Comic poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of comic poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on comic are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
A mother sits by a graveside, Tears rolling from her eyes She doesn’t know the reasons, The what fors or the whys. Men who wear their business suits, Who only care for oil and cash, Sent her son to faraway
The ants are at the banana in advance of the beneficence of the sun a brown on brown crime as three tribes have extended hungry mandible-tipped spears to carry back the rich flesh within the maws of their concrete oases
Forever, the word digresses Carved in wood Underneath the painting, The sky is motionless, The trees by the lake, As a boy was taught, A wind too, or a spirit Of laughter, as Time clings on to The best of
The successful man has talent. Talent, perhaps developed, perhaps discovered. And so he works, to become better. The successful man has money. Money to fund his talent. His talent, which will lead to his success. The successful man has friends.
A soldier has scars, wounds we can’t see A mind of unrest, a soul yearning to be free What their eyes have witnessed, one’s heart can’t comprehend The sacrifices they have made, we can’t possibly understand They are sons and
O Bella,carelessly unbound by time crashed you the ship of fools when I rode the ebb I cast aside when it was getting hard to fly Midway through the dine,I find cosmic riffs and oh no reservations as windows to
Infant hardly know what is money Child hood is beauty without money Youth is filthy sans money Young age is a struggle to make money Middle age is meant to save money Old age can survive only with money Dead
Her dark skin and youth took the ironic decripitude out of the bargain store pictures tacked all across the wall fabric hung like proud vulvas declining to hide anything declining to invite – they were just soft walls rippling in
Her love is like turning the tides away from the Docks at riverside in the afternoons and fighting Off horrific terrifying fire breathing dragons that Overwhelmed us in desperate times of weather Or not this is a fantasy, Depends on
Hunger comes back like a dagger on face. With iris and fingerprints. Live, fluttering butterflies, stuck on lampshades. Wrecked, frozen, the ending of seeming. Men in cages. They were diluting the culture. Chlorophyll siphoned off. No color, no sprouts. The
The shyness in me makes me decide not to speak I climbed the mountains and have seen the peaks The words I write cannot explain emotions that I reach Destiny lied to me in my mind and never again should
Oh Lord Jesus, lover of my soul, He that shineth upon my poor heart. Cleanse me of every ungodly role that pierces thee like a fiery dart. Deliver my soul I beseech thee, from the deceiver’s ravenous jaws. Cause me
As the day slips behind the cliffs On the far-off horizon Taking along its glorious lamp And all the warm sunshine The earth looks down wearied All hustle and bustle comes to close The world enveloped in darkness Retires to
Walking in the bush, late in the afternoon: Spring winding trails Among Plantae et Animalia. An independent world —Sort of realm of alien species Welcomes your senses with a storm of small flies (genus Drosophila) Which playfully floods the air,
What is the thing of poverty, of frozen pain, fury under the snow, between fire and rain? You come on the surface to breathe, douse with petrol and show off a flame. A slum of emotions burns with rage. The
Mom’s the word…A BIRTHDAY TRIBUTE She was the eighth child out of the ten born to the high-profile session judge couple; She spent her childhood amidst her siblings in a traditional orthodox environment with an aristocrat touch in her lifestyle.
In the shadow of moonlight My cape pulled up around Me tight, standing at the crossroads Under the tree of life, eyes like fire In the night… I call upon the spirit of HEKATE As thunder rolls and lightning strikes
A pair of hazel eyes look at me. Your ‘bandana’ runs up to forehead, a scarf covers nose, chin and below, the pinky complexion of your cheeks lures me to paint you as a lovely maid. There is no invitation
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
To find a safe god he traveled inside the books to develop the tradecraft of winning the world. Fog squinted from the sky and elite sun waited in the lobby. Steel-pellets, flesh and body parts will follow, to nip the
If you’ve listened close to silence, I’m sure that you’ve heard, The gentle constant ringing, In the space between two words. When you really pay attention, You find it’s not just in your head, But instead in the whispers of
Staring in the mirror searching for hope Feeling only doubt and a complete lack of control My soul reaching out looking for a way out of this hole Even on this path, my dreams are so difficult to grab a
There is a word that is profound. It changes everything around. This word can shift your life dramatically, It can shape destiny and your identity. The word is CHOICE, as simple as it sounds However it has meaning that astounds.