Centriolum poems bring the best collection of short and long centriolum poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great centriolum rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these centriolum poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on centriolum are here for you.
Never in those sizzling conflicts displaying the pink eyes you were able to reach me. Was it metagenesis, forgetting your selfhood? Fragments of a beast were floating on sea. Was umblicus of death broken in the crotch of a mother?
We are all wayfaring travelers, Trudging down our separate roads, Hoping, wishing praying, Someone will come and share our load. There are sunburns on our shoulders, And blisters on our feet, We brave the wildest blizzards, And the scorching summer
Simmering on a distant shore, my minds eye floats upon. Swirling thought upon swirling thought do my reflections grow. Infinite realms offer fertile grounds to burrow through. Mountains of realities the minds eye sees one as real as them all.
(1) A cigarette is a green tale inside a white coffin; Her shoe is a hat, its end a line of smoke. (2) A cigarette is milk falling from breasts; Mouths are swings hanged on Oedipus complex. (3) A cigar
Nothing captivates me Other than your intimidating eyes Like they are meant to hypnotize Sometimes mysterious, sometimes cheerful Sometimes hiding the pain behind the moist Yet perfectly beautiful are your angel eyes. Just as if this wasn’t suffice God blessed
In the art of letter writing, is a hand that writes it, pouring out the heart, through a sea of beautiful feelings, surrendering the soul. It is like an intricately woven lace of intense emotions, across the flowery page, that
The moon grasped my heart tonight! Like the glow of a burning lamp It gleams in a mantle of delight Beneath the clouds of misty damp Like a wandering eye that glances To every nook and corner streets A silent
the first is touch losing touch sense of touch losing softness losing abrasions… in dark amputation… this is how it was, my mother did not die, just detached, gradually less tenuously linked to life, until there was no link… now
It was the middle of winter. A crisp white morning. Birds trilling in high pitched notes. Did their little feet get cold? I wondered, as I walked by listening to their sweet tunes. Deep in thought, a car horn peeped,
It was conducted on a global scale, taking billions of years in local space time. Mere moments in the time of the Initiators. Their quantum computers able to crunch numbers beyond human comprehension. The simulation experiment would be run in
Cold morning, eleven it was before the Christmas Eve, I picked my bag and wallet, To buy some Christmas gifts, Checklist, bucket list, lists in hand I had, Smile in heart that reflected in my eyes. Warm I was feeling
She watches him, every move sucks in his atmosphere, she fakes petty unconcern listless, restless encircling the prey spinning her web.. He sees all, walks away still faking it, she retreats smudging the smug hibernating until the next one lands.
I hid my face securely between the soothing palms of Mother Earth, And passed by, the world without caring, taunting and laughing, Some do stop just to ask, “Hi joker, feeling pity for your maker?”, But I stay as dead
I am watching flock of birds flying, gradually start disappearing. It makes me feel small and incapable. It’s not about the flying ability, it’s about the freedom. I tied with bondings, which makes me vulnerable. If change is the way
Moon of gold and a storm on the horizon My cape like gossamer wings in the wind Oh starlight, star bright first star I see tonight Send me somebody to love before the reaper Comes and takes my life… Well
While aversely obliging decadent demands of the reigning, endorsed affluent, an internal voice howls interposingly loud and insists I really shouldn’t: “pitiful, weary worker, Coerced, uncaringly ordered, and damned by upper class rules, will you ever tire of being a
Behold now the warbler In different sizes, forms and colours, it appears With its limitless boundaries, the warbler crosses any border Yet how light or so unseen are its feathers Its voice, piercing through the blank space The echo resounding
This is my moment of… Reminiscence, reckoning, recognition Of things I had wished for Hoped for, dreamed of… They unfold themselves one by one Like blooming buds under the sun This is my moment of… Recall, recognizance, realization Of things
Everything starts with a piece of something. But she’s already in pieces so how come? Such a dark journey, she wasn’t telling. A tragic story. Ending— there was none. All was black. She’s not blind, But her hope was. There’s
Against a backdrop of broiling grey The dancing colours flap; wave away To all who can see and for all left to be A warning about the worsening sea A relentless outburst of desperate cries Fighting the force of the
The sun rises softly Through the dawn Announcing daylight Slowly shining over Forests and woods Birds singing and chanting Under the azure hood A symphony of love Joyous tunes in the air The earth is filled With the power of
She has arisen like a full moon In his heaven, That puts him in ecstasy Approved by the blinking stars strewn in array. His heaven comforts her with enough place and pride, Full of azure deep and spacious heart-line in
Love is the power, in the center of your soul That makes you feel needed And wanted and whole It is the force within that heals the wounds of life That eases your anguish and lessens your strife It’s giving
When I lay my head down to sleep, I can feel your loneliness calling me; can you feel my pain calling to you? The emotional mess of what I’ve become, seemingly unaware drifting along in your own world of perfect
All alone sitting on the edge of my bed My hands covering my face A moment when I silently pray to be invisible Moment when I feel like crying… Not many, but yes there are few such moments Appearing in
The sludge overtakes the sane euphoria.A barefoot caravan of cloud becomes edgy. The hills have gone green. The cascading falls tend to mount on the scattered stones. Suddenly I go berserk and start hitting the stars moon by moon, when