Crucifixion poems bring the best collection of short and long crucifixion poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great crucifixion rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these crucifixion poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on crucifixion are here for you.
On Christmas, Hegel smiles; No year stands up unless a year dies. No butterfly flies up, unless a cocoon is torn out. Crucifixion, dear gentlemen, is the ultimate dialect in the forest of a boring time. Crucifixion, dear ladies, is
… those nights, clear nights when I’m afraid that I’ll cut my flight on the brightest star and the wings of my thoughts will be burned on the pyre of forgetfulness of self before reaching the union of end with
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.
like ether, permeating all space mesmerizing, he walked away, head of his enemy in his hand, like a trophy? frighteningly orangish a decapitated body shudders. The holy war demands its price of a joke. The face of red and blue.
With roots wrinkled and parched, standing upright bluntly and lifelessly, And the green cloak being lost and you adore a thin skin of brown rusty bark falling in bits and pieces. The long chain of ants are seen no more
Right choices How can we make? Tracks of knowledge How can we take? Footprint of a thought A starting note Faithfully follow Roots of a willow Spreading so deep For the leaves to weep Diverging from one to another To
While I dread the monotony of days that pass me by, I relish in the lack of responsibility I deliberately choose for myself And the beauty of un-productivity that allows me to seep into the deep recesses of my thoughts
Why is it, That all around me People have flashes of inspiration, A seed that grows into something great, Something worthy of recognition? Why is it, That people I know Are so talented, so passionate That they’ve taken up their
Fill out the CAPTCHA. Prove you’re not a human. There are so many stupid humans spamming the site It’s gibberish – you can tell it’s a human because they can’t write. When bots do it there is soul and calculation
Energy falls down It fills the town It becomes matter One kind and another Some of us are aware Others don’t care We are flesh and bones We are matter like stones Some of us are kings And queens wearing
You become a chair. A dream sits in you for a graphic detail of pelvis. A trophy? Was it undecorous to present a cadaver walking on the earth? A serial killer wants a plaque on his grave after the verdict.
The oil came deep, from underneath. the earth could bleed, her blood was black. But men knew not___ they pierced her skin. It all seemed fair, but deep within. She cried aloud, and gasped for air. They took her oil,
Entering into hypersonic gridlock you become one of the crowd; remain devastated, slip into unconciousness, defer to a calibrated emblem and speak untainted. The debris was taking to the street. The trees were drinking from geyser basins, mutated restraint. The
Wisdom and Ignorance The ignorant always attack the weak in packs like vultures While wise men offer a way out of your worst troubles Some ignorant men even come as wolf in sheep’s clothing But are no match for a
Together we can make a difference Together we can bring in a little sympathy a little empathy A little compassion a little consideration Why do we need then such belligerence? Each revolution each change is always Weighed and tested on
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
When joy has fled the confines of your heart, And to sadness is where you sally forth, Had you been queen, still nary could you thwart, The glum where even clowns can’t be of worth; Some solace you might find
Am I Alive, or am I dead? Is this all just a dream inside my head? I feel like I’m losing my grip. Quick say something, anything before I slip. Nightmares slowly creeping. Has he finally come to do the
Love is a treasure chest. Nestles in the chest, Holds kindness, and care. Soft as flower, Often weeps, and wilts. Yet, strong as steel. Weathers winds of storm A wonder it becomes! The Taj, an emperor’s dream. His queen’s home!
Moments of blur, moments of clarity, Moments of us, moments of rarity… It’s the illusion of reality we call life, when it really is just a metaphorical rife… I see us together, yet far apart. Maybe it’s the agony of
Deep within the life of these brittle bones of man, a song stays hidden, so slow yet so powerful; it plucks the strings of our veins reminding us that the shallow roads are meant to be left astray. The words
The blue sky and azure ocean, Dawn changing the aura of morning sky, Incandescent yellow rays of sunlight, Magnificent clouds billowing, mesmerizing charisma of rainbow, Sunrise and Sunset a magnificent golden orange hue, Brightly colored birds, Peacock’s display of iridescent
Friend, not a companion but one who understands. Years, distance and time does not come between us. How pleasant are our sparse reunions. You’ve comforted, have always been there for me. Not only in my hour of need but also
Life happens. Traipsing on, a path to eternity… The paths unknown, the sands not seen Yet the hearts, tuned to the thought, Love is our lives, lives are for love. The music settles, on our souls.. Gripped in the depths,
Green, glistening eyes Like beautiful emeralds They must be jewels in disguise Mischeivous, daring smile Laughing at her and looking all the while Sense of humour Never fails to beguile. Accepting her for who she is That is all she
Unslept- hangman, flees from the noose. The day had come to execute. A thought had become a fear but fear was not a thought. Naked in the moon a wolf wants move of something leaning on the hills of thirst,
Dreams are the lofty, tall majestic mountains on which you can never climb, Dreams are the elusive mirages which always deceive you, Dreams are the seven colours of the rainbow which never colour you, Dreams are the silver glitterati of
Europe my realm and my prized possession, I instill in thee our novel ideals, for your feudal laws our conquest repeals. Our boisterous wind of emancipation liberates Spain from draconian inquisition. Of the proud Brit’s stupendous earning power, an Egyptian