Descriptive poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of descriptive poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on descriptive are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
I walked beside her on the breezy beach, the waves came in a perfect rythm and steadily subsided below our feet. Her black curls fluttered in the serene winds, probing her to tuck them behind her modest ears. She held
This day is here again, Its the same one as before… Yet completely different in itself, By just a few contradicting things… Feelings had bloomed, After a long unending winter.. I yearned for a companion, And found you along the
Something was not polite in signs. The smell of incarcerated bed of gods was floating down. A subdued shadow of black moon was climbing on the window. And each house had offered a son, to rage a war of retribution.
Hands trembling as I write this poem On cold chilly winter morning Dead silence ring in my ear Dim light by the fireplace, Knotted together in this tiny house That we call our own Where love is shown, and hate
Life is a series of relationships, Which come & go as time drips. A consolidated sequence of life is lew, But the list of happy moments are few. Living life with that only one, And not an analogy of some.
Walking in mental fog, you become a swaying tree. In mistiness one becomes lonely like a blackbird. Hollyhocks would wait, till the sun comes out. December rain brings the gift― of sleet on lips. ————————————– Walking in mental fog, you
Rub cheese on your knees, To cure a runny nose. Sliced onions on your bunions, To ease your itchy toes. A banana in your ear, Will dry those dreadful tears. A carrot up your nose, Will keep your vision clear.
When you’re there, It can be unmistakable. Like a mask, In a passing fable. You pretend to be tough, Cracking a smile fulfilling enough. Why you resist, Is from past unshakables, Hovering over intention, Permanent and unbreakable. Just then it
Like one day’s butterflies We take flight from our shell And wandering nowhere Front of a window finally we dwell, Which opening a little lets us see Brief passion that doesn’t feed Like one day’s butterflies We grovel for years
You get on the freeway and floor it all those maplines and dots coming briefly to life like water drops in a hot frying pan you stop when you get hungry you fight through the tired trying to save money
Mellow wintry wind starts to blow. From the corner of the sky there is a pinkish glow. A fluttering and dancing rose smiles at the sky. In such ways Lord Jesus opens His eyes. Pink rays of happiness wrap old
I did not will them dreams of crystals a stupid calendar of flight from insomniac past. Do not want to return to future, hub of my clouds. History had been writhing and screaming. Present cannot redeem my woes. I ask
When Mum first presented you I thought you were a trick. Your attempts to buy me off with a Metallica C.D. demonstrated your pettiness. I didn’t say anything at the time ‘cos I didn’t want to hurt her feelings in
In the rural South, sometimes life was cruel Robbery from the poor was legal, via dirt cheap labor In all practicality, one could say that we were going backwards In the North, city life was fearful and dangerous I was
Cannot stare coming on terror radar. Every night there was Celsius rise in deadpeace. The climate debt of a dark cloud was changing. What is going to happen, tell me blindfolded. We have a never or nothing attitude. The roads
Ready, set, go! When I am down and gloomy, When my head feels not-so-roomy, I set my internal clocks And fade out conception blocks. A small lantern can light up the night, And a different point of view can make
Jesus Christ spoke from the holy book, That suffering is at an end, If that’s all it truly took, Then lonely Eveline wouldn’t have to pretend, The rain falls while she does mourn, Days pass, unnoticed by her grief, As
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
The echoes of those ancient poetries Red ink dripping from blank dreams Drooping pens and tightened grips Gloomy blue tunes, fatuous time slips These are few of my forgotten things Futuristic pragmatic event flows Far sighted chapter with new goals
I have a lush green garden full of Charming snakes, Their frightful sight can give heart attacks. Though in appearance attractive and sleek, Their dominance can make your life very bleak. My garden attracts them to fulfil their greed, They
An outcast, stripped and beaten up, the sickle moon smears the clouds with blood. I hate to wait for – the sun to undo this mess, an ethnic mutilation will bring a chaos. Nursing the peripheries, tribes were in pursuit
The sky is aglow with last rays On altitudes twilight lingers late And saffron clouds hang like lanterns In the vast dusky firmament So deep and gloomy are my thoughts But not in the net of melancholy caught I might
That’s the coldest yet, the words on my father’s lips, each night from October to spring, as he stood at the back door shaking the East Belfast rain off his coat, and stamping the mud off his Shipyard boots, before
Shattered to pieces I walked past thousands of many, But she stood besides me whether my life was dark or sunny. I didn’t realise that she was the only one who held my hand, When the whole world called me
The night that breeds dark clouds of rankling dolour Within azure sky of my mind’s great earth, Delusive affection of thine enlivened fervour, Of joy of life and lustre triggers dearth. Thou rememb’rest those fragrant ways trodden, Back i’th’ longest
Before the lights go out And the world stops hearing music One last song, Let’s sing the blues away…. Before the day dims out And people stop believing in magic, One last picture, Let’s paint the pain away….. Before the