Communism poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of communism poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on communism are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
The grafitti marked the new beginning The rubble in the streets A telling symbol of political decay A girl crosses the street A new way on the other side An outstretched hand calling for democracy I see vestiges of propaganda
Hope and dreams Fill Schemes. Slippery as soap Both dreams and hope. My dreams have seen The things that might have been. The sweat it seems Is a part of my dreams. I sit by the streams With moonlight dreams.
Tonight the nectar will be spread to tame a random tormentor. Black and white, I never saw my father weeping. Lonely he was. I am my own creation today weather beaten. Confession to – confession, unread. When the- storm was
I’ve shared more than blame These harpies find me Wandering cargo ships with dagger-eyed cheeks and charm A gold-fleeced buffalo Mama said don’t engage But I can’t short them when they’ve come so far for someone not looking to be
Once in a blue moon, Beneath the moonlight, Locked in arms of the sea, The moonbeams reflect, On the shimmering waves, Its infused blue hues. The swell of the tides, Gaze at the beaming moon, Shrouded by fluffy clouds, In
Shylock and Portia, in a court-scene, One to shed blood, and the other Not to shed blood, on one and the same condition, To be true to the court, in favor of justice, On rules and regulations, against Antonio, A
I too wanna live… I’m tired of eyes that look but don’t see They pierce remembering the undressed me Numerous stares taunt my erased purity But they don’t see the soul of me. A painful experience I’ve locked up inside
We’re so different and unknown We absent mindedly pass each other My heart drops tears when you don’t even notice me You’re like a rock No feelings attached to anyone But pain whispers… When I see you with other girls
After a long time, I heard them again: peacocks. Bequeathing the pilgrim sun to palm trees; poised to open sexuality. Ah, the purple lips of a downing cloud sets the sky on a chase for a lost love of the
Take these hot pavements To my horizon of unborn secrets Beating down like a drum Never mind that scorching sun Together, we’ll run. The proliferation we seek Like a soft photosynthesis Blooming in this parched desert What do you think?
Last night, I had the most wonderful dream, There was a river of life, flowing in a stream. And I looked upon, streets of pure gold, I saw The Promised Land, that had been foretold. Diamonds, Rubies, Sapphire, Precious Stones,
After so much struggle Throughout the year , After achieving success That you had feared, It’s time to cherish. To be thankful for the good Experiences you had, To be grateful for the worst experiences from which you learned ,
Evil whispers to darkened hearts Seeds of destruction; plans for death Kill a mind, a heart, a life By choices of darkness or light Blind arrogance They can’t see themselves in the dark Lips speaking crooked lies and deceit. The
Like moonless sky waiting for the next sunrise Am waiting for the day,you could see me I feel you in my soul Since when I started loving you Realized you are my life and destiny Since then I never felt
Now comes the day when thou art no more here To prattle with me rend’ring soft delight As thy heart knew that mellow joy, clear, Untainted free from world’s many a plight. Transcending din of town, thy musical charm Reached
On their first meet their eyes emitted current on gazing at each other On the day of their engagement Their heartbeats clashed with one other On the day of marriage their soul got mingled amidst reverberating sound of music On
My wife worked at a hospital at night, and I did not want her to drive herself. Our youngest son had just gotten his driver’s license. So he was very excited about driving her to work. Invariably, after he dropped
What an incredible adventure this love affair has been So many wondrous things that I have felt and I have seen So many special places that left such a tender mark A myriad of memories forever etched upon my heart
In love’s brief hour, A new joy is born, quite uncommon, Spelling rhythms of stepping affair coming up. Half drawn eyes glowing, full of fineries, Giving gentle knocks in hesitating heart. It is the glorious hour, being in passion fever,
Every morning the moon will have regurgitated another piece of my sanity you’re thinking this will be another werewolf poem American raving lunatic pouncing upon unsuspecting prey when shadows are in highest contrast gutting and gorging on the men sniffing
Ideology of life For every husband and wife Is to be sincere Direct and clear As simple as give So that children live Grow and endure With minds so pure Righteously think right Stars of the night Spreading light to
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
Assembled casualty, repetition of conflict from the time of its start until the approach inside your heart, just before the last beat. Instrumental are the events that correspond and implement an almost unjust desire, circumvent any time spent and repent.
Through the elements of fear in faith you become vulnerable to conversing legends. The reclining god was stolen from the temple for a weeping skull. Red clover will interrogate the blurred sky for domestic violence of dark themes. Ashes in
(If Mother Earth could speak…) I’m the first light of dawn setting fire to the skies, the awe that ends with a soft, sated sigh. I’m the slow, gentle sway of ancient, lofty trees, branches of life filled with wonders
My own self, I need to honor. My own gift, I need to discover. I was born with, A special capacity, I need to find. What distinguishes my entity? To develop and practice, To have an access, To reach the
The gentle creak of the suspension as i settle into the drivers seat, the sharp click of the key as it turns in the ignition, releasing the steering lock the metallic cough of the engine, as it starts up from
It’s one of those mornings that welcomes whiskey and soda with open arms. The Sun and I, more or less, feel the same way about getting out and conquering the world. ‘Well, it’s not our turn today’, we tell ourselves.
Don’t forget, our passion of yesterdays. Elevated beating of our hearts. A gentle breeze against my face. Caressing ever so softly. A fine mist of rain, Your touch is refreshing to my skin. Thunder booming, getting closer and closer, our