Confess poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of confess poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on confess are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
We should have played truth or dare instead we played confess. This was down in the mildew basement mother-in-law apartment an unrented rental in a suburb notorious for its decline of population. Confess someone would say and point. It would
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
A tavern Simple-complex, happy-low, A water hole full of regulars Heartbroken, shy or smitten Wealthy or wily smugglers. A rustic smoking a cigar, Passing colloquial remarks, A skillful pianist playing, A journey an artist embarks. A wanderer at heart, I
(Recollections: Circa, 1999) Every time when I’d thought of ye My heart wondered – who are ye May be, ye: That first rain drop falling on a parched land That flower which blossoms in a barren soil That first vision
Hello there! I see you’re sad, What?! Why are you making a big deal out of irrelevancy?! Yeah, You been called ugly, so what?! I’ve lost count the number of times I have been called ugly. Don’t let it getting
At this very hour of my life I am sitting alone with a heavy headache I have neither anger nor hatred for you; But I simply pity you And I feel sinful myself; You made me venture into this impossibility
Interpreter, simply the translator machine in between two The only language air carry Those words flow from one Blow to another But sometimes The words waving in between vanishes its meaning Trust changes into rust Friends convert into fiend Life
as the dawn breaks through the skies and through the clouds, somewhere a flower wakes up, somewhere a bird calls and calls, in some house, a mother sings, raising the children and gods, the boys and girls stand everywhere, brushing,
Happy to be alive I could not be happier to live in these great times And surviving another year to live this life with awesome friends like you guys Blessed to be the uncle of such beautiful kids who are
The kids wanted a piñata, so we got them one; but I must stress that it had no religious significance. It did not have seven points representing the seven deadly sins, and it was not an allegory of man’s temptation
flirting with fire blowin it up in the most earnest desire her perfume was led to basement blues remove those shoes bask in the news then you will se a falsified game of reality in society we got hidden games
lime light beams pressing in all around the stage angie’s face was beaming to the whole crowd listen my dear brothers and sisters i have a message for all of you tonight coming from the Golden Light with stardust beams
Death in meadow on leaves, under the sky. History was walking over the bodies of those who were in service to move the wheels of sorrow. The horror sinks slowly. They were killed without war. Unpaid debts of life, conflicts
Dawn left bare bones Gave her his cruel temper, he, whom no one had ever loved Virgin’s blood shed not for pleasure but for body senses lust Flare of fire, modern world burnt Fugitives from Orion hide on Milky Way
In the silence of my mirror I watched her for three lights— While her lips became animated yawps Dancing along with her twirling hands– First one, then the other A surly communicative dance where impatience reigns a rain of words.
May be the winds might know which way it turned, or fish might guide through that deep undercurrent. The flora and fauna of that desolated island, help unravel the mystery if it ever land. But with all the technologies, the
In a box with rusty padlocks in a corner of my head, Are the broken toys of a childhood, laid to rest in premature separation. Drowned emotions and strangled feelings, together dressed in black, Are shadows of an inquisitive soul
Aim to be the Master of Life. Heaven never waits; let’s take this today, before it’s gone like yesterday Every generation gets the grief, sure do we all; But the Master is he who doesn’t feel perplexed at all. One,
In the silence of the blue ocean tides, As the water sweeps on the sea rides I feel you are with me; holding my hands, Walking slowly along the cold wet sands, Knowing that one fine dawn we shall meet.
When I gaze at her eyes A softness fills my heart When my lips touch hers A sense of wonderment We have kissed before Through many lifetimes Her hands in mine Exquisite, so femininely divine Her cheeks blushed rosily Her
I wish to be loved by a man Like never ever he loved any Like that before The tender touch should Shake my life and soul within And happily I should ensconce myself Within himself His love must be that
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