Celebrations poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of celebrations poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on celebrations are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Once my husband brought a pair of white pigeons, Very beautiful with red eyes and lush red beaks. Extremely gorgeous with glorious visions, In our mother tongue we call it Laqa-kabootar. A special species of sweet white pigeons, In golden
It is that time again for all we have lost to be regained and our weaknesses to be strengthened and bent choices to be straightened. Come join me, let us rejoice make your choice because life is what we make
“A young, bubbly lass once I saw, Tall, dusky and a charming smile she wore. Like all little girls, she waited in anticipation, Of a handsome young man, Who’d love her like no one. Her little follies he would overlook,
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?
A queer experience it is A feeling that defies description An emotion beyond expression Giving a daughter away , you don’t know how to name it . Is it a sense of self appreciation at having performed a parental duty
On birth, crying makes our entry On death, silence marks our exit In between our birth and death turmoils all the while exist We celebrate Birthday with pomp and excitement Trauma of life preceding the birth day are kept in
There is a woman I love, I call her my sister We spent only two years, little time together Yet, as the time passed we grew closer On the first day in hostel, a late night conversation Soon turned into
Smudged on the horizon, Beneath the uncaring gray clouds, Farewell of the year Fireworks set out, And the ink drips down to nothingness. Life goes on. But pain has the gift of rekindling, And heart is it’s faithful torchbearer –
Friend, not a companion but one who understands. Years, distance and time does not come between us. How pleasant are our sparse reunions. You’ve comforted, have always been there for me. Not only in my hour of need but also
Life appears routine during normal times routine changes to celebrations on festivals routine may turn into agony on death routine may suddenly appear monstrous on set backs routine may feel soothing on day of disturbances routine may look un harmful
The crowd buzzed like a hornet’s nest The cacophony too loud The girl on stage was all alone Staring beyond the crowd The colours around All red and yellow meant to reflect The bridal glow Spectators sitting Speculations were rife
Are angelic neurons fleshing inside a trans-Inquisition tavern? Another kind of speaking, pontificating globe? Can we feel the burning and sexing of the four seasons with the four elements, recycling earth, water, air, fire, to produce the quintessence of your
Let us go then, you and I… Let us go then… Tired? Surprisingly, we have been saying this a hundred years. It haunts. The hallucination continues. No, it leap-frogs. Eliot was dead before I was born, before we were born.
Walked into the sun, He. With weak flesh. A storm was raging on burning sands. In hollow of his knees gravel was hitting hard. He moved inwards in trance Visionary, homeless, life in open was blessing. A huge crowd followed
I have Killed and pillaged Plundered and pilloried Raped and destroyed Beauty and innocence In its purest form Nature… Her plaintive cries When she trembled And quaked And melted, Her pleas Have I ignored And now I must pay. Through
The hardest thing I have ever done was say goodbye to you Reckless words spoken, a desperate act of an unknowing fool Time doesn’t heal all wounds, only those of flesh and bone A broken heart will easily shatter, no
If you close your eyes to the world outside, will the fighting suddenly cease? Will brother and sister hold hands together and build a new life of peace? Does a person, born blind, not hear the teeth grind as disaster,
Past days were awesome, Lost months were like blossom. Filled with love, joy, gain sometimes with tears, rains and some pain. Life like a bird knows how to fly, teaches not to give up , give it one more try.
Evening wore a floral dress. Blue birds announced their departure opening red wings. You know them, buffs of night who would not wait for the moon to rise and I had nothing to hide. These tragic toes black with gangrene
“So finally, he got talking, As if his patience had succumbed. The one who’s closest to me, Well, on a physical level, for sure; against whom I press my cheek. Who I’ve spent innumerable nights with. Sometimes, he brings along
Not necessarily a palatial edifice- it may not be a fifty or a hundred room structure, it may not come in a multiple layers of concrete steel columns or colonnades. It may not be architecturally beautiful like those in sub-urban
Upon a child’s first cry Upon boy/girl getting laurels When father gets promotion When a new house is bought When the first poem is published When love is reciprocated When good food is served When a beggar gets sufficient alms
Again I scare myself of the very thing. Moon was landing on lake for inward probe. One presaged silence, speaks, of the veracity of lovers to grass, where no dropp drives a sun, the red bricks build a shade. Ragweed
We all seek something bigger than us Something strong our hearts can trust Greater than what we can understand So great our hearts could bend Something far from the usual Definitely not what our minds used to know But what
Cruel winter winds and snowy storms have almost reached their end, and country roads all topped with slush, an ice and water blend. I see the thawed cold earthen roads all sprouting shoots of green, and garden gates long frozen
They called me a lunatic They told that my ideas were unrealistic They concluded that my opinions were inappropriate They condemned me that I was doomed to hell I knew that I was sane I told myself that my ideas