Calendar poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of calendar poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on calendar are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Writing on my sleeves, I visualize an invisible coupling of grassroots with starless sky, when I walk on the wailing earth. Hails big as sparrow eggs smash the bougainvillea blossoms. The wrestling clouds begin a storm. Witchcraft of the moon
The Democrats The baseball executives The cops The professionals and the experts and their assistants Swapping talking points and selling the deal Shoveling our infrastructure and our water to the rich as fast as you can Dispersing low grade food
Day comes and night follows Night goes and day comes Hours turn into days, days into months Every day that goes by Increases our age by days, months and years. From babies, we grow into young kids Then teens, followed
I think about the soft velvety eyes, Wet in wait- Of a resolve of distance. Yonder do they stare at- Looking for the clouds the eyes love. Blue sky gazes down at him too, Benign and protective of his space.
Whenever you’d ask me how much farther I’d always tell you we’re closer Than the last time you asked And this seemed to satisfy you You’d say, “ We’re closer?” “That’s right,” I’d say “Then how much longer?” you’d want
(1) A flower is a colorful scrabbling over a garden’s cheeks and a flying kiss into air. (2) A flower is a state of confusion, whenever a stigma erects up into a silky bed. (3) A flower is martyrdom on
By mid month I won’t even tell them that this is is last month’s issue The election calendar has not changed since then Prioritize our distribution with a few hundred a couple hundred more to develop the readership on the
At a liquid time flowing between two visions, Before we imprisoned our breaths inside cages of a calendar, Before bird feathers fell down into inkwells, Before we covered our dead with an elegy and a confusion written on papyrus leaves
Yearly, an obligatory tax on lovers, reminder to those without one. Florists, chocolatiers, jewelers, rejoice! Roses become scarce, and double in price. But, I found a way to fight the system. Lovers, romance follows no calendar, so please will you
I did not will them dreams of crystals a stupid calendar of flight from insomniac past. Do not want to return to future, hub of my clouds. History had been writhing and screaming. Present cannot redeem my woes. I ask
Along the road to an old city, within the wrinkles of mountains hanged by their heads, spiders are still spreading their webs at caves’ doors. Tales come out off embers, waiting for those who pass by. Canes which are forgetful
The box clatters with every sway of the automobile, My tummy feels like metals crushing together, freezing my teeth, The glasses shaking nonstop, feels like hell, Everywhere we step is a death trap, dodging several holes, The chauffeur, all red
THREE POEMS 1 NEW YEAR The dates on calendar question all my undone actions and memories that haunt or fade in nightly nakedness stumbling toward the next day’s sun without celebration at 65 January jeers my degenerating sex a still
Watching the wilting dividers, wanted to declock the time in timeless death: though life must move on. After amputation, body waits to be lifted, negating the bed. Now it was time, which would you like, nouns that hurt? Or verbs
Time will arrive again, unfair Events will vanish and good days will come. You will forget your scary canvas where Dark pictures of your battered soul cause Misgivings of the sunny days and glum Thoughts, tension always wrecks your puerile
As I walk this road Down campus life In perpetual mode Will I be a wife? Bitter roads ahead Made of highs and lows’ Hanging out with friends Throwing little blasted blows Dare I write a book Or graduate Give
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
They call it On to the quest of mysterious life; I have unlocked many treasures. Each one has its own story, Each one has its own say. Some gave me pleasures immense; Others chased the journey of woods intense. They
I would like to play music again Without recalling events attached to them I would like to visit places again Without remembering what happened there I would like to see the faces that I fell for again Without panicking at
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.
an ever lasting night, darkness etched everywhere. screams emanating, throughout the land. pain calls forth, sheer agony cleansing and purging, reaching beyond skies threatening souls, in this fear borne, in this night, silent suffering, silent contemplation, of the storms, following
Upon her bedroom wall she wades Serene in Homers blue waters Past the dormant white hulls at dry dock, She smiles Before autumn’s sienna strokes of the harbor flats She feels the tides’ hands bathe her. From beneath her comforter
The Laidly Wyrm came to Brighton Wood To celebrate her hatchling day Eleven centuries old she was On this the twelfth of may She’d left her lofty mountain home Forsook her prodigious hoard Unfurled her colossal beating wings As into
Since when, Haven’t you smiled, I wish I had known. Since when, Have you been drinking away, Swallowing your fears, Treasuring your tears.. I wish I had known. I stand in front of you, And I cannot stop the endless
In the service of flesh new vision was perfecting a cult; silence was going home. It was not there freedom of defense for bread, but I must pay the price of hunger. The oblique afterthought compelled by nocturnal infidelity picks
You know the hardest things in life. Is to be supportive to a person who has serious problems and will not admit in having them. Life is like a streaming water flowing and still but deeper than and angry waves.
Tonight sleep was not coming to me. Tears had washed the splinters out of the bruised eyes. It was becoming extremely hard to pulversize the legacy, the tendrils of violence. Wrapped in white shrouds the bodies were laid out on
Feeling so sleepy, I’m alone In a flower garden. With problems unsolved, Seeking external help. All of a sudden Something invisible, an Unheard voice Touched my heart. Softly and Gently, Troubles fled away. flowering trees shone Giving hope for fruits.
Envision freedom as a circle spanning three hundred and sixty degrees And sitting at the circle’s center you are at liberty to swivel and tilt at will Mesmerized by the seemingly limitless opportunities that beckon Within each degree a fountainhead
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
Here are some things that make me smile My lip corners upturn when these come into mind Amazing as the rainbow stained glass tiles And also simple as a little bird’s first flight Try to think of a refreshing, blazing
The call came into my blood through a darkening on a hot morning rumble of traffic cleared like a party when everyone stops talking that first deep cough came a long way that glint could have been sun on chrome