Bowl poems bring the best collection of short and long bowl poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great bowl rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these bowl poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on bowl are here for you.
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?
Well there’s Hooverville on the edge of the river haint nuttin boot flimsy cardboard e’en with clothes will shiver waiting for tension to be released like a arrow in a taut quiver major organs ready to burst open cuz day
A bowl of butter, dough, eggs and sugar come together, Mix till the consistency is right, you’ll figure. Next, molten chocolate you will take, Add to the bowl, not a drop you must forsake! The contents of the bowl you
One fine evening as we sat around, our spirits gay, She came towards us, palms bowl-shaped, eyes accustomed to implore, Though filled with anguish, yet determined, they seemed to say, “A tiny morsel, a little coin, nothing more!” Though the
you are not insane enough to write the colorful cichlids of your thoughts are hidden in the bowl with the gray marbles you used to think were dead mens’ eyes then maybe ancient Greek bullets you used to be able
With endless poverty gleaming in their eyes, Dreams, desires and will to live; Everything has faded to get fled, In a beggar; a living dead, A zombie on the streets. With an affirmative urge in hesitation, Cohesively willing to die
Dear Bird, my bosom friend, Preach me thy living-art Weaned of all wicked craft, Enable wash filthy taint, Unveil yet another phase, My own – still hidden- face ! Thus, living a truer life -To the content of heart and
Keep my journal short. Just review January through March. Life is a dig, deep snow on my sorrow. Bare bones of naked sparrows, beneath my balcony, lie lifeless. The few survivors huddle in bushes. Gone, gone is kitchen bowl that
Cuddled under a warm, toasty quilt, Chewing on a bag of gummy bears with no guilt. Making the perfect mud cake, Watching the sunlight glisten off a lake. Letting myself go insane, To fight all things mundane. Cooking a delightful
If erupts again – the eternal hate of caucuses. A pipe bomb detonates in a gulley. Death glides as a superman like a mutiny in the bowl. Night stumbles against the kissing moon on the shore of waning hope. I
Hi there,I’m your “Little Bit”of a muffin king.To keep my”Little Bit”of a fur coat clean, I tie a “Little Bit”of an apron around my waist. For my grandma I’m creating a surprise!Grandma loves bran muffins. Bran muffins are grandma’s favorite.”King
You want the girl that wears pretty flowing dresses and floral Vans. Not the girl who wears mismatched brightly coloured trainers With odd socks and jumpers that would be more suited a boy on the Nickelodeon channel in 1996. You
The last corn popped expansively Unnecessarily loud, in a paper bag on a round glass base In a ten year old microwave (a good tool); Jennifer awaits, our first night in, alone together Her parents are at the cinema; her
Between the zeros and the ones, a paisley tablecloth is spread, and atop it rest white lace napkins, the yellow butter and the butter knife, the wine glasses, the teacups, the water jug filled with ice – a mundane scene
I am not sure if you enjoy stew or not. But it’s one of my favorite things. You take some of your favorite meat and bring it to a simmer, along with a couple vegetables and a couple seasonings. Chopped
Sunday, the ‘Holy Day’, declared by the ‘Old Testament’ After the hard work of the universal creation, for six days, Continuously from Monday to Saturday, fulfilling everything, From a ray of light, sea, sky, earth and all living and nonliving
I. My heart is a well within which clear waters rise if it rains, mixed with mud. The moon inside it grows and dwindles continuously. She breaks for me her bread, I share with her my water. The more dreams
Sometimes I imagine, I am free: free to come out from a diagram, to bring inside out. Ultimately rescued from the ancestors, and ready to face my unborn children. An apparition sneaks in. Transgender? Half human, half god? There is
If tomorrow never comes for me, I want you to know that we sat on the constellations and watched Aquarius Serve the stars with a bowl of the fountain of youth and forever They lit our faces while Cygnus collected
Like I want to erase the fear before I light a remote fire in the blue veins. Actually this was the crisis of self pride in manic depression seeking the anonymity of toes tracing the footpath. Becoming a paper-boat in
I My five-five-fingers of my hands Zestfully lived In serenity. The three thrill fingers of my right hand: Thumb, index finger and middle finger Stoutly lived civilly and gleefully Amongst her BROTHERS: They rested gleefully upon the placid, SHARP-SABLE-POINTED-DART. II
Situation of inflation. Betrayal saturates your current fate. Destiny can no longer wait. Your enemies deceive and hate. Objectify a small white lie. An unanswered why. People and things fall apart. Torn in half with broken hearts. Salvage pieces to
I can not move, so my inane soul Lumbering on grass bed, wonderfully separated. Above me the scorching June afternoon Tearing apart my very self, baking my budding marigolds. Mine fettered hands with numerous wants On vain quest of fetching
Your cheeks, in red ochre rouged In dimples, the scarab dew slurps Eyes and teeth, a white flash sleight Stretch marks, varicose crossed, like The Anaconda’s swallowing strains. Your life restless, the nose suffocates Dawn disrupts as the feathers ruffled.
When hope returns, will you be in alternative mind? Like a praying mantis brooding for a prey in a bowl of momentum while I have a sense of alienation collecting a cloud of Memories ripping open the gates of tears
“Don’t whisper something in my ear, So sweet your voice be, that I’ll collapse, Together we be, just you and I, till eternity, No worry, no care about the time lapse. Don’t you appear in the bowl of my eye,
Have you ever thought, what Life is all about? Going through the sacred books and various philosophical tales, Here is the conclusion I drew: Life is all about taking risks, Life is all about joining dots, Completion of one task
A sunny day on the river Ouse was chasing away the blues Sure, nothing to lose Divine muse Joy We really enjoyed our little cruise drinking coffee and some booze Sure, nothing to lose Divine muse Boy What a life!
Your absence was left beside me for the white salt, unsolicited, unbroken wants. Asking to return the dried roses pressed between the pages of talking book. Counting only the dying fireworks the hissing sparks, left in the unwrapped bones and
Intangible and Two/Intangible and Choice/The Disappearing Cave I’ve arrived at an impasse. It is, yet again, time to decide. To decide on the moldings of your innards and the facade oriented outwards. What to do, oh what to do? Sunshine
A scourge Of mankind. Hate A person Before we talk and walk That is no way Right. It is every way Wrong. want a special kind Of prejudice. wish to pre-judge Everyone beautiful Lovely gorgeous Redeemed Forgiven And love them
While you are engrossed by a mourned silence within, Abruptly! You get caressed by a love, like a Ghost orchid, and you glide along, submissively! He is an enchanter to the astray, and like a wild fire, on an iceberg,