Comparision poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of comparision poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on comparision are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Justice – Injustice, white and black, One is a blessing, the other is fake. Injustice is a deadly snake, Justice is like a beautiful lake. Justice nourishes the roots of society, Injustice lives in an immediate priority. Justice is the
Vague log cabins speckle the yawning valley against the rapture of majestic mountains. Narrow pathway snakes up the range, gooseberry shrubs colour the sides of the stony trail that leaves me cold. Squinting against the dead sun chilly winds dampen
It’s early morning The sun is still preparing herself to shine I don’t know if I’m ready to meet the sun Because I have been friends with the moon The dark gives me so much more happiness Than the bright
Her eyes hid a shade of beauty A sense of a deeper struggle, restrained behind dried up tears and sealed lips A tale of always searching for acceptance in mediocrity Next to a society determining what beauty is, from a
They were that kind of people clapping with their heartbeat like caught fish slap their tails against the ground they cheated on life from time to time smiling with tight lips stretched in a straight line faking laughter clasping teeth
Expressions stifled by futile ambiguity; banal faces crushed by oppression. truth blind and no scent of levity; sleep while in cold repression. wake to the noise of longevity; time smiles on and on in suppression. bright colours to shift loyalty;
The sweet and suave sound from your lips is so lovely, Like a river sounds lyrically while passing on green valley. It fulfills my heart with joy and edifies the soul with divinity, I feel eternal pleasure, as if I
Been a Christian, been Jew. A Mormon and a Muslim too. After walking each path, finding none quite right, my eyes opened wide to true simple light. To love and hear compassions sweet song, it was spiritualism whispering all along.
Isolation from time and present existence, The air dabs a little splash of peace, Sometimes as a massage, sometimes as a scratch, Both share a bit of pain, But as a virgin to pleasure it feels all the same, It’s
Tell me not to rise again, Yonder slumbering magic hands of futility Have lulled me to rest in suave peace’s grave And are inviting drowsiness enough to blink. Thanks thou merchant of senselessness Trades countless pains in forlorn heart Till
Don’t misunderstand my intention If I pretend bliss is blinking, even for a moment! Longer I stay in this confounding riddle I am closer to my happy self, Gather all the Intel on a space craft I am going on
Blood moon, O, sun-halogenated bulb! Sublunary loons swear and swoon Your red blushes flood The late twilit noon In hot menstrual flushes of blood! But blood moon! In your earth-orbited race I think you run out of skied space Much
Something is hurting inside me Ripping my soul in two Its never right. Never wrong Its the way of things. Why? Why does this have to happen? I feel something. Breaking apart. Falling apart. It’s hurtful. Its not going away.
Page 1. the celebrated sailing frog from Montgomery County went a court’n, or so the tale iz toad to a grand ole mansion built around 1910, and e’en ‘pon being razed ~2012 ah no dummy sea worthiness still plainly showed,
I made a mask for myself one day So colorful, filled with glee but beneath the surface lies another aspects of my personality. Nobody sees me cry Because i designed the mask for smiling Nobody can sees the pain Because
“There’s magic in the Coolroe-stream, or pucks weave herb into the browse to make me dream… In Killorglin town I bowed before a virgin-queen, who gave a crown to make me king with vision over everything. Our match remained unconsumate.
Lately we’ve done some growing up. Without you I feel little different now. The insect that whispered in my ear is no more. No more going through turmoil now. Loving hurt each and every time. It’s the only thing I
Life was beautiful when you were mine, Now everything is messy and nothing is fine. You’re gone, leaving all your memories behind, Want to run away from all these, but the way I can’t find. Woke up this morning with
Her innocence trusted every word that was said, Unaware to a heartbreak she was led. Believing the sugar coated assertions that were spoken would leave her devastated and broken. Did not gauge her simplicity was the deceivers most useful tool,
Between the zeros and the ones, a paisley tablecloth is spread, and atop it rest white lace napkins, the yellow butter and the butter knife, the wine glasses, the teacups, the water jug filled with ice – a mundane scene
Hapless souls still living, Dumping all shortcomings on clumsy faith. Gathering ignorance quite strenuous, Marking uncertain gains on life’s expense Without precious self, follies unexpectedly streaming brains. Waste of dying sense builds toll monuments What we often call civilization in
Remorse it is consuming me My integrity My peace I look into the mirror Evading my eyes For I see the shadow Of the remorse I converse With you I see it Mirrored in you The discomfort I sense Emanating
Gladioli stand in a tantric daze under siege of prism. The colors fall dangling, unsettling silent memories. I thought I was nervous while playing a smell game of wild guns, when tanks were rolling out on streets. A final farewell
Diplomacy of inconstancy unmeets the urgency. Aura of brilliance was falling in your feet. After the death, it was not a name, only a frozen body.We moved backward swiftly, to find out the footprints in dark. Winter was becoming harsh
Oh, the leaves of green that exist no longer As the days grow cold and a little stronger My heart and the seasons intertwined The child dies; the man grows less kind Experience is the lesson hard earned Best of
(With a cup of coffee in my hand, looking out the large window, there could be no other thought on my mind, but to write on this beautiful vision) The dainty flurries, swiftly flooding the skies… Snowy pearls, golly what
when death takes off its stockings it reveals it has the legs of a lady. not just desiccated femurs – luscious calves and plump thighs, the kind that would make noted drunken poets claw free from the grave and wolf
Well what’s wrong with the world that We can’t all just get along? Surely this is the dream of the Angels and Jehovah’s never ending song. Love and compassion go a long, long way So embrace your brother with warm
We met, a random act of coincidence We talked, I figured we had some sort of relevance Never in my time has someone lent me an ear so much, trust me I commend your patience Small talks, random brawls, A