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,
A scented moon caves in on a tree top and solitude withers up in a seminal cloud, It is good to be friendless sometimes. Me and homecoming become synonymous. We are ruined by familiar paths. The mist deepens. Not reaching
Am unwell, perhaps the flu. I read an advertisement about a book exhibition and I think about you. Lots of books, little catches my fancy, poke around and pick a few, my eyes fall on a ‘Rs 50 only’ sign,
The successful man has talent. Talent, perhaps developed, perhaps discovered. And so he works, to become better. The successful man has money. Money to fund his talent. His talent, which will lead to his success. The successful man has friends.
A black rose blossomed in the snow forlorn it stood freezing in bitter cold alone and pining for a loving touch.. love went to pluck it and take it home to adorn a crystal flower vase the sly thorn pricked
Sometimes I think; is it pertinent to be minute About nature’s details, to breath her full? The overjoyous soul to an overall vision, Deprecated as naive in God’s grand feast. When the clouds are deep and too black Enveloping the
I forgot, was it me in a body pile draped in dust, still hot, bruised, burnt, a mad megalomaniac starting a civil war, creating suicide bombers, young virgins inhaling death? This journey under the guns, displacing hapless thousands, will reach
Bomb our buildings, buses and trains, Bleed us till you’ve emptied our veins, But however evil be your goal, You won’t destroy our soul, It’ll take more than that… You want us to be cowed and down, But we will
A home full of poltergeists doesn’t sleep. Lights turn on, off, bulbs blow, glass Like shrapnel shreds soles until swept up. But the linoleum stays stained and the stains Shift and fade to resemble faces, fade again. Leaving only the
I truly love Canada always my home though if I could this planet I’d roam India fascinates me chaos and all China’s a mystery that long friggin’ wall Cuba’s resilient they keep trudging on more than paid for their sin
In his short spaceless life Discordant happiness plays foul, A missed chance heavy price demands. He sought another that never was for him As he feared his utter laziness And never spelt her adored name Before eastern Sun broke forth…..
Released, freed weeded out off my inner confinements today.. Gone by wasted times dust pollen cleared away ! Heaviness of heart wryly sneered past feelings at bay.. My free spirit tickles senses..for now ..it is fully awake ! Mirror reflection,
Identification of the Cutest Creation Ever! ‘He’ or ‘It’- What should I call? A God’s creation that came into existence, Thirteen years ago. A creation of flesh and bone, Purely naïve and totally ignorant About the cruelties and cleverness Of
Here we are, amidst the roaring chaos, Amidst the turmoil of a sanguine sea Where lightning strikes furiously across Encumbering clouds of serenity. The wind has torn your bones to white splinters And left your hearts to the mercy of
That’s the coldest yet, the words on my father’s lips, each night from October to spring, as he stood at the back door shaking the East Belfast rain off his coat, and stamping the mud off his Shipyard boots, before
At that time I was thinking something else when you gave me a half-kiss, my winter naked moon. A souvenir left by sun for the sake of night. I remembered pink roses unpetaling green thighs- for quest of shelter in