Crackers poems bring the best collection of short and long crackers poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great crackers rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these crackers poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on crackers are here for you.
DEEPAVALI( a festival of light) Brace towards the D-day Deepavali is on the Way Get ready to blast away varieties of crackers all the way Take care to shy away from crackers which burst away Lit Eye catching flower pots
Born second amidst six siblings She was the quietest of all Her short stature was in no way deterrent to her extra ordinary skills She was the nightingale par excellence who could put the naughty kid to sleep, disturbed mind
Be my sleep, I tell a dream. A lantern was chasing the shadows on wall. My fever? I say, past one awakening I will sleep eternally. The age licks the grief of fallen pride. I was still walking on sharp
As we take a break before new year and congratulate ourselves for surviving Christmas and all the cheer. We’ve wrapped all our presents, exchanged them with loved ones, sampled tons of food, drunk lots of wine and beer. Onto New
Mince Pies and Clotted Cream go together like a dream. Like Jelly and Ice Cream Like Green and Red are Christmas colours Like Crackers go off with a bang Like Christmas lights all shiny and bright Like Carols sung at
Adieu the happy year, Run, run the Trojan horse Towards the servile marriage bed With all inglorious splendor. The deadly weeds of unhappy moments If ever entice you as dew fresh grass, If the supposed Helen with supposed charms Riding
Running, searching, seeking, looking for that sign The one that says your welcome, please come inside The sign that says your wanted The sign that says your mine Running, searching, seeking looking for that sign A red rose resting on
Fear grips a family of words. You are going to where you do not want to go. I remain worried about the unknown. The inevitable was flowering on dead palms. Would you exhume the past to find out, what the
The feel of leaf dust, Shreds rustling around, The sight of falling leaves, unencumbered my senses. Standing bare at some places, Orange and yellow in some corners; Trees, like traveling artists, Put on colorful plays, Changing attire at every stage.
A shrub has matured, acidic earth at the base. Evergreen growing with sun on its face. A journey so long, plucked with craft. With finger and thumb, then lovingly packed. Chosen with vision, experience of structure. The leaf so revered,
Never in those sizzling conflicts displaying the pink eyes you were able to reach me. Was it metagenesis, forgetting your selfhood? Fragments of a beast were floating on sea. Was umblicus of death broken in the crotch of a mother?
About The Bottomless Pitcher One that never fills but still overflows…. A barrel of water for some A bucketful of tears for the other A pocketful of love for one A volcano of fears for the other How do I
Most flowery words are designed to gyp, Know that I shun such manner of discourse, My speech proceeds in truth without a slip, With words untainted, coming from the source; My love is as the sea that rides so high,
In the tropical section of the Earth. There stays a period, Brimful of sufferings and pain. That tends to seek, Any and all drop of blood . Then the time has chosen a turn, And brought in a moderate silence,
Holy Aggie a morning near you was an age of enlightenment You exist ever in a sleepless dawn of scrubland fallow patches, rusting equipage, savaged stand of pecan a semicircle of bidders, smoke heavy in the hollows Fourteen and a
seething yet silent in land of outrage: strictures of life, my eyes will not see the setting sun; this was the blind spot before the battle starts and spine turns into ramrod in hot sun – to speak the version
One deep breath of what yet lies, Dream’s of shattered butterflies. For like myself their wings are torn, Silently broken they fly in mourn. Blade’s of silver shining in the light, Scarlet blood on my wrists, feels right. Flowing beads.
Inside my prose poem is happiness, happiness for all. Even the juicy parts don’t lack think material. I have it on good authority. My autistic Aunt says I should stop writing. Where are the beans? I was told in my
Bunch of flowers, fresh fragrant showers, timidly waiting for something. I hear a sound buzzing around, Where am I? Where I’ve been? Is it for real? Or, is it just a dream? Tinsel beads cover the trees, and the strolling
I left you there!… Between semicolons and dashes, lost inside the days of future past, stuck in your grammatical mentality and lyrical augmentations… Even when you raised your punctuation you could not decipher my heart’s alphabet… Your comma kept jumping
Drops splashed over, here and there Few settled quickly and others were queer Little clear spheres at times radiant with colors Looked like rainbows drawn so near.. Must have been bundles of joy to the child’s eyes, For it just
Trading the sweetness, a rainbow on icefalls, you will come back on rocks and drink the elixir of death. A fantastic dream of soap bubbles in a tumbler, ejecting the inky grief on the transparent glass. The pink goddess of
Under the vast canopy Of spotless blue sky With snow-capped hills as neighbours Rests the cute cottage blissfully In the midst of blooming flowers Far from the madding crowd Far from din and bustle Far from smoggy air space And
Hush Mind, Rest a while, While Truth I try to touch. Lead me not into Ego’s lanes, Lanes that into delusion end. Born of Nature, Thou nature to interfere, Handpicked maidens Thine, Thought and memory, Build layer of ignorance upon
I was ready to board the ship laden with terror on mortal waves. The patriarch was dying inside the sleeve of hidden rocks. Hope and death, death and hope flicker in dark. What if the blasts start again in the
For ages, her life has been A journey of endless strife Most of the times unrecognised Generation after generation Beautiful as a part of nature itself In whose lap she is born and brought up She grows up to attain
Every 20 seconds, its lonely voice cries Out to someone it will never meet like an ancient voice, never ceasing Through the cold rain and silent darkness Standing, waiting, as patient as time How many a forlorn sailor heard its
The world’s new code of conduct Misusing of office protocols to suit one’s taste Stocking stolen billions in banks and calling it your hard earned money A sweet temptation destroys people’s integrity is it’s goal Causing poverty as you milk
Yoga has been the core of Bharat Right from waking up to sleeping From a bath to a regular buffet, From sex to spirituality From birth to death Yoga plays an indispensable role Yoga is the heartbeat of the nation
Seeking vengeance Racing across the heavens at a frightening speed An unearthly fog spreads Consuming the moon and stars It creeps across the water Hotter then the sun A jagged bolt of lightning tears the sky in half Highly ionized