Deciept poems bring the best collection of short and long deciept poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great deciept rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these deciept poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on deciept are here for you.
The man of her life treats her like gold, So she cries Because she knows Her secrets would break him inside And would crush his soul, So to protect him she lies As her secrets are something that she holds
When I die, Bury me in those pages, Which failed to become My identity, my stages. Let me lie close To those verses, Those prose, Which never truly dealt With the emotions I felt. In my death Let me be
We met, a random act of coincidence We talked, I figured we had some sort of relevance Never in my time has someone lent me an ear so much, trust me I commend your patience Small talks, random brawls, A
The fair sex Taking care of self In her own ways Making up herself. The womankind Surprises entire mankind Self-defining muliebrity Softness and effeminacy. Still tough to toil In and outdoors But fully satisfied Needing no more. Self-dependent And self-reliant
Spinning someplace in the blackness of space, A peculiar world hosts an unhuman race. Rethink reality, abandon earthly notions; Here, cerulean seas – There, prismatic oceans. Macro quantum motion; Instantaneous locomotion – No need for roads, Teleport to go; No
I want the hair of that Latino boy long in front and swept up an etched obsidian wing to hell with the rest of him slumped, slack, waiting for school day’s start listening with his eyebrows independent as two plump
Rain falls down, Thunder to the ground, Ice and snow, Colorful as a rainbow, Spring, summer, winter, fall, Do you know them all Minjuki, Minjuki, What did you say, Minjuki, Minjuki, What did you say, Lightning crackles, The black bird
The panther goes for the neck only. A body trembles on the stairs. Scarred bones are strewn around in the broad day light. I sometimes hear a wailing sound. Here lies the scarf, the coat, the shoes. A nation is
One time above a little shop, An old greengrocer climbed on top, Despite himself he could not stop, The world had changed forever. The fruit of that old grocers loins, Became obsessed with notes and coins, She knew the club
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
Memories of a friend that was in the past, Memories of a friend that will always last, Memories of the times that will never be Forgotten. “Oh how those days were but They just didn’t last.” Roll back the time
Did I ever tell you of that time I watched You skinny dipping in Wauconda bay… The moon was full and bright, nothing was Hidden outta sight…I swore someday Somehow in this lifetime I would make You mine… Well and
The hollowed eyes were ringed with lines, The parchment skin was cracked and old, The tattered rags that served for clothes, Gave scant protection from the cold. Yet on that corner every day, Without regard for wind or rain, He
April 9th 1929, my father gasped his first breath of air Head populated with black curly locks No pediatrician at his home birth, when he uttered that initial blare Nor preschool instructors extant to teach him building blocks Inherent in
She falls in love with you the way you portrait yourself.. She falls in love with all the fanciful words you used to describe her She falls in love with you whenever you tell her that she has a virtuous
Was that a non-devil effort to hide the language from cultural onslaughts? The anger splits the opinion about hurting goodness. An isolated insult will spur the words against the flight over the answer, before the brush with picketing fear, showing
Fathers are trees whose roots are so deep and strong that we cling to them for ever Eventually we get lost into them that gives a different pleasure Now when my father has gone far away from me desire of
Here are stoves uttering trilling cries of joy, their tongues orange, their clothes henna. Here are chumps hissing، lulling, bowing and crying with hot tears; We’ve got a newborn, his hair made of winds and tempests, his hat a cloud,
Born out of hate condemned to fear each other, the race lives, the race dies. The loser finds a quotient to dig a mass grave for innocent paeans. My stains were bigger than you. In no man’s land, a corpse
In the absence of a consenting moon half my night was in disarray, the density of poems was draining out the grape wine from the eyes. This amphitheater of your life: where you are spectator and you are a player,
Cutting across the food wars against adamant century do you think we will become extinct in this uncool climate? The dying windows do not throw any light. I fear in dark alone. The earthworms are nibbling at history of mankind.
The Seed of love planted by the river of amity hoping for an perpetuity life, Creating roots for the foundation of our love. The root of our love grows with a boundless destination in quest for vigor not to let
Today I know why God made me a human The species of agony,love and ideas I was involved in weaving my success When at sixteen I lost my heart to someone That person was a temptress The evil and saviour
Rain on my pane, Making a mirage of raindrops, You may drizzle, Come as a downpour, Or take me into a tempest. Touch me when lonely, Weave into my heart, Dripping with comfort, Soaking the soul, In your silent ways.
Autumn is one of the four seasons of all Here, the leaves of the trees do fall. Night spreads it’s darkness prematurely And cold ascends with it cavalierly. Nothing’s different in the autumn of life Where the wrinkled cheeks and
Let’s paint these walls red, With the blood of our dead. Of the lost and wounded, the sad and depressed. Let’s paint that chair green, With the leaves of the trees. The trees cut down, every day, week, month, year.
The very essence of love is uncertain, A relentless thumping of the heart. I must speak to you by such means as they are within my reach. He pierces my soul driving me into madness. I am half agony, half
A lovely feeling, surprisingly drenched in passion, an emotion that’s fleeting, but stronger each time, spilling from my soul, with ink on paper. I wonder at my own predicament, in a fearless emotion, that isn’t tangible, the sculptures of a
Have I been born of a curse; Rehearse The station just burst, A hole through it first; So it is like to be at the mercy, of this jury decided on perjury. A trial without annihilating the evil inside me,
While you are engrossed by a mourned silence within, Abruptly! You get caressed by a love, like a Ghost orchid, and you glide along, submissively! He is an enchanter to the astray, and like a wild fire, on an iceberg,
I am tired of my rants like a millions hammers pounding away in my brain constant chatter drowns sanity expectations love and affection comfort insecurities and misadventures regrets lost and found a million lives not lived what could be and
If you are reading this letter, Then your fear has now turned into anger. Our appointment on 26th March… For my absence did not emerge. I wish I could imagine how you felt. Lover’s tears when his beloved has sailed?
Those were the delights.. I fail still to hide The mere thoughts of liberty… I seldom mind Those were the agony… Once breathed within the skin That blissful hell… Where I might have been Those were the delights… Still engraved
Your heartbeat pulses against your grace filled throat as a lamb lined up in a row when the spring wind is blood scented and flowers are faint–mild, bee thrummed, delicate beneath the harsh metallic flavor that makes your mind swirl