Denying poems bring the best collection of short and long denying poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great denying rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these denying poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on denying are here for you.
For years I have been plagued with insecurity Only to have believed to find myself And with a gust of inspiration I took a chance to share happiness But like a winter’s harvest There was nothing left to salvage at
I shall never forget that there are the unfortunate ones who would give anything just to be able to have one moment of recall. But they cannot, because of sickness or disease. Our hearts cry out for these, and may
My gypsy soul, my gypsy soul, oh we are on the move once more. To hidden valleys and secret places, to hear the ocean’s almighty roar. I long gave up in denying the yearning of opening my wings to soar.
(Britain, post-referendum) Dear Mister Prime Minister, Was it worth it? Was it worth cutting off Our country’s trade benefits, our commodity trade, Like the testicles of a prizewinning bull? Was it worth it? Was it worth tightening our borders, Like
Life sans light They are sitting in a remote dark room to relax without switching on light. For they want a real light that brings peace and solace in their laborious humdrum life. They toil from dawn to dusk without
Sound of footfalls was drawing near; the tiger has been set free. In the wild landscape you need some feverfew. Death was constantly stalking to trade off the dolls in lieu of sameness of the stones. The shifting sand drips
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
Alone inside but, encircled by people invisible to any significance in your eyes, Empty and sorrowful, even a smile is too expensive for you, there is a whisper in you, a hushed voice, the only drive that pushes anything to
Your scintillating albedo, enters my soul, Pouring your smell, splendid in dole, Love’s act of mime, in shadowy cloud, My soul speaks lie, seeking you aloud, Dreary your play, tests my patience, Your shadow forwards, your eclipsing cadence, Veiling the
Meaninglessly traversing into the havoc of vanity With a fake logic justified, Leaving the players into the deathly chasm. A Blue bottle game denying the soul of life! Two and two they say ten, And it is their game playing
Love is super, love is supreme, love is an ever flowing captivating stream. Love is forgiving, love is so kind, love can be sweeter than the finest of wines. True love will stand the test of time. Love is Divine.
It’s in the morning; your words tear my heart into pieces, What breakfast is this? No sugar simply tasteless, Son, what kind of woman you married? Cant dress well, can’t cook well, is simply disorganized, Even can’t wear shoes, she
The young romantic couple dreamt of moon light meet He was all in Ecstasy as the night started setting in with the Milky moon gradually balooning on the horizon He was on cloud nine dreaming of his beloved anticipating her
I long for lost horizons, for castles in the dale For wise and mighty dragons, and painted ships that sail For wizards in the towers and kings upon the throne Enchanted swords a-blazing, swift arrows straight and long I long
For in all that foraging, through the minds eye To kindle the peace; to wounds You might try to placate With words, in that private high. To some, you would care With their souls laid bare And their supplicants made
Standing among the ruins of what Used to be a thriving little gold fever town I swore I heard music and laughter coming From the half-moon saloon, I walked around But nobody could be found still I could of Sworn
I painted a pitted brick wall whitewashed it with a sable round brush size 0 blotting out my memories in every rough pit a map of hell surely torture and death can’t last forever grinding lime tasting sweat snowblind I
Every night this body becomes a dissecting knife a crime scene of blood and unstrung flesh, the lamb spreads the wool for a deadly charge of skull plate with a gift of mathematics a moon cutout in sky before the
Solo, I am clock maker born September 22nd, a Virgo/Libra mix insane, look at my moving parts, apart yet together, holes in air, artistic perfection, mechanical misfits everywhere, life is a brass lever, a wordsmith, an artist at his craft.
I feel this ever looming wrath. It comes from within. Sure to destroy everything in its path. But as this soul would come out. The whisps of smoke will arise. Rotten a cadaver only will be perceived. A thousand clouds
When I sit alone and reminisce I constantly think of what I miss The years have gone so quick somehow Memories of you, so distant now Unanswered questions still linger on…. Why did you do it? Why not confide in
Tears, the salt of our soul, overflow Between life and death, recalling sweet Memories and dreams of the past, Flushing out from eyes, cleaning dejection And depression, to rejoice fulfillment, With battles, hazards and agony we had. Recalled my old
Our age is a deciduous tree, sheds yellow desires every year makes room for new ones in the spring of opportunity. Some desires resemble oak leaves, cramped and brown- still cling in mothers’ bosoms like our plans, albums, possessions. Alas,
I cherished and cherished and cherished you Every moment dreaming of you As they say in the ad; Eat, drink and sleep you Every waking moment You stalked me Every living moment Day and night and evening I tried hard
A queer experience it is A feeling that defies description An emotion beyond expression Giving a daughter away , you don’t know how to name it . Is it a sense of self appreciation at having performed a parental duty
A thousand colors of heed, A thousand colors of need, A thousand words of greed, A thousand words to deed, A thousand days to waste, A thousand days to grace, A thousand reasons to wry, A thousand reasons to fly,
Dear Irma I have great respect for you as well as all who preceded and who will follow you. I have refused to take any of you for granted even though I have never experienced your presence. Even though we
It was not dark in a killing field. A primitivism has prevailed upon an intimate hate crime for brand mnemonics. A bronzed moon will come out tonight. The glances were missing and you – cannot see properly. The blue bird
Oh Lord Jesus, lover of my soul, He that shineth upon my poor heart. Cleanse me of every ungodly role that pierces thee like a fiery dart. Deliver my soul I beseech thee, from the deceiver’s ravenous jaws. Cause me
A hand without fingers draws a self-portrait. Faceless, only eyes glaring like bucketfull of burning coals. Was it not enough to call ‘wolf’. The pain scorches the compound where the blood of innocent flowed because somebody was burning woods. The
Life is all about trust, And using the right path to fulfill your lust. Life is all about giving your best, And training yourself so that you don’t rust. Life is all about setting your own principles and rules, And
Words, like thorns With poisoned tips: Drawing blood, Inflicting pain; The hurt becoming A blinding rage, Lashing out, so no one Dares again. *** And numberless years Of lashing out, Of building fences With barbed wires; To preserve, protect, Or