Complaint poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of complaint poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on complaint are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
A brown cloud descends on charcoal sketch. Moonstruck, a blast begins. Marigold, beware: sun is going to hide behind the stings. The fang penetrates deep, in the breast of sleeping pride. A golden god melts in the arms of mercy.
I don’t remember What it was in that moment, That it all began. As if all that started Was on a sabbatical! And now that I know ‘now’, denouement is denied. Lurching and limping, from love to half-love. Scrounging for
A cold deserted alleyway, dark as a desolate grave, away off in the distance dogs howling their dismay. A winter wind is gathering, blowing old papers away, with tired forgotten faces and news of yesterday. Discarded cans and bottles clatter
Part 1 – Us A connection, telepathy sometimes. Cup of tea, cup of coffee. Helping hand, kind assurance. Pat on the back, kiss on the lips. You and me and complete loss of words. There’s something between us. A touch
I’ve lived in your heart for three years. My payments were always before time. If I made too much noise I assure you I didn’t know. My foot steps are often loud, the neighbor beside me keeps his music up.
My heart ached as his stopped. As if he didn’t know, His loss would cause me sorrow. Like rain melting drops of snow, He slipped from me. I will never forget his laughter, Precious memory that remained But gone is
Beauty has shape contour curve and weight With my hand on your breast I feel sublime and safe I showed you these words and you said You can title it “Thanks for the Mammaries” And we both laughed It’s good
The red brick wall was old and cracked, but still was strong and active; all covered by a tough old Vine that made the wall its captive. Each year in Spring, the vine grew leaves of green and tiny flowers,
It erupts and then sublimates in thirst of response from the faraway wholeness of truth. Will not be the same again this life in motion of reverse malignity. Lifting the passage from script to justify the suicidal chair of kingdom.
Alone I walk alone I stand Known only to God’s angelic band Sometimes a blessing and a curse Solitude my friend for better or worse Many go seek elsewhere delight But I can see that she holds the light Only
Mid way up the mountain, I turned around. A solace breezed through the clouds, now older. This sudden amnesia covered in snow. This reoccurring season, was I ever changed. Now grown with age. The jagged edge between my fingers. I
What was that dream A colour so strange Never felt before Which neither keeps me awake Nor let me sleep Compelling me out of myself Each moment And I stand perplexed With a fractioned heart Restless, Entrapped, Behind those walls
Once I dare… Once I dare to write my story, Memories crowded falling me weak… And words played hide and seek. Once I dare to lost in Love, brain went on compulsory leave… Mercifully, I survived of dying dive. Once
They say poetry doesn’t pay , A hobby for slacker’s bay , Frost projected it as condition , Far from being called ‘ real profession’ . Advised to bring out the writer , Write pages, words , Ensure some monetary
It stormed all night rattling teeth and windows the small tribe of cats sheathed their claws for once crept into human beds drawn incapable of love to the safety of something larger a fleshy barricade to take the blows something
The tears shed at night when no-one sees us, the sweat and blood in the days nobody hears us. The mask we wear to hide it all, the truths we find once it falls. The nightmares that overbearingly haunt us,
I remember the laughter and all of the smiles, The journey that seemed like a million miles, The happy times when I had such fun, But really….who did I become. I often wondered what life’s about, When it felt my
Amongst these thriving shadows, Those shades cimmerian, My aspirations turn to ashes. Multitudes of darkness, Ascend. My hope dying in it’s wake, This darkness assumes itself. In this perpetual mourning, This anguish, This butcher of souls, Slays. Unassailable ordeals, Absolve.
She was a girl who loved colors and art The fact that she couldn’t draw tore her apart Maybe trying a different method would work, she thought As razor blades and cutters she bought She started drawing and the canvas
Well and This Feeling Inside can’t be denied Although you’re gone my love for you goes on All my friends say find another but how can I Give my love to another when there just might be A snowball’s chance
Sometimes when I’m sitting I just want to sit in the silence And absorb the tranquility. I want to close my eyes And be condensed in the attention. To be nowhere yet somewhere. I want to live in the absent
Unveiled, the moon will find you after morose beginning of becoming – me Homophobia creeps in, beyond the condemnation, the incompleteness. You walk straight in the arms of contradiction, confusion smearing the wall with your crimson, nihilistic words. Every other
The crunching of gravel beneath my feet A sound I associate with a country retreat Manicured gardens tended with care The scent of rose blossoms filling the air A quiet calm away from the throng The silence disturbed with birds
Born as female child much against their wish makes the parents reconcile to their fate Me lagging behind in studies in spite of my best efforts make parents feel like salt added to their wound and they start cursing their
She smiled like the sun, warm and bright- Ushering her brightness all around her; like the winter sun-light… Many would give their hearts for her, for she was beautiful, But she pretty, too pretty in fact to fall for them-
We are all wayfaring travelers, Trudging down our separate roads, Hoping, wishing praying, Someone will come and share our load. There are sunburns on our shoulders, And blisters on our feet, We brave the wildest blizzards, And the scorching summer
half-clad cult of violence boiling their soulmates roasting the foes one by one killed by a ligature they were building the dams to harvest the power from tears fear climbs on your shoulders unburns hydrocarbons a train moves through the
Winding down the winter trail Through the dark and snowy veil I came upon a copse of trees And took shelter there amongst the leaves The wind howled throughout the night And gave me such a terrible fright All alone
We’ll settle by the bar and watch the women dance, then split a likely pair when we think we stand a chance. I’ve one eye on the bridesmaid with the skirt that’s riding high, showing off the daisy, tattooed upon
His Life’s journey was devoid of any story Empty pages were his Life’s File The few worthy incidence in his life too got erased in the floods of his tears A Breezy wind knocked away his short rosy married life
Thought shook through me thrilled with a sense of poignant pictures came thronging in panic haste tinsel glitter of empty titles thrilled by fresh and indescribable odors through a cycle of many ages endless and labyrinthine sentences thrilled to the