Decision-time poems bring the best collection of short and long decision-time poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great decision-time rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these decision-time poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on decision-time are here for you.
Beautiful eyes Imagine falling in love with someone you have never seen. Would you give your heart away to a mystery? What if you could fall head over heels, do you think you would try? Or would you run away
Sun sinks slowly twilight looks at the sun and waits for the night to fall with darkness Life also drowns like dusky sinking sun and ends with foggy dusk wearing evening gown A tiny thought sitting on highland stares at
Want to make a difference? then show love Love is something people can’t get enough When with their beliefs we don’t agree We need to love them you and me Let them see Jesus living within Let them see we
Say goodbye to the way things used to be, nothing ever stays the same and time is ever fleeting as our seasons change… so say goodbye to yesterday and all those lost hours that somehow have slipped away, nothing never
For everything, there is a season, it has been foretold. When I was young and green, securely clinging to the branches of my family Sugar Maple tree, I thought it was the best I would ever be. But here, now,
My arms ached rowing amidst the muddy water of the holy river.. My head reeled battling against the flighty stress carving my mind.. My eyes crammed pursuing peace, as I strived amid the holy river.. The night was dark my
In a temple without god, They performed a cryptcastration on a colossus, targeting a total annihilation, and liquidation of a beautiful saga. And then, layer by layer unspeakable pain was released. Nobody looked at my red eyes. Half dead, half
Words are left unspoken, feeling are listless We speak, but barely talk Venice was never so far Your silence kills me My effort is futile, the love we had is an empty boat Sailing with no hope to reach ashore
I greet admirers of Chocolate on 13 September International Chocolate day with the following poem; Momin & Aliza Momin is the name of my niece’s son Two years of age with frolic and fun Aliza is the daughter of my
Blessed Diana, thrilling phrases of love would make a paragraph, for your much distinguished and magnificent epitaph. Your slumber to eternity be likened to a sleeping beauty, who will be awakened by the kiss of a Seraphic Prince of immortality.
You, Filthy fingers that pinched my wallet Crooked skeletons in your closet Using every sliver of shade to hide your face In the blinding, piercing light of righteous day Heart smashing violently against your ribs As you scurry to seek
She knows how I feel, She know that its real..! But fate knows it better, Of what it has to cater..!! Chaos reigns in this love, Circumstances written from above..! We hope to change it, But dare not disrupt it..!!
Transient is the word am neither here nor there don’t feel this nor that neither cold nor warm. Traversing through the spectrum and yet not latching on, bygones are bygones learning to look forward. Nothing to look back at caught
Once I stumble upon a tiny kitten Amongst a pool of sweet flowers. Her blue beady eyes peeking through; Gleaming eyes full of wonder, On the side of a lonely road. Hiding neath the cover of flowers, Stealthily she moves
Love brings a sparkle of lust Or a tenderness of pure heart Tones of affection leaving you breathless for more…. Its voice caressing your soul We long to be loved and equally reciprocate. How can love break your heart It’s
I found this “Happiness” A bit, a while ago My mornings became brighter And nights more poetic Though my past days were happy There was something missing I dig deeper to know me But in vain it went for years
Sixties came and went, As the seventies rolled in I was born upon my mother’s breast Last of four kids, I was the baby of the family Seventies were filled of adventure, fun, and games Learning new faces and names
The mysterious rival: suffering of resignation. I am reading myself for the surrealism of life, juxtaposition of love and hate. Another blast went off. White rose and black rose in the same garland; ruins of truth were older than lies.
The storm has settled, the rush is dead. After everything that could have been, Flows pain, bloodred. Emptiness rises, The tree shakes no more, whirling tears, beaten down without a sore. The foundation burns, as the heart laid bare. What
An image was talking to you in your mind. There were fudged voices of foot soldiers of half-gods. I was scared of synthetic leaves and black stars. It was a most explicit blood dance baring-all, the hiss of cones. You
Reporting my story to you Live on CNN the Cable Network News Interviews with Christiane Amanpour So ambitious she wants to write my memoir Like TmZ hasn’t already asked for more Even though I’m so unknown Boy from the projects
Being a lass she was the synonymous to pretty, i tell you this as i could see, the more pensive she stayed, the more glint of verve you could observe I must have said. Compassionate, gentle and humane can be
Thump-thump-thump A foggy haze. Moving bodies It feels warm in here. Or is it just me? Darkness. Then light. Pulsating. Excuse me. My bad. Thump-thump-thump Who is that? Squint. Lean against the rail. Look cool. You want another drink? I
At ethnic moment on the moonfront, artless impressionists of parallel conflicts with anxious looks come to share the self realized truth of mangled uncertainties, watching your own dead body: small chicks huddle together for contemporary thoughts of violence-to kill or
Pale liberty, never thou art within people’s reach, Born and brought up in palaces old Under careful cradles of rulers bold Whom we often called bald despots. Thy brazen presence in statues gold Where static freedom hides in feared cold,
The earth’s shadow thrusts its fangs into the flesh of the moon, yet the moon remains silent, bleeding the heavy light over the waters. It wounds me; its muteness – I would like to hear it yelling as howls the
Moon-scented I walk in dark to put me back in place, unwithered, opening the inner casket for a glow. Pleading not guilty after killings in bed, of affectionate kill of lies, a black widow romps around with a flag of
Oh as delicate as a rose in full bloom As delicate as a multicolored butterfly Could this be the dream I dream of With both eyes opened wide oooh Makes my heart go boom, boom, boom… Every time you hold
When pinch of godly emotions diluted Into optical fusion of matted commotions And the whole concealed constellation Beguiled its proclaim in dismal dismay, Gurgling upsurges fused with a shy smile Amidst the mute chambers of heavy heads. Nothing like bleak
Time flies, gentlemen I know! Those days of pleasure and satisfaction Those moments of mischief and appreciation Those times of puberty and perseverance All those hours have gone But remain in the mind, to be remembered tomorrow. Those days of