Confessions poems bring the best collection of short and long confessions poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great confessions rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these confessions poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on confessions are here for you.
Every day I pass by your window, Half expectant of seeing you there, Lost in thoughts As you always were, I wish I would chance upon, Catch a glimpse, Of an unexpected tear, Rolling down to smear Your pretty face.
“Molly confession” My Molly confession Best in love In love I stay with you A message long over due My baby You excite me Glee Lovingly taking Molly Enhancing a love between Us is where I want to be Seeing
I am so sorry The first words you say In your admission I was wrong follows next with down cast eyes In your confession the confession given in hopes of forgiveness is admission dressed in pretty clothes Your true intent
my father used to tell me that divorce was the process of losing one’s routine. 5:30 came and went without the sound of a familiar rattle from outside the door that came from my mothers keys. last night I got
You know the hardest things in life. Is to be supportive to a person who has serious problems and will not admit in having them. Life is like a streaming water flowing and still but deeper than and angry waves.
You’re inside a reality as dripped by Jackson Pollack everything guided, everything only seeming accidental. Straight lines eaten by curves and color as a sense of inevitability. Somehow it turns out as thousands of interlocking narratives, never a single start
Let us go then, you and I… Let us go then… Tired? Surprisingly, we have been saying this a hundred years. It haunts. The hallucination continues. No, it leap-frogs. Eliot was dead before I was born, before we were born.
The smoke rises higher and the fire’s centre burned so bright We all sat around it as if transfixed by its almighty rite The shadows we create cannot penetrate its heat We burn some rabbit from this afternoon and feast,
The tear drops run down, And fall off her nose. She cries in dark corners, Where nobody goes. You can follow the track, From her eyes to her chin. Years upon years, Of letting them win. And her eyes tell
Fed up of being so gloomy everyday. Adventures await I tell everyday. Again and again I am deceived they say, in spite of that I want to gamble everyday. Even now I don’t realize the truth, but I want to
If we look outside God is hypothetical Will face just a mirage Search will be critical. None could find outside Search remained futile Because He is inside Peep in for a while. If unable to look in Look at the
Two flailing oiled chotis slap me out of stupor. The Goddess arches out hinged at the pole, her saucer hands clasped below mine. A hooting call answered with crystal stare from wide apart eyes that grazes my shoulder, wounding me.
You’re the cracked head, I’m the loose screw, Crazy are the things we do,and the things we’ve been through, On our own and together Every day , Every weather; The darkest of your secrets,and the dirtiest ones All the sarcasm
When moon rises in the sky, and the dark night gets darker. When silence is the all that surrounds, and in the middle, howl of hounds. When people sleep, but their dreams awake, when reality hides and rises the fake.
Four curved iron legs,a foam seat and a back rest keep it complete . I accept it isn’t anything unique i only want to ponder on its peak – the strength that wills this errorless control- inaction surely sloped into
I searched the darkness in my side of night, So marking stars strewn in the Milky Way, Now made familiar by my searchful sight, That no more in the cosmos could I stray; Or will a better chance come with
You captivated me, Drenched in raindrops My mind singing in joy, At the sight of you, A fragrance around me, An untold emotion, Deep in my soul. Blossoms of love, That never fades, In ethereal beauty, Of a misty glow,
Moonlight streaks, Empty streets, Lonely hearts, Miles apart. Tender strokes, Memories touched, Love – lust, All gone to dust . Bare face , Deep eyes, Empty chairs, Lifeless smiles. Heartache, Heartbreak, Momentary unrest, Light stroke. Golden glow, Emotions flow, Take
Maybe we romanticized hurt and pain because we were always taught that the moon and the sun were meant to be together despite being so far apart and we too desire to be so magnificent that all the broken people
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
When I depart the realm of the terrestrial for the splendour of the celestial, do not bury my remains in the valley of the Kings, for robbers would move my bones in search of gold rings. I detest sharing the
She’s my perfect girl. Every day at college she sits with me, Enjoys my company and accepts my love As I do hers… She’s my perfect girl, She knows I play too many games, And that I’m obsessed with cartoons,
A holed balloon cannot hold air, A cracked pot can never contain water, But I dont know how, I’m amazed and wow, A broken heart can contain and hold love, Is it something against the natural physics ? Or is
The blue sky and azure ocean, Dawn changing the aura of morning sky, Incandescent yellow rays of sunlight, Magnificent clouds billowing, mesmerizing charisma of rainbow, Sunrise and Sunset a magnificent golden orange hue, Brightly colored birds, Peacock’s display of iridescent
You grow like ferns in my ribcage. weeds. feeding on the topsoil, residue, sediment of the flora now dead and gone — a decaying heart. through filtered sunlight you grow rampant, climbing, twining through every part of this rotting, putrid
O ! Mahatma Gandhiji ! How powerful Your weapon ! More powerful than , Ever , ever made. O ! Mahatma Gandhiji ! How destructive your weapon ! More destructive than atom bomb , That destroys in total. O !
Well there’s Hooverville on the edge of the river haint nuttin boot flimsy cardboard e’en with clothes will shiver waiting for tension to be released like a arrow in a taut quiver major organs ready to burst open cuz day
He returned empty hands. Death was casually running around on charred bodies. Was lank poetry of a ruthless god. The house was on fire after selling its children. The days were becoming longer than life. Casus belli, whom do you
The music em enacted from that shining round stick called the flute, far from a distant shore , mesmerised me to travel to the place in per suit What a paradise was it to get attracted towards the dusty eyes