Dependence poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of dependence poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on dependence are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Do not depend on anyone The world is not yours The tears in your eyes is just A regret because of other’s cause Hold your breath and try to feel the restlessness It’s just same as your soul feels Entrapped
Suddenly I hit upon a question, But where to find the answer? In the Wikipedia or to be Googled, Totally was I bamboozled. To relieve myself I took to Facebook, But my Dad showed me the text book. Next then,a
Busiprione, klonipin, prazosin and prozac stepford wives vis a vis stimulants offering an emotional uplifting dalliance cathartic against the depredation of panic attacks melancholia and obsessive compulsive disorder bearing down hard against psychological maladies delivering a near ecstatic state of
Spirited Life is sweet morose life is sour calm life is steady Angry life is misery Smiling life is refreshing Condition of mind dependence upon one’s Life’s conduct If fickle minded , Life is uncertain If a happy mind, Life
This place is always a little lonely At the weekends…no noise and life; I like solitude, But not in places Where there’s recently been A lot of people. Reclusiveness protects you From nostalgia, And you can be as nostalgic In
A journey undertaken on destination suspect No direction to follow unsure what to expect Trudge seems endless unclear full of doubts Adding to quandaries of dreaded kind bouts All but me as company be done on one’s own None pointed
I’m seeking my immortal foe He must mosh hard and enjoy Edgar Allen Poe You should have a secret identity that nobody can know … Be a secret sexy super-villain, be my, John Doe! I’m now hiring, inquire within! Don’t
Remembrances… A wild laugh, needling rain, choked breath, flashes of pain. Memories slumber, dreams drain! A past I hold, tied to my back. A heavy bulging, under the skin, sack I walk past the stories, of flowers and song A
They called me a king, back when I was still nothing. I knew they saw something, but I just couldn’t bear knowing… that I would never be a delicate instrument. Such as words said, uttered, written down on a piece,
Her voice is an awkward drawl among the manifold chatter, the pitch a bit too high to even assimilate in the uniform blather. Her skin is one too many shades darker than the general throng- a constant and incessant reminder
I awake to the gloom of a cloud covered sky, There’s a dampness that floats with the air. A stillness and peace has enveloped my world, And I don’t see a soul anywhere. You can already smell the rain on
Lonely night Engulf me In your Ocean coloured Darkness Hungry night Swallow me Whole! Take me To your Bloody entrails Ugly night Hold me Close To your scars Lend me An eardrum Pearly night Let me Hold a mirror To
how to clear a cluttered mind it’s a mystery to me deep breath in relax unwind time to let it be pointless thoughts to be diffused inhabit precious space weary spirit battered, bruised forever on the chase a cluster of hows
Mind cant mind its business It keep on dancing to its tunes It gets agitated at the slightest provocation It gets disturbed on losing money it gets agitated on not making money It weeps when others make money it feels
It was not a demigod, elephantiasis of a beast, snakes sitting on head. A catastrophic tree view.I was proud of being alive during carpet-bombing. A catnip was needed to clear the vision. The town was moving out shedding its landmarks.
Yonder the horizon A red dawn rises Into the gorges’ deep Over peaks of old Into my hearty throbbing Waking love into a wingless flight To seek again for my heart’s Ever longing shine A blaze of yellow light alight
Sciences has opened our eyes on many fronts. We have learned much, but there is infinite knowledge to go. The Universe is larger than humans can possibly know. Our Universe as large as it is, is dwarfed in the Multiverse.
You have to roll a six, With four dices on the board. The odds are not in your favor, Playing a big game of chance. Critics are saying it’s impossible, But you still play in the tournament. Self-discipline increases the
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,
Epochs// (1) Sometimes, time does interchange. But my grandma, who’d moved from her poor house to live inside my skull, is still throwing seven stones at the cellular phone, wakes me up each time a light emerges from the end
It was dusk, twilight sky, gushing waves, I sat on the shore,gazing at the horizon. The birds busily flapped their wings back home, while there I sat, and thought about the vagaries of life. The noise of the sea waves,
When things go wrong as they sometimes will, When the road you’re galumphed seems all uphill. When the funds are low and the debts are high, And you want to smile, but you have to sigh. Remember a beggar and
Flipping pages inhaling words Like open arms and fluttering birds. A clay pot, a blue sky. Paddy fields passing by. Just touch each word, it comes to life With laughter, anger, pleasure and strife I travel with people living in
The glint of steel, so sharp and smooth, beneath my fragile fingers. Delicate inlaid patterns reflect an afterimage that lingers. As a child I’d hide beneath cotton sheets feigning death, that I could deceive. Then risking a peep from beneath
My eyes itch and burn, Rubbing them doesn’t help, Drops by the bottle, Relief however brief held. Vision isn’t what it once was, Bloodshot red pupils dilated, Restless they wander, Rolling around irritated. Fixed on images throughout the room, Narrow
There are some things I have come to believe. Believe me when I say, I am not deceived. Sometimes the good die young, and never receive. Unfairness exists, and persists, though ill conceived. Sometimes everybody gets pushed around, or cheated.
Love is easily excited. It plays your heart like an instrument, the beat hard and fast like a Spanish guitar. Love is colorful. It shows, everywhere. Between two, and inside one. But love is impatient. It doesn’t realize That it