Campaign poems bring the best collection of short and long campaign poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great campaign rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these campaign poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on campaign are here for you.
They lie about my looks, That I have horns, an ugly face, scary, That my haven is ever burning screams, burnt flesh, Yuck! I’m beautiful, handsome, all you will ever want, If its wealth, who can outweigh me? Luxurious houses,
Europe my realm and my prized possession, I instill in thee our novel ideals, for your feudal laws our conquest repeals. Our boisterous wind of emancipation liberates Spain from draconian inquisition. Of the proud Brit’s stupendous earning power, an Egyptian
Beneath the lipstick, make-up and behind the smile, She is just a model who poses before you; for a while; Between the lines; below the sentences; She domains, Dressed up in white, with an angelic look; she remains. Human or
Did you foresee it? It was coming. The freaked guilt of failed attempt to get yourself kissed by a flame in the androgynous temptation of dark. One legitimate delay in dying of moon’s tears? The weather had fizzled out during
In the road to the South, which hasn’t ended yet, from the yet not finished North, at the ball’s surface which had lost its center and produced sacred shrines fighting each other all along the road, there, that white tree
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
They were teaching how to butcher the lamb and suspend the bines with drooping hops. I climbed out of my ashes towards a marinated moon turned blue in consternation. Warts and all, here we were ready to pick up the
Hero never whispers, makes all clear Before man born were in ancient world lies? They say it wasn’t solid transmission Words been spoken aloud Slow pictures out of focus getting sharp Surrounded stiffness of plenty spikes You live in the
They said, “Never!”, as Noah announced the incredulous. Noah said, “It’s going to rain”, to all who would listen They shouted in unison, “Never has it been, nor ever shall it be! Water comes from creeks, ponds, rivers, and from
Sometimes I feel like a princess Even when My hair’s a mess The morning dew has dried Before I stumble from slumber Haphazard teeth brushing Scrappy tee shirt, bikini tied Splash Water on face Awake! Princess comes alive Where the
This is my home large, colorful, abstract real paintings on the wall a reflection or deflection from the self? Light gasping for life emitting from the lamp brushing past the faces so bright This is my home A sanctuary of
2,000 AND SOMETHING YEARS LATER We still need him more than ever… Of course his wasn’t the best of times but Things just keep getting worse and now It’s here to you’re and mine… Well and I just can’t stand
Just like a Bonsai you stand strong and tall, Despite being just five feet tall. You rise high and refuse to yield, In rain and stormy weather, offering the best shield. You let us blossom and fruit, Ensuring we stay
Take these hot pavements To my horizon of unborn secrets Beating down like a drum Never mind that scorching sun Together, we’ll run. The proliferation we seek Like a soft photosynthesis Blooming in this parched desert What do you think?
I walked the roads, and followed every path When at last there was no more I ventured still to pass With hands outstretched and dreams held tight I walked the path into the night I found my way and prayed
I entered into this crazy world from your womb, You gave me birth, by giving your breath, You forgot all your pain by seeing my face, “Oh My Sweet Heart” -Nothing is great in-front of you in this world!! You
What is the gain to have a humble maid As a dweller of this heart adventurous? That every moment fondly craves to raid Untrodden meadows of her mind and trespass. The meagre passion, say I thee, then bores The lovers’
a facsimile of torture candlelit in moony dark i want to unread the anointed death on this tip of an arrow, here it comes the hissed phrase wrenching the gut – for conceptual withdrawl, dawn of dark secrets without footprints
A cinder, neither coal nor ash, my life, clogs the roots of swaying carnations. Fear, like a cheetah, runs faster than discretion. Helplessly you tear off the last page of the book without reading the end. One petaled coral, green,
Have I been born of a curse; Rehearse The station just burst, A hole through it first; So it is like to be at the mercy, of this jury decided on perjury. A trial without annihilating the evil inside me,
Time over time the shattered heart mended, awakening a possibility unknown Truth does not manipulate a shallow hope is shown… Time grew into a vine of sourness, prejudice coaxed the rot, prayers for retaining innocence… went hush ….like the silenced
I was a little kid, reading books, listening to my grandpa and grandma, telling stories about the rainbow. I was fond of it, I was even sharing it, Drawing about it even if I am not good in painting it.
The fragility and passion that emits blood as viscous and crimson as the hue and cry of her inhabitants… The sad, tormented and sorrowful soul of this groaning entity of life and death with her terminal sickness… That hangs, suspended…and
I’ve ruined the knife set apparently, there were five and now there are four. ‘It’s not my knife set to diminish’, no ones mentioned the stain on the floor! Perhaps because I used bin bags, made an effort for which
Thou bare beauty’s bride of immortals Thou enrapt silence of mystery, who can’t tell thy flowery history And Fair Youth? And unstinted admiration thou bear, All profuse versifiers to thy truth begotten, They lie; of thy mystic gracious beauty, swear.
We the highest of God’s creation we the knower of many, the holders of the eternal flame of knowledge. Universe still unrolling its sacred secrets. is it this pride which made us blind? so blind that no light permeates our
Shedding the wholeness of negation you arrive: fear was sweeping the floor when smoke screen of love was hung on blue morning, you groped for a hidden coin, lost in the woods of mania. Distinguishing a chaste word, without thought,