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.
Some science and commerce words are cut to use ‘co’ in shortcut. The intelligent way of stamping saves the labor of writing. Company loses its ‘mpany’ and ‘C0’ never looks funny. Another ‘Co’ presents color of black berry and ‘Cobalt’
I move mechanically on concrete roads Puzzled surrounding, locked in codes Straight faces, scanning smoke Lifeless existence, a solemn joke. Just then something knocks my brain A figure holding umbrella, when there’s no rain Peace struck shape, no layers of
While my ten fingers are busy forming the letters into words, A thousand thoughts forming in my mind as it creates something to accord. A tons of things to ponder and wonder, A lot of imaginations to expand and discover.
Duke of the East, O righteous Khalīfah! Thou reign with the divine inspiration. Thou art a holy leader, As the Book of the Prophet states. Successor of the decent Muḥammad. “Blessed are thy deeds,” Thy loyal subjects pray to the
A storm cracks it’s thunder at me I look out to the faded death of night I’ve made myself a scrapbook of memories First is the woman, in dim gravure She throws her clothes at strangers Her life is loneliness,
There is a voice in me, I listen to barely. Invisible as phantom shadows, It haunts me, taunts me. I sip some poison Inebriated; It flaunts me. It knocks me off, Scissors me in two, ‘Good or evil, whose baby
If Only I had listened to her, She would now be here with me. Not another nameless figure In another emotionless list Of those gone from this world of the living. I was too preoccupied in my own world While
goats ate all the flowers before chased by farm girls all the little rumps flee so pleasant over the grass bees in the clover formal in their golden dresses get their stockings dirty smelling like sneezes there’s a raccoon by
My mind Is a wandering albatross! It soars High-up Into the azure blue sky Over the seas And oceans Where no other bird flies! It does not Look for land To descend after a long And tiring flight! It is
A demanding desire Soaring up Chasing me to the outskirts of Contagious passion To enhance the beauty Deliberately smuggling in All the reachable resources Every chemical blend That would add the fineries Often tranquil imitations Rousing up the glamour In
You’re a scholar, I’m a scholar, and everyone’s a scholar! Similar uniform, “Different coloured tie around the collar” Giant classroom, lessons and tests, “We’re always learning” So many tutorials we attend, “It can be very concerning?” People are busy and
The wind swept trees stand tall like Hercules with all his strength, for here in this place lies the dead and dying of mankind. Here in this turmoil we also see God. Within the desert the winds are stirring again
She’s as dark as midnight, dark as pitch, darker than the foulest bitch Give your dark heart to me Your presence torments every part of my body I dream about you so passionately My dreams are the regrets of my
Back in bygone days- one might have been amazed by all the tricks and trappings of the fool now that we are here- royalty is rarely near and what has cycled in is to be cool not-with-standing out- crystal clear-
Death sits in wait in the empty valley of your sleeper cell. The confession of a guilt liberates the funeral of a martyr. Give me your breasts for a modular test. Don’t let the milk go waste. Your pearly teeth
Mother, one day I’ll tell you all. How they had kissed me, What hotel rooms I’ve been to, Which promises I kept Which ones I ran away from. Mother, one day I’ll light a cigarette Before your surprised eyes. And
There once Lived a man named Mr McDocks, he loved one thing and THAT thing was clocks. He fixed them and sold them; he had his own shop, he treasured them always; it JUST wouldn’t stop. He had watches, grandfathers
A double minded man is unstable in all his ways, His trials and tribulations shall rule his nights and days. Like the sea driven by the winds and tossed, His very own soul will be his final cost. He wants
I am your child,yet you choose to ignore that fact I am your flesh the fruit that proved other trees that said you can not bear wrong. I shamed your enemies Wrapped their faces in shame with believe that you’re
Camping in the outback of Manning Park. In the approaching twilight created by the “Grand Master”. A blend of majestic colors have addressed the eastern skyline. Soft hues of mauves, leading the eye into hints of blended greys and pastel
If only I had a döppelgänger, I’d peacefully live my life of languor, Entirely at my own sedated pace, For me he’d run with rats of human race. Then, entirely at my own leisure, I could entertain my simple pleasures