Comforting poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of comforting poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on comforting are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
“HE” He is an important persona. He is- who is omnipresent, and makes me feel special. He is- who is outstandingly unique, that nobody can ever beat. He is- who rings the bells of my heart, with a dart. “HE”
O comforting tree! Neither I need your fruits Nor your blossoms, Want only a bit of your shade Tired I am To take rest under your shade, Then will leave Travel I have to I will keep travelling. O lovely
Her tranquility is soothing and comforting, When she is cross, she is exciting and retorting, Fascinating; a displeased beloved is charming, A miracle of cooling that ends in warming, The color of cheeks when becomes more pink, The latent call
Mother India I travelled to you Three years back ‘Twas a moment’s spur Friends thought I’d gone whack Mother India Filled with uncertainty For what was in store Intrepid and curious I reached your belly at Bangalore Mother India With
Pharmacist’s pantry or landlord’s larder, choices aplenty for a mind so disposed. Maximum dosage to test the boundaries, roulette wheel silently spinning. Senses slither away like an exposed serpent, seeking the shapelessness of the shadows. The comforting numbness of certain
I must go to the hills again, To those distant rolling, green slopes, To those lonely, shrouded peaks, To the comforting embrace of the morning mist. I must go to the hills again, To the sparkle of effervescent streams, To
In you I see strength, power You standby to support me like a tower. You make me laugh till my stomach hurts, I don’t know how they can affect me they’re just words. You hold my hand comforting me always,
Walk ever faintly with me, my love Barefoot upon the salted apron shore Let us sip the fading western light Savor the bodied flavor of recent wounds Bow completely to descending night Heal imperfectly beneath comforting moons ..until daylight reveals
The spirit flows, Down the aisle of believers, It contorts and goes, Into the hearts of gracious receivers, The reading is a lament, Over a loss of accepted vigor, With which it has departed a certain consent, In the disrespect
He rode into town on his horse. Spurs digging into A soft dull gray, hooves echoing against the ground. His eyes met with a certain lass. Joyful at heart. His eyes tried her on, alone with limitless possibility. He thought
About the book: These poems happened to me at random, insignificant moments. They are still damp, from loss. They manifest wild ways to look at ordinary things. I am picking up pieces of life And handing them over to you.
Of all the simplest of things. Sometimes love is a lot like socks. Some are long, some are short. Hell some even come up to the height of knees. Some are bland. Some are colorful. Baring the fruit of comforting
Struggle is life’s way of strengthening it… yet because of it I’m stuck in a bottomless pit. Everything’s gone, truly nobody left… a few that once cared now all think I’m a pest. All that was left was a tiny
Lines on forehead are deepening. No signs of abatement of fire in our bellies. The hunger we inherited is only comforting the mouthless. Broken laughs. Strange bedfellows chopping off the murals from the lips. A body rots, stinks. Maggots fly.
I don’t know what to do sometimes, When you’re crying in my arms, All I know is my arm around you, Will protect you from your harms. Sitting there just sobbing, Shaking with your fears, Making a puddle on my
Explosions rocked Manchester Arena after finale of Ariana Grande concert where just moment before avid fans of this idol did cavort and flirt shattering poignant moments, when one than another attendant did amidst helter skelter yell and blurt now treasured
Winter fogs are delving over city Like birds of prey with breathless cold Each drop moistens your lips Passing shivering kisses like beloved. The last afternoon sun that brought comforting warm Meekly knocking at the door of grey sky, Her
It is most just and so fair And not just any scrap of square. For gentle lady and kind Sir Need this linen to leave and stir. Her flowing sari is draped perfectly The blouse contrasts most fittingly. Her hair
“Open the Door”! I feel suffocated I feel hopeless My mind has become claustrophobic My eyes want light My ears want music My heart want courage My soul wants freedom! “Please”, I cried “Open the Door ” So that I
The moon sleep-walks Her circuit garden tonight; The sky-folks she sleep-talks To – are star-points of light; She sleepwalks alone; above Considering whom to love; Her ardent light falls far Her gentle gaze falls near; About her sphere a little
Tick Tock Tick Tock Hickory Tickory tock Benevolence is the creature Amidst of all Time is not a river of mystery precisely present, future & history Time is mighty watches over us The abstract deity records and focus Time is
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
…are as varied as they are inconsequential. All struck on a speck of a place, in a speck of time. Our very evolution built on infinitesemly small terrain. All that we think, all of the great contributions like so many
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
The cold wind blew, dry leaves fell rain poured in torrents, washed off the trace of the past. Lightening struck ablaze, darkness died.. A storm still broke out, the chains of bondage cracked…. Thunder struck aloud, leaving the past dead..
Scribbling down the essence of my heart, Writing down the unsaid words so easily, Hiding it with those blank pages, Which will be filled with the same sweet agony, How I know the pre-written destiny, And still giving my all
It was my childhood, Beyond those memories, When I cross, I get to see that ocean, That never came out, Out of those boundaries, Boundaries of lashes, Lashes hiding behind, Behind all those smiles, Smiles that were meant to cry,
Friends and good books, Worth keeping always, No matter how one looks. Books offer an insight, To one’s life. Friends pick you up, Give wings to your flight. Books light the intellect, Friends too make your life perfect. With books you are
We take so much for granted from this world on which we play, the breath inside our lungs drawn in from a cold and windy day. Draining the life from a world already so drawn and stretched to it’s limits,
The tride says you reside here with my snow All of your brighest hair, been tarnished with rust You hardly knew I can discem your daisies grow Where your heart alone has fallen to my dust When the moon rages,
Don’t remember when it happened A year ago or a few, But a strange thing has happened And, for me, a very new. It all started with a prologue, As it always does, A prologue very interesting, For the both
From my lashes fall a salty solution but never the solution to the trigger of my violent pollution. Feeding the well within me with ammunition of self-pity. My thoughts seeking through garbage dumps of my mishaps, picking up and hoarding