stood with fumbling words from my quivering lips…. My deadened heart almost wrenched, My cloudy eyes almost to rain…. The writhing pain gushing through my entire soul….. I am being a part from myself My parts melting in
The tride says you reside here with my snow All of your brighest hair, been tarnished with rust You hardly knew I can discem your daisies grow Where your heart alone has fallen to my dust When the moon rages,
Life….This is not a fairy tale that we all dream of, fantasize or speculate it to be. Nobody promises us that, not even God. Life is an amalgamation, of those really fantastic, fanciful, sometimes phenomenal, remarkably awesome days and of
Old wretched feeling stares in face again A stab with intensity of same chronic pain Attempt to disregard hopelessly turns vain Enduring is only salve for alleviating strain Since none to relate to acceptance must learn Agony stays constant deep
Is it springtime brewing gentle raindrops or autumn bringing sea-salt aroma or snowy whispers from a wintry mountain peak reluctant to prophesy those true prophecies during the middle age of the night, as if they may over-heal and crack my
Leaping with fearless joy as I begin afresh to dance You are my lover, not happenstance I’m watching and waiting to glean his gaze His winsome articulate amazing ways He’s gloriously giving and infinitely kind When surrendering living, his heart
How will you carry the mount of tears in the vally of temples? Kites flowing in sky of beings-egos-denials and repeals. Smiling at pain I unspeak to a keeper of cage, under the shadow of golden roses, walking with blue
Here I am, Standing in the dock once again. For the evil one had sought and gotten an appeal of God’s prior judgement. With his legal standing, The devil named me as the respondent. And intiatiated the service of progress
The hot, impartial, clean rays of the sun are falling on all things, equally. Their impartiality is questioned by the small shrubs and grasses, growing freely in the dark homey shade of the big, proud trees. Who are soaking up
A new twilight I see each day, Through the echos of broken mirrors, The whites are all blood stained, The lights are getting dimmer The wounds are fresh and open, The glass so clear and sharpened, As they pierce through
Drifting high on a gentle breeze and grazing the tops of lofty trees, watching below, all the people move but there’s nothing left, up here, to prove. Floating higher and into the clouds, the sultry silence so deafeningly loud. Throbbing
The wind’s whisper rejoices, The oceans roar with praise, The sun magnifies Your glory, And the earth below is filled with glad tidings. Before time even began, You would know me intimately, And yet, I cannot help but to still
This poem hates you. This poem thinks you’re dirt. What does it look like down there? What does the ground taste like? This poem is tough. This poem is hard. This poem is hate. How does that make you feel?