Carnage poems bring the best collection of short and long carnage poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great carnage rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these carnage poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on carnage are here for you.
An attack with hatred and ferocity killed many people, how disdainful blind eyes with no sign of fraternity killed outright teenagers, how painful Parents who lost their children shed tears of blood in mournful an act against the faith of
Death; The Dealer of the final deck of life. No hidden agendas, just a cold slate to wipe. With hand and sword or with rock and stone, with shaft sailing deadly through grey skies, alone. The smarter the weapon, the
Lovers of death were on prowl: nothing was finished.Smart words were bouncing back. Quotes by the fire had stripped down the carnage. More bombs in courtyard and hope was confronting death. Few branded names were causing rift in the ranks
O Little angel O little angel from tranquil galaxy of rebirth coming through milky sky ways to land on the human earth singing merry Christmas songs with basket of wonderful toys some for her innocent girls and some for naughty
A family gathering, a party so bright with revelers dancing well into the night. Everyone filled with joyful mirth, role models all; the salt of the earth. Lost in their laughter with a roof to raise, failing to see his
Let it be, a dawn prayer, dripping with fantasy intercepting the strip-search of soul tempting a mad psyche. The sleeping volcano was going to celebrate, put the sign on. Perfectly shineless hands will raise the banner to donate kidneys, eyes
Happy women’s day! Are the women really happy? What is happiness anyway? This is the story of a nice girl. She is a good student, Docile daughter, Protected by male members Of her concerned family Chaperoned everywhere she goes Is
What is normal? We live in a world where everything seems normal. It’s normal to have two eyes and one head. It’s normal to live on a ball floating in a limitless void. It’s normal to have two sexes for
Come Naga, come: from the scented tree and spread out your hood. I will pull you down on my lips One day. Classical porn, Neanderthal. In your stark nakedness I wanted an asylum. A place guiltless, hands blackened, moony face,
My God, thanks for the love You brought my way, Also, for joys received as caring grows, Should harsher times make me recall this day, These too, become moments unfazed by woes; Thanks for the gardens made lush by Your
In my trials and tribulations Be they however great I’ll forever own the splendor In the sanctity of faith You, my precious God Are my hope, guide and way Throughout this realm of ruin Where I patiently remain You amplify
It’s not the wealth Which could give you pleasures. That would be worldly. It’s not a job Which could make you satisfied, That would be just a living. People come and go. Some hold dear to heart, Rest are worth
Soil, Don’t be fertile more, Don’t be a mother; Child-traffickers, like mad dogs, are moving everywhere. Don’t conceive any green more, Don’t conceive any forest; The blue-eyed woodcutters, like butchers, are sharpening their axes. O Soil, Rather become a desolate
Your lips so soft and red; The thought of kissing you is stuck in my head. Your beauty so bright and warm; Shining through the darkest storm. Your eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky; When I stare into
You’ll often see them running and chasing across the plains, a rabbit skipping and laughing at an eagle, in great pains. But why’s the eagle running, surely he can fly? Sadly he’s afraid of heights and frightened he may die.
The days are peaceful in our streets, schools of pupils upon their seats But when night draws in, it’s a different story, crowds of teenagers in their glory. They start to gather on the neighbours’ wall and begin kicking their
She glides through air, though she is claimed by everything and everyone. Mind and matter are hers, for she is their fount. She has no name, but every name begins with and ends into her… She’s lighter than light itself,
I’m a twisted echo In a suicidal prayer, Toxic, dark, and damp Empty thoughts, a musical despair. Demon’s start to whisper softly In an eerie yet, enchanted lullaby, A need to numb the pain within me I dance with the
Though I clearly see Paralleling traits, Corresponding facets Astonishingly quaint This complex, albeit moving, Prominent connection Holds a minute blemish Worthy of reflection. Contrast, yes there’s one, A distinction can be drawn, For you’re rarely right, While I’m never wrong!
I am the Peacock, the beautiful bride of the bird kingdom. I am in no doubt fairer than the cock for I dwarf its pride with feathers that stand-out. I am the Peacock who desires serfdom from the bird kingdom,
My mind is a place, and often I’m told Those who would venture are far more than bold Vast twisting caverns of darkness and light Thoughts in a jumble with no wrong or right Fear and disorder, perfection and truth
Get out, Outrageous fiend! Forget everything that was once there Understand it is nothing to wear Constants now becoming variables Killing like animals; everyone inside. You shalt not see my face no more originally, I thought you a bore Understand,
In my mind’s eye, I see the humiliation of you. How you endured all that hatred of the world. As we sinned in glorious splender, with much to do You silently suffered and hurled Us towards salvation, as each hammer
5am, the vending machine rattles, groans, collapses Violently, I kick it, yell at it, shake it The green tea can is grinning at me, mocking me. A passerby opens his fresh can of beer he sees me desperate for a
A journey undertaken on destination suspect No direction to follow unsure what to expect Trudge seems endless unclear full of doubts Adding to quandaries of dreaded kind bouts All but me as company be done on one’s own None pointed
How will it change when we know? How will civilization be rearranged? All that we known comes from one place and time, one little speck in space. Great religions over eons have arisen telling all how things must certainly be.
As light raindrops pat mildly on my hair, Reminding of the April drizzles felt; A heavier pour could drench in disrepair, Romantic strolls to fizzle or to melt; We watched torrents pelt our favorite tree, To gush off the boughs,
One wardrobe malfunction was a blast, a kill; undressing imagination. I was ready for an ambush. Like boa’s grip, entwined, strangulating, hardly breathing. I am in blue water like a humpback whale; do not go for the revenge. It was