Compliment poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of compliment poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on compliment are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
”I sojourn in your vibrant world, Mr. Ahmed Of dulcet melodies and wafting aromas The paintings adorning your house forlorn Are as soothing as the breezes of the morn I met your mates, your benevolent friends Savoured their enchanted, beguiling
They talked regularly on the phone, They just can’t stay at their home They decided to take a step forward, And finally, they met afterward, When their eyes finally met, The time around them slept, When he spoke his first
Dear Barbara I have attempted to shield you from uncaring and mean spirited people, thinking that I was helping you. I have tried to coral and box you in, caution and counsel you, thinking that I was helping you. I
Mirror, Mirror, you think you know me. Showing me like an icy lady. That’s not how I want to be seen. Mirror, mirror, treat me like a queen. Why don’t you compliment my changes? I’m becoming a lovely lady. Show
Wake up in the morning with no stress,feeling love in excess even forgot my address forget all the bad of men with no regrets turn around on my bed touch my woman and compliment her nightdress touching her hips and
It was just her fifth birthday, When she learnt to search for truth, And she questioned everything she learned, From then, right through her youth. She asked who had decided, Only boys could play in dirt, But her mother said
10 am Saturday His legs take turns, propelling him through clouded crystalline barriers, Inky black thoughts clasped in his left hand. The toasted man takes his place among the Meager masses on his chafing pleather throne 240 seconds, a cup
The name, that will be written in the book of love, shouldn’t be faint- should be full of charm, meaningful and uttered fairly. The name must be eminent earning her lover’s fame, and the book will win the compliment, and
Round and round, I turn around. People blink at me, I never unwound. The world revolves with my feeble sound. When people follow me, they are time-bound. The sun travels on my arms. The moon follows my norms. I am
Life is an endless Journey Journey is smooth some times Journey is tiresome most of the time Journey is pleasant few times Journey finally ends over the time Journey during child hood is filled with fun and frolic One hardly
Look how the sun rises and sets, Earth becomes heaven where man lives; It is man who gets and forgets; Only Allah gives and forgives. Roses bloom and nightingales sing, Rivers run, their waves fall and rise; Allah gets pleasure
Through the arthritic wrought iron gate that squeaks from a pull or a push, up the weedy cobbled path past the grope of a sentinel bush. In one hand the past In a bulbous ballooning black bag with keys to
I will sit or lay. Not in sadness or tears, you don’t understand. I’m in-between everything. That time I starred at that horse. I wanted to be it so much. Its pensive eyes knew I was not worth a glance.
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
We watched them leaving- Leaving for the western plateau. We have our kin over there. They have promised them free passage. Will the others do the same? Some of them vowed to come back. Some of them cursed us back.
The skies smiled above, The moon peeped through the cracks, Clouds black than usual, A new life arrival waited, A pain so enormous, She bore it courageously, This life had to survive, This life wasn’t hers anymore, But every ones’
It’s not the answer but the question that eludes us Leaving us no choice but to render an answer Without knowing the reason Like some sandy trail that the wind has obliterated In a vast and infamous desert Having nothing
Beggar begs for alms with folded hands Corrupt demands bribe stretching his hands Beggar begs to fill his tummy Corrupt take bribe to blow up his tummy People cursing the beggar throw coin at him People fearing the corrupt give
How can I tell the tale of my little heart? Stuck snugly on the tip of my tongue, since long. Strengthen me; further delay may hurt her heart. Give me clues to confess, without prolonging. Even though we are so
On rocks made of broken dreams; And bars of want for ore; Lies my world! I built my temple of contradictions; Camped deep in my core; Right where monks are clothed with bitterness! A place where mere coincidence isn’t given
Please, don’t look at me. My heart starts to beat a little faster from anxiety. Wonders speed through my mind Do I look gross? Do I look fine? Please, don’t shout my name. I go insane. I lose my words.
February, had just bid farewell to its 29th day, Knowing that it won’t see it for next four years And that’s why I guess the night seemed a bit longer And silent, and calm, and the wind chose to lazily
Nature is Natural. Nature is Wonderful I have never seen anything more beautiful than nature An afternoon breeze expels cold air, Along with the fallen green leaves. The sun hiding beneath the trees, Making my skin warm The music plays
I know him since he surprisingly visited us at our infanthood quarter. At that auburn day, we’d just filled up our pockets by our fists, snatched warm embers from the fireplace and from a dragon dwelling inside the tale, then
Awoke to a vision of you. a gentle breeze, in this moment not about you or me. but the simple sound of birds singing swaying in the trees. a symphony of perfection nothing else matters. piece flows through my body
If only we were bones We wouldn’t throw so many stones Separated by this skin We seem to forget we’re all human Brother killing brother All for their flesh’s color Inequality uncontrolled Because of the lies we’ve all been told
Separated by months and eight thousand miles making love to you is an impossibility like painting a hangar with a pallet knife clearing four feet of snow with a soup spoon yet one day you arrive and we meet always
O, dear Indus, the witness of millenniums’ History, traditions and culture You feed us with your sweet water And in your lap you us nurture You might be a mighty channel Of flowing water for the world On your course