Dedication poems weaved in emotions studded with generous intimate thoughts for someone special and presented through poetry. Each poem on dedication is a piece of gratitude that fills the heart with extreme humbleness. While reading these dedication poems, you might think of people who touched your soul and made a difference to your life. Remember, such people are rare and these poems are all about that.
I’m stuck with mixed feelings, All the layers of emotion peeling, I ought to be happy and glad, Instead it’s bittersweet with more sad, I miss my best friend – my dad! It’s always the happy times, That are filled
He stands so tall, and shining bright We marvel at the sight Of one who teaches, sound and true. Who longs for love for me and you From God. Who else could give this gift? This feeling that will surely
Of beauty, culture and history you are the perfect paradigm, As you resonate through our hearts like a gentle chime. It’s your birthday for the sixty fifth time, We belong to you, just as words do to a mime. Many
As I sit across and gaze into those beautiful eyes, Its all so pure, no pretense without any guise. A faithful alliance I see, A dedication that never deserted me. An individual who loved without reasons, A person who did
This is a post dedicated to the crazy people who were and who are out there. Life shows new things every day, Some are sad, Some happy. Some are interesting, Some dull. Some make us cry, Some make us laugh.
Caught up in chores dreary beset with tedium mundane In a state devoid of passion caught in all trivialities inane Sapped of most evident ardor whilst trying to just sustain Endeavors notwithstanding but balance couldn’t maintain Removed from indulgences I
I witness the sparkling stars! Amidst the daily wars! The world that had a touch of gloom, Is now gardened only to bloom! My heart filled with morning dew, Never hesitates to embrace something new! I could feel my fantasies
Arrest this lament this false flag of endeavor star eyes at elsewhere parachute of the midnight aplomb splendor soils christened by an exorama defouled by a parasite cancel who are you in the liturgy of night? nameless index of heathen
When I discovered a lake in me, on surface some moonlight When I found some wildflower and sun rays permeated my being, When I got every answer and a saturated silence, deep inside a sweet thing called life smiled I
There’s an empty hole Left behind Heartache and sorrow are entwined In every action, thought and feeling I have A big part is missing since you have passed Sadness tainting memories with lost hope Externally showing to all I can
She wasn’t taller than her doll-house. She was still writing to Santa Claus. Dark curly hair and wide open eyes she piously kneeled piercing the skies. She smiled to Heaven and silently said: ‘With this heart I Thee wed! ‘.
Let the poppies be a sole reminder of those who went before us. ‘Lest we forget.’ On this special Remembrance Day, a day to celebrate those battlefield fights. In Remembrance of a soldier that give all from his heart, fighting
Would you wash the dishes always, like you promised? Would you pamper me silly? Would you embarrass me with an off-tune karaoke dedication? Would you get drunk on a Monday night and proclaim your love for me over SMS, sitting
Fernando, I do sincerely extol thee. You were as much passionate in symphony as you were in death, which you faced willfully. Cursed were the cruel war machines that silenced thee. But still to celestial heights they lifted thee. For
Our freedom began with the historic words At the midnight when the world sleeps India will awake we did wake to freedom It’s now the sixty ninth year of freedom But what sort of freedom is this A handful of those
Love is a powerful thirst, The basic chemistry, Promoting feelings Of a survival instinct. It has many guises, With emotional variations, Intimacy of passion, In a deep bond. Often one-sided commitment, Always arriving unbidden, Without passion, a mere dedication, That
Wake up in the morning with no stress,feeling love in excess even forgot my address forget all the bad of men with no regrets turn around on my bed touch my woman and compliment her nightdress touching her hips and
Often have I swept the floor, the veranda, the yard and all the passages of the house. I do not know whether as dedication or devotion the rough hand of the housewife has, by my daily use, swept our household
He was the first man your eyes opened to.. The shivering hand that touched your tiny nose.. The strong arm you cuddled on.. His love that kept brimming but never spilled.. Those eyes that made everything seem within reach.. That
This is my portrait of you. It speaks to me in strange, colored verses, in whispered codes of ancient languages. I often get that illusion. You are not easy to ignore. I’ve long studied its dog-eared corners, one by one,
In the ancient lives of the comrades who speak and heroes and sheroes who sleep, Sailed in the dim hopes of them who stood stubborn to believe did I, They lay captive at the merciless grip of the local oppressor
See the amazingly ironical sky Many stars are larger than the planet Still they seem to be some sort of fly I can feel my eyes becoming a electromagnet. Feeling the silence of the peaceful sigh Giving the problems yet
A dented version of an old grudge, blackened lips with an elite song, your relentless search ends in a terminal shock, nursing a green wound. That anguish was still there, and the wild anger sprawled on hidden fractures, false teeth,
When the facts and figures did not add up When the bank account was empty, and also the cup When I was tired, weary, and worn, feeling all washed up From Illinois to Wisconsin, from Mississippi to California You have
Angelic, able-bodied and adventurous amateurs aimed awkwardly at associates after attempting another assassination. Beleaguered, beaten and broken beasts barely breathing; bathed in beautiful basins. Begging became boasting beyond borders and busty brides blushed before being bought by bashful brutes. Camps
My prayers are not prayers And my penance is not penance, Remarkable, the patience you show, Admirably greater than mine, I assure; Incomparable, thy dedication, thou Dried and dried under the hot sun, With no food nor drink, continuing endure,
Nineteen is leaving it is a blue thing a toxic sea that for nearly a year Rising in me now drips from fingere tips into buckets morning buckets dinner buckets buckets at the bedside buckets I have too much pride
The golden pot of Education Education, education, education This is the most powerful weapon one can use to conquer the world. In the modern world we are living in life without education is just like a veld without plantation .
My better half in life alias wife lay tired & fatigued while toiling at the house chores for days & months I could see her charm gradually dwindling her anger terribly rising by leaps & bounds I got worried and
When you entered into my barren life, My heart felt happy with your illumination. A chapter of new beginning was written, And new chapter was meant for rumination. Seeds of relationship we sowed yesterday, Now seem to be curious for