Criminals poems bring the best collection of short and long criminals poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great criminals rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these criminals poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on criminals are here for you.
There it was, A beautiful villa, Complete with lots of guards, From inside a cry would be heard, And the moaning of a person in agony, The mission would be in progress The new slaughter house, Trained untamed boys into
The vagaries of life had shattered me down, Made me a coercive slave, submitting to dealers’ erotic frown, But I felt those moments with an absconding pain, As you came to, my life of lame. Your night of birth was
Born in the filth and dirt, mocked and jeered everywhere, shouted and screamed at always, with the vision of people coming home with bloody hands and a gun in pocket, ever said to be born with a fate like that,
Thou, fragrance, you are the only one, in this universe, Liked and welcomed by all, with no hesitation, nor dislikes, Agreeing with everyone’s tastes and joining hand in hand, With anyone, rich or poor, regardless of their virtues and vices.
The innocent and lovely creatures are crying, crying bitterly every moment, For their beauty is their curse; One can not listen to the cry, As it is disgracefully buried by the devils in the inaccessible depth of the secret world,
Ever since I was woken up by weapons Ideological balloons are shooting at me. Scared by an advertisement dream I am hiding in reality Which is beating me with a bloody rod! To shoot or not to shoot – to
It is not on you, dear poet, but on your Nation, and its rulers, spread all over Their body, mind and soul; irreparable, Their cancerous thoughts and deeds; ‘The red salute’, they offer to all, a mean, Cheap and cruel
The kitchen staff left a slice of cake out. all the while, stacking chairs on tables, scraping the grill, through the ravenous inhale of the vacuum cleaner, it sits like an unscaled peak framed in the lights of the pass-through.
Scribbling down the essence of my heart, Writing down the unsaid words so easily, Hiding it with those blank pages, Which will be filled with the same sweet agony, How I know the pre-written destiny, And still giving my all
Cast down thy irreverent staff of judgment! Train your thoughts of vile intention upon thyself Cohort in honor to know thy standing before another Turn ambiguous behavior to the good of another’s help! Upon the wish and hope of future
Desk, empty because, you bullied her. Left her feeling worthless. Took all her courage, made everything seem hopeless. Never the one to ask. All she wanted was acceptance. She never wished, anything, but a friend to feel her presence. Hurtful
Judgements of deception plagued my mind, Following an artificial shadow with no hope. Having problems from cognitive growth, Learning was considered a form of witchcraft. No intentions of committing remorseful acts, Yet sinned horribly with clouded viewpoints. Jinxed by the
Gaze into the mirror at the face behind the mask and wonder if it’s really you, or don’t you dare to ask? Who can know what lies beyond the mirrors fragile face, reflections of another life; another time or place?
Some people are capable of the most cowardly acts ever committed Of wounding a poor vulnerable homosexual’s body until he desperately cries his lungs out mortified Inflicting deep wounds of the flesh and then watching him slowly faint into unconsciousness
Let’s go somewhere far, Somewhere where I’d hold you tight. Hand in hand. Wherever you’d like. Whether train or plane. An automobile or an boat. Either way will be home in justification. Journeying through each other’s eyes, a different aspect
“I see words…….. psychedelic words…. fluttering all around and I am stupefied! for they are talking……. like I don’t exist and they ignore like I don’t matter! But they don’t go away even when I scream and shut my eyes
I am an American Poet coming from a long line of creatively challenged penman and women A Poet Prince relinquishing the earthly flow of jobs and declarations while punishing establishments organizations that diminish the fabulous flow. A lifeline for civilizations
There she stood in the dark, Dark hair billowing around her, Her body, a perfect hourglass… Skin; her skin was so smooth, Smoother, even, than a surface of glass, Glass-like she was, oh-so-fragile… Her lips were full and red, Redder
Love is all that she has And giving it is her passion. So beautiful, adorable and serene Are her thoughts And just so are her actions. With courage she walks And with strength she fights, Not to hurt, not for
My strength,my powers I can now do anything, whatever I wish I can even strive conflicting waves of life I will use my power to averse bad things My strength,my powers. I will use my powers to help others I
‘The light that shines upon the door And spread fine glitters on the floor Comes from the beam of the moonlight That slowly sweeps the cloudless night So come my love, on this terrace Let us sit then and find
This must be for real? gasped the yellow budded calyx That must be true. Answered the wasp. Time for me to lapse into another – those petals. But which of you is for real? Questioned the bud again. Said the
Waiting for a chaste bread, whole life under the moon, to speak off the inconsistency of happiness, with a monologue of a needle in eyes for a madness of sublime verse. Canoeing in a frozen lake for a stranded rose,
Lo and behold that feeling once more has returned To tease, test and torment dead past willfully spurned From window shut forever heard unmistakable creak A portent of ensuing havoc and destruction it’ll wreak Dilemmas deemed sorted in archives since
Dreams never stay the same, They change frequently. Your goal is not a game- As others would see. From an athlete, To social service. You don’t compete- But you never miss. Once those become an illusion, You’re finding new dreams.
From Time’s first stirring of momentary dread Hope is crushed by tyranny where what might be lies broken Under a brightly garnered garland a siren of sweet promises. As if the stains of blood and tears were sweet red wine
Spiral staircase, Damp wooden floor, Mighty spider’s shelter- an ominous grey cobweb, Flakes of wall Integrated the mansion. The landlord was superannuated from life Without taking his pension. The dark lonely aisle struggles To utter some bright stories, Throwing light
What kind of God would treat us this way? In mankind the wide spectrum between evil to good can be found. In some, such kindness, while in others a wickedness not to be believed is in play. The ancients believed