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.
Beneath this yonder twinkling isle I laid down for a while; Amidst this firmamental lea I saw a pulsar shine with glee. Soon I ventured into a dream and saw the lign aloes gleam ; a foreigner to this lonesome
Nothing just Leaves Without the residues. Limbs cut off, leave Phantom ones; Itchy, scratchy ghosts of Those cleaved off an unsuspecting trunk. In sleepless nights, We feel for the ring, In a finger crossed out in red From a hand
One unthinkably hostile debate started in a colosseum: a path to kill the clemency. A comatose truth was listening to lies. They were pointingly arguing about the nukes option to bring about the peace and prosperity on the strife torn
All I could hear were the deafening roars of the crowd at the show stopping moment, when everything got silent. The smell of something burning reached my nose, but I decided to ignore it. “Fire!” a voice screeched. Get up!
Life is full of fun; But without batten Of values beacon Life will be just a hun. If you want in life won Approx values bidden – Not money, values one Can lead to success done. Difference between bison And
I take your hand, So soft and clean. Future scars will warp like a band, Those pure eyes that haven’t seen. My hands, rough and red, From blood of past victims. My sinful limb strikes your head, Then I say:
“Innocence looks through a window of crystal clear glass, there is no reflection, just perfect vision of clarity….. For it is through the eyes of a child that truth is captured, no shadows of grey…just pure simplicity. A child’s soul
Again I wake in this wretched place Where the devil glares with grimaced face Reading my heart, stripping it bare Savoring the scent of the secrets there I’m slipping and sliding, the ice too thin Carefully creeping, lest I fall
I’ve felt much worse, but when I realised how long I’ve been staring at this blank white page without having my fingers moving, tapping on alphabets like it does before when I want it to, I saw a man who
Did wise men from the Buddhist east Worship the child Jesus as messiah? If so, may not fungible god or fungi yeast Raise dough over the same fire? Was it reincarnated lama or messiah The Magi come thus far to
An ordinary lass, Rolled on the grass! Suddenly she glanced, Upon the blue vast! She wished hard, To gauge it in a yard! But oh! her wishful thought, Brought her what she never ought! Luck besieged her, Life to her
A piece of glass shattered distorted on the floor A form no longer but pieces of what was once before A person would be dead if he broke but you wouldn’t be sure A slow process of gathering information to
Went looking down the watery path Leaves discarded, travel to a new heaven and Metallic green of mallard neck Catches my eye; what is this? The canal is split after the lock A weir takes the heavy current Sends an
Cuddled under a warm, toasty quilt, Chewing on a bag of gummy bears with no guilt. Making the perfect mud cake, Watching the sunlight glisten off a lake. Letting myself go insane, To fight all things mundane. Cooking a delightful
While my ten fingers are busy forming the letters into words, A thousand thoughts forming in my mind as it creates something to accord. A tons of things to ponder and wonder, A lot of imaginations to expand and discover.
If you’ve ever seen an ant go whizzing by faster than his friends and with goggles on his eye’s, then without a doubt, skidding through the plants, you’ve met my friend Albert, The skate-boarding ant. From the day he was
Etched under my skin flame roses blister Scars on the palms of my hands bleed stigmata thorns My eyes freeze to crystal The tears around my throat are fashioned in black lace obsidian My lips, the color of amber and
within my chase of drifting in the wind have a good way to begin through night skies drift in all directions there must be time for confessing shadows block the tortured sky a smile from a lonesome child drifting ever