Borders poems bring the best collection of short and long borders poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great borders rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these borders poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on borders are here for you.
(1) Tents are crowded by windows, but missing walls and a jasmine flower. (2) A window is a border between consciousness and sub-consciousness, between Ego and its annihilation. (3) A home without a window is a blind man with no
The train has already departed, From the country that they call yesterday, Into the territories uncharted, Leaving behind the remains of the day. Leaving behind the sobbing hills and churches, And nurseries full of sighing, And forests of ashen pines
To come crashing through the gates of hell, look the demon in the eye and casually yell! Total defiance in every breath as you stare down into the dungeons of death. Never before have you shaken my goals or been
Wake up in the morning with no stress,feeling love in excess even forgot my address forget all the bad of men with no regrets turn around on my bed touch my woman and compliment her nightdress touching her hips and
Just say no to corrupt politicians, lying and cheating with their secret missions. Hugging the baby in the camera’s eye then stealing its lolly and watching it cry. Just say no to the corrupt EU, actually achieving what Hitler failed
How far? How far the goodness will survive? Born to suffer, a troubled mind was punished, for melting down. Livid with revenge sun bleaches the man-made God, a personal anger. Executioner was on the street lighting bonfires of your principles.
Imagine a world of love and laughter; of fun filled days and freedom till after the tea time call or the playtime bell, get back into line or you’ll catch some hell. Imagine a world of wonder and jest; of
You were standing alone In a crowded room And going round in my head The same old tune. Eyes of cold sapphire Holding me stark, In the dark despair Of a panther’s stare. Futile attempts To move, to turn The
Their gossip is a debauched addiction, Aided by an imagination, so absurd… The borders amid actuality and fiction; Whizzes away, swift as an agile bird! They are uncaring for infliction caused, Or for the aftermath of tears and turmoil… For
Trampling the borders, he started losing his vibrations. He was asking for the perpetual forgiveness for his bandaged ego. The new incarnation. For the broken homes he refused to admit his side of guilt and jumped into the frozen lake
(Britain, post-referendum) Dear Mister Prime Minister, Was it worth it? Was it worth cutting off Our country’s trade benefits, our commodity trade, Like the testicles of a prizewinning bull? Was it worth it? Was it worth tightening our borders, Like
Gingerbread, Jellybean and KitKat with tiny sims, Safely secured in everyone’s pocket like magical plastics ; We carelessly treasure these gags, As if we could preserve them; For an entire life it seems. Our helpless youth’s every moment, Is glued
On the blue icicles you were colliding with orbiting electrons naked legs on the rocking chair were expecting the visual words to spook for clairvoyance with the sun decline beyond borders my eyes are damp, I know the bottom was
Angelic, able-bodied and adventurous amateurs aimed awkwardly at associates after attempting another assassination. Beleaguered, beaten and broken beasts barely breathing; bathed in beautiful basins. Begging became boasting beyond borders and busty brides blushed before being bought by bashful brutes. Camps
(1) My grandmother, may God have his mercy on her, still keeps the role of the hero; her face wrinkles are a leather book open to all interpretations; the falling of her teeth are the lost evidence on present time;
My unborn girl and I Live within each other‘s spheres She has carried me first after all. Out of night’s numinous dream My mother comes down Spiral celestial stairs. “Look what I bring you” A little girl in tow. A
Sitting on an elevated hilly place on a bright sun shine day and gauging the far away sea , seeing its borders touching the skies, Watching the movement of vehicles down below on a well developed city with multiple sky
A transfixed agony sometimes denies, To cross the borders of pleading eyes, Abstracting with it’s hue their salient desires, In illusions of depths mystifies, In undiscovered tongues, secretly carves, Lamentations of unborn goodbyes! Of reflecting truths are liquors blamed, When
Winter has the taste of melancholy; my window puts on a cloak of glass, wraps its face with a shawl of lead and drops cold tears, each time universe shrinks. (2) Migrant birds have a travelling homeland in sky and
There was a soul-searching after a negative assassination tearing my past, my future. Beneath the burden lies the mountain of bail-outs. You don’t feel whole in shadows of countings. The borders were breached for lavish darkness alive under the full
This path. This path glows with vibrant hues, Bathed in the morning glow and full of the most Stimulating fragrance. It leads and I follow, I care not where I go, for this road has me in the deepest entrancement.
What they told us about Capitalism: We were told capitalism creates wealth, we were told capitalism brings the best in man, and with it, individual’s potentials are certainly attainable; we were told individual dreams and aspirations easily come to fruition
A poem discovers itself along the line Toggle an image Free from a fabric of words And a poem unravels, whole and complete.. There’s the marble bench halfway down the Azalea Way, and nearby in a white leaf magnolia, a single silk veil
Champagne bubbles , Glasses tingles I hear cheers of joyful mingles, Toasting to they who lives for gingle . Dance with me under the moon light, Fall on my lips your crystal drizzles , molten in your arms as I’m
We always glorify the bygone days We refuse to believe the present is as beautiful and worthy as past We Live mostly in past and dream only of the future We tend to overlook the past sufferings and only remember
He and I (a subtle amateur attempt at understanding Narcissism) He loved himself and I loved him He believed he was superior and I was happy to be his shadow He wanted all the attention and I always showered it
She’s our little-fairy-queen For whom we did pine. A wail thro’ her lips Brings us flocking to her crib. To assuage that helpless gaze, On that sweet innocent face. A smile breaks her wail On a familiar face to hail.
Waiting under the opaque moon a primeval instinct takes over you and you start arriving. A black bone renders the ash on your forehead and you complete the circle – reaching childhood; you start climbing the ladder, for instantaneous release.
What is like a smooth Paved road and I speeding In a silver Rolls Royce? The rich and the fast Are beyond reach Beyond reach there is no hope As my silver Rolls Royce accelerates The paupers are blurred The
Her wings were tidy, a little flutter now and then, She was always so close, to finally grasp her dream, So, when that day had finally come, that woman’s wings were clipped, She needed to let go, therefore, she flew
Even when the night air is calm and still you can hear the wailing of women from the past that flung themselves off of WIDOW’S HILL to the cold, cold ocean below and legend has it at Collinwood they’re waiting
Your appearance was so subtle and sweet So much so that I didn’t notice you Until April 2nd You were but a flutter in my stomach, The caterpillar before the butterfly. The doctor said you were blooming Beautifully. That’s why
Inspiration, a nest of love, robust, tough, and polite, the queen of queens, and its only right, yet I feel wrong, for in this life, I was not able to treat you right, all the diamonds in this earth do