Contemplation poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of contemplation poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on contemplation are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Cats are running around Besieging all the burrows in sniffing jestures, Blackened spirits in utter desperation Seeking quivering mouse on holes. Mouse that are born on conscience depth Brought up with faint knowledge To charm the graves of moral saints
The incessant lapping of ripples, Sounds of waves that swell and fade, Mask all the murmurs and whispers Of amblers on the moonlit promenade. The hovering darkness of the night, Ignored by the roaring sea outright, Rising and falling to
Give me a cup laced with poison, little cobra’s kiss graveyard……………. she is sleeping under the tree……. remembering the days of togetherness, kisses deep with a candle, unending……………… desire me, trap me…….surround me let me face my destiny…. cannot escape as
Did you know that Never knew none To know what’s what Poem let be done. Primitive the people Of the early days So is religion Founded yesterday. Media is a set-up Government is a fraud Churches, pure business Well-played, applaud.
Wisest of the wise always quote Poison for the poison is anecdote Hatred and contempt is to float From one boat to another boat At times a mote takes us- remote This is how humans promote Vices on the chest
Alone, perched upon the precipice, The Thinker, swathed in Olympian bliss, Thought thoughts of Truth and Power. The din to his ears did not rise, He did not witness Mankind’s demise From his lofty ivory tower. He fashioned fantastical fancies,
With my scrunched and bushy furrowed brow I often ponder the precise circumstances any thing to be born Tracing back lineage of self or arbitrary individual unpredictable as the Dow Reckoning a series of events sustained life similar to sowing
Though I clearly see Paralleling traits, Corresponding facets Astonishingly quaint, This complex, albeit moving, Prominent connection, Holds a minute blemish Worthy of reflection. Contrast, yes there’s one, A distinction can be drawn, For you’re rarely right, While I’m never wrong!
I gathered insufficient number of perceptions, because I put them into old bottles. I walked an endless distance from this permanent peak in the desert to the other camel hump. Is it progressing – It’s not in my hands. I’ve
What is timelessness but the kindness from gods’ eyes wrapping the world at sunset’s time? And eternity, doesn’t it stay hung from of each day’s last moment balance’s pan? Is not perpetuity smiling disguised in the bridal body of the
Her contemplation is blue, like Monalisa’s portrait; That smilingly caresses with her latent tears. Nobody knows, When She cravingly sobs and; Where she wishfully cries; And who knows? When, she’d sacrifice her next smile; Her every smile in love. Her
Like a fallen angel am I Unloved and unwanted Distressed and disturbed of heart Unable to die and too pained to live. I exist like the walking dead In the realm of the living Waiting for that elusive grace For
Autumn is our conscience. Vast expanse of blue sky nurses it, white clouds occasionally cover it up, cool air quickly cleans the blockade. Autumn is short lived. It wears peaceful colors. Monk like contemplation wraps it up by logic and
an ever lasting night, darkness etched everywhere. screams emanating, throughout the land. pain calls forth, sheer agony cleansing and purging, reaching beyond skies threatening souls, in this fear borne, in this night, silent suffering, silent contemplation, of the storms, following
Morning came and dreams walked out, A savage life was knocking my door With harsh iron hands holding an unpalatable casket Loading grey flowers of troubles having colorful multitudes Immaterial my blinking desire, my aversion and perturb It ran in
This life takes that which may be taken and avows that Which is without comprehension, Embodiment unreasoned, seeking purpose, it Navigates with pain and pleasure, Yet not with both in equal measure, rather as season dictates Upon which emotions soar
A rare bird is he with feathers illuminous red and green; a bird that only few will ever see and perhaps ’twas meant to have been. This bird flies free over mountains and through the mind of a dream; escaping
Travelling with along, stout dark man In the burstling city thoroughfare Talking incessantly about immediate enjoyment Of unnatural genre was of good old days, When we found ourselves shopping Delusion in cramped dimly lit economic pub Where the roaring music
Poem Dedicated To My Father Late Moinuddin Hasan–An Ideal Teacher- BEFORE TEACHERS’ DAY Moinuddin was his name,eloquent, which means— One who is an aide to faith and for that weens He lost his father when only six months and mother,
My heart beats, thirsting for your love; A sweet song of joy echoed from above To fill my soft-corner with pure delight; Listening to your love verse in the night We walk together in the candlelight; Let me embrace you
I am ﬂesh and blood and feelings Amongst other things.. But I am ﬁrst and most importantly ﬂesh.. skin, bones, muscles, blemishes, pimples, scars freckles, moles, and dry skin and blood – running through my veins, gushing out of scraped
i will not marry you, because of your color i will not marry you because of your nationality yes, i will not marry you for your faith i will not marry you for your social status for our political differences
Ushering in a shadowy day, Coral Sky is twisting slowly away From whispering white to sombre grey The gently passing time is slain, From bones of those who did succumb Ushering in a darker day. Blue pastel skies will fade
Darkness and quietness all around me Except for your constant tick Doesn’t that painfully prick! So trick the play and take the pause I’ll applause and I swear not to be cross. You always march, night and day Where is
Sometimes lurking in corner. Sometimes tumbling down endlessly, and sometimes with frozen smile immolating oneself before an idol to be. He danced imprisoned in a glass case whole life. Overcoming the pretentious inhibition to stand naked in dimlights of arguments.
I shall like to live my life as a Promethean poem And steal to earth God’s most sacred fire from heaven! Which prosody, a psalm of echoes in efflorescence; Which beauty, its raison d’être, the extant of essence; Which truth,
When the dawn does break, The earth it is asleep, The sun stretches its shadows, Along empty streets they creep. The tweeting of the birds, The shrill sound of their song, The twittering and the chattering, They talk the whole
I had a chance meeting with a quiet fellow No, we did not meet Didn’t even share a breath Unsure if it was male, female or hermaphrodite Still it was unlooked for Rising in a predawn hour, ready for the