Cleanliness poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of cleanliness poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on cleanliness are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
while your obsession with order was just on the border and your preemptive guard around things yet unmarred was something to, well, behold there was a side of you that was true and forgiving and somehow made room for the
We the people, we the youth, we the creatures, these all are universal truth. We the destroyers will remain mute as we will not get any ripe fruit. We the masters, we the blasters, we can stop many disasters. We
Young days start with a nostalgia for a lost freedom Anxiety was the prime suspect. As the age moves on, truth consumes the virtue. I hold this insult in the throes of conscience with tears. The dreams did not last
Will stand alone, challenging time. In the world, which never seems to be mine- Fake people, shallow souls, Sometimes, even my shadow was not mine. Betrayal and breaking trust, Was a routine and was absolutely fine. Playing with people’s emotions-
Tangled clues with sensuous sparring; the incense was rising from the blue moon. It was body’s integrity, a lender was demanding when lust had become prodigal. Behind the thin veil, red eyes stared unblinkingly at the portrait of a nude
Good morning and welcome, this is the day, Your life will change, we’ll show you the way, We’ll work together to help you through, So you can do what you’d like to do. So many areas of nursing to choose,
Depth of a bruised sea rising from the surface overwhelms the dumb shore shining for impossible tomorrow golden sand, the locked door. History repeats amnesia for a depressed meniscus shifts the nameplate. Here was laid the image of priestlees god
Imagination wild with dreams and A happy childhood so it seems From a young age my future was set Then tragedy and our family met Dad had taken fate into his own control By deciding when to end his life
On this so cold night Laying alone I ponder How warm the bed would have felt With you having in here. Your legs wrapped around mine Spooning, curves settled so perfect That’s why it’s said “made magically for each other”.
The Seventh Day church built on the bend I curse at the perfection Alongside these potholes dug deep A cemetery for hope Down the road the Pentecostal one wore a hat It seems the years had stripped away all that
On your face the shadow of a transparent wound bungles the capricious climate of the death of a thought which you could not carry very far. And that was all when I asked you some questions about life. You started
There is poetry in the, Heart of the ocean, A longing in the soul, To be enfolded in its waves, As they create a ripple, Of pulsating thrill in me. A calming tranquility, Fascinating wondrous hues, Magnetic is the attraction,
When the Night Falls: Into their nests and roosts, the birds of heaven return; yes, into their pens- the domestic animals of the land return. Into their holes, crevices, and caves, the lowly and mighty in the wild return; but
They arrived through the morning post The father, son, and the holy ghost They raised their flag. I raised a toast To all the wretched sinking souls And so we built our little church A little store to peddle hope
I traced the patterns, Under the clear moonlight. So lovingly held, In the heat of, The purple gaze. The upturned contours- Defined- Sharp- In their arrogance. Craggy- In its silvery silhoutte. Perhaps, It was the last time, I set my
Let it rain, let it rain! O Mighty let it rain, For it gives no pain, The wonderful fire flies shine Above this huge brine Currents flowing like the blood in my veins But humans are not like rains Once
If thoughts were paper boats, I’d catch one by its sail, And gently steer it, Towards the light that plays peekaboo, On your skin, That waltzes against mine, Stubble scathing through the softness, Till I can smell your breath, Contouring
I find comfort in self pity. Belittling myself, my actions and even the mere five second thoughts of my success. I’m tied up by this part of me. The part I’m inevitably dependent on. It is the initial segment of
We are the others, the never wills, the nothingness of death. We are nothing, you are less; spineless, useless, worthless, blessed. Burn it to the ground and ground it down; I love falling apart in your arms. Everyone is going
Nobody likes me, everybody does too I’m not divine, neither are you. Why do you hate to hear about a daughter? And cannot make your brain broader! You have used me as a tool; Never allowed me to attend school.
Your eyes are like snake so charming and so warming Your gait is like a deer which give impression of beer Your all other body gestures are so daring and alarming I have taken you in being wonderfully near and
Departing Sacramento, Ca. just past 7:00 AM PT on a nice Saturday morning, we headed for Chicago. All is going well as we take off, as the pilot soon announces that we will ascend up to 39,000 feet. I am
“Sometimes your worst self is your best self The moonlight divides the shadows. The essence of a black rose. Butterflies flutter by through the air. Unaware they are there without a care. I grab thee adorable like a snuggle bear.
Life may be a pleasant journey for the moment but one is unaware what is in store the next moment Move along with Moon and stars and try moving ahead of sky you will surely leave others far behind without
“Like a dangling swing from outa space the diamond bridge hang over the Bonny river spraying its golden rays of lights upon the dark rippling ocean waves that have become docile at this time, being in harmony with this incendiary
Sitting at the edge of a bubble uncooled, trying to light an eternal flame of anonymity; counter the wrangler, one skull in each hand, of ancestors, you prepare for the crime of breaking the umbilical cord. Ostracized, you forge the
Stalking death, pale faced Invaded the gods’ nest Turning it into the valley of dead In loving company of blind sense. Nations awake, staring to each other with surprising faces Smelt the blood of innocents, tiny faced, Embarking upon tolling
One’s existence was threatened by the overseeing iguana like crested disguise. Repressive, explosive eyes. You are trapped in words beneath bewitching smile. The ‘V’ sign for violence becomes more obvious. That hits you in face. The eastern wind is blowing.
Countless Times I fell, Countless times I rose, Countless times I cried, Countless times I pleaded, Countless times I felt suffocated, Countless times my heart bleed. Countless times I wanted to run away, But never got the courage to have
The black slate, The white chalk, The lustre of a steel tiffin box. The drenched eye that read its first romantic novel, The inexpressible pain of your first heartbreak, The solace in a best friend’s hug, The fancy collection of