Destitute poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of destitute poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on destitute are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Was it really so necessary, For you both to get married; Was it so obligatory, For you to divorce and separate; Was it damn compulsory, For you to get me born; Was it really really required, For you to leave
When I was borne my mother passed away and one day father also left the hut leaving me alone and my destiny was now homeless, helpless and orphan vagabond I was now roaming around the road and streets in search
It’s said search for happiness Is the main reason for unhappiness All our life we search for happiness, We wait for some big happiness to come our way In the run, in the rush to get some big happiness We
Treating wife as a lover makes life so romantic Treating children like friends brings parents so close Worshipping parents like God makes life so sacred Treating friends as siblings make the relationship so special Taking care of the sick and
I know not what Happiness is I suppose it must be when I was an infant sucking mother’s breast milk in hunger I don’t know what happiness is all about may be what I felt when I became topper in
With endless poverty gleaming in their eyes, Dreams, desires and will to live; Everything has faded to get fled, In a beggar; a living dead, A zombie on the streets. With an affirmative urge in hesitation, Cohesively willing to die
Getting into the room of a poet is like entering the cell of a prison unknowingly the prisoner… but you must keep quiet… because, such is the freedom of being kept behind bars, myriads of butterflies of freedom sleep there
Speak! My love to tell of how, this arc of circled light Might break upon darkness to dawn with unrequited might. Despair! Rides upon the night, unseen, unfelt, rich with life Through unwanted correspondence pain cuts with a knife To
Penniless, I get up in the morning having eight hours of sound sleep feeling fresh and happy. don’t you feel I am rich in spite of being Poor ? Milliner, I get disturbed sleep the whole night and get up
He walks down cobbles and blows bubbles for a pilgrimage of constant troubles, closing doors to tax men, running for milk floats, shunning almighty bible bashers, paints the flags of east London fascists Charlie chicken soup with a head like
Dreadful nights are long over, Nature has turned a lot sober, After the devastating flood, That claimed a lot of blood.. With us helping each other, No one now has to bother, About catastrophes in future, As we will again
“Under the spreading chestnut tree, I sold you and you sold me” – George Orwell There was a time when we were young, A time when we were young and free, When the sunshine and the gleaming dawn Brought us dreams
There is a sense of forever that’s hidden in your eyes. A sense that no matter how much time will pass. A promise that no matter how random the thought. That somehow, you will always be there. That same funny
When I was a little boy, I used to run up to the end of the earthen road and run back homeward; in my hand an open-lipped astonished fig berry, a few apricot stones and some body-scars. At those days,
The wind blows, but I feel not the breeze The moon and stars on parade above Have lost their glow and magic The campfire crackles with its wavering flames But I feel not its warmth Friends singing, a blur of
Sad songs on a loop, Staring out the window – the rain falls – no stars in the sky tonight. She drops the fake smile, and loses the brave front Tears fall, fall continuously from her eyes. Each one representing
The more times passes The more things remain unchanged The worse the hurt festers More miserable the loneliness I stand alone A bare tree in a ravaged desert plain Fleeting images of rain raising hope But in the end only
The tears shed at night when no-one sees us, the sweat and blood in the days nobody hears us. The mask we wear to hide it all, the truths we find once it falls. The nightmares that overbearingly haunt us,
Through tears and fights, through smiles, I knew everything Would be alright. Through love and hate, through betrayal and debate, For you I would always have faith. We are friends I got your back you got mine, I’ll help you
The air was thin, while the room was hot, My eyes scanning, spotting the warm glow of a dress, She whizzed and whirled, her youthful gait attendant to my plot, Two legs in unison, eyes like gilded jewels, breasts like
Daily I see a different me, each morning I notice- an iota of sheen missing, a part of me has withered, chipping regularly from somewhere or the other, a delta difference between me and the me from yesterday, Am I
Destiny —– Is it really the unseen something Determined by omnipotent fate As it is ofttimes defined ? Or just a quasi dream Propelled by intense desire That doesn’t let you sleep Even when you are really tired It’s truely
Swooping gradients, hairpin bends The sun in gold softly descends Heavens painted in crimson hues Evening birds darting through Cypresses swing in welcome mists, Gentle breezes sigh and hiss I cast my eyes on beauteous scene With pleasant vales, villages
Did you taste the ejecta after a sacred ritual of exploding a makeshift bomb in a crowded market? I am worried. I am becoming death, curling backward. The wood spirits have started a fire dance. The healing, yes, it comes
It was my ambition to be a poet My conscious mind demanded of me To write more and more But the unconscious mind warned Not to listen to the conscious mind The conflict between them I kept aside To me,
‘O my Lord! Where are you? On an old portrait my eyes are glued. My happy days running far and far, Now the times I’m confronting are hard. From so many years, my dreams stood And I have traveled as
If I forget spring, bruise my face with grass to meld with soil in prescience of later ritual. If I forget summer, drip on my tongue the blood of fresh berries, and the insolent taste of mint. If I forget
I woke up from a nap to find no wife just a yellow-legged spider above her pillow pulling hanks of web from its shiny black abdomen silent in dim light half turning from industrious momentum and I imagined the screeching
I can see the love of the mother, Which the man who leaves his mom In orphanage cannot see. I can see the future in the eyes of the young, Which no politician can see. It is not needed for
Silhouettes more real than bodies degenerating into the dungeons of secrecy talking with mustaches seeing with fingers ignorant of colors refugees in their own land bereft of fun stars peep out during the day time to see the tangled twigs
What they told us about Capitalism: We were told capitalism creates wealth, we were told capitalism brings the best in man, and with it, individual’s potentials are certainly attainable; we were told individual dreams and aspirations easily come to fruition
Two souls come near Without feeling any fear Think about no other Including father and mother Sister and brother May often offer Little help In getting letters Replies are sent later Love game is in swing But it is in
Everything we do has poetry embedded within it Like a stone yet unturned A picture of the sun that brightly burned The faces of young children as they strive to have learned Describe an emotion that you feel and have
Trust, when you can Have Faith, when you realize. Not the two sides of the same coin Trust and Faith are mistakenly combined Cornering a space in every Human Two feelings are never found together. Trust is the feeling, Of
Dreams: dreams Very dangerous dreams die, The absence of a target, the obsession to be buried in a pile of sand, Wake up in the morning to carry around all day life, Curse lives on in the night and go
Sailing through the river, A long line of boats I passed, With gloomy sulky faces aboard; None to give a smile. Fishes jumped up in their faces, No one bothers; Birds flew in numbers, No one looks up. Where they
The sound of guns may scare the birds on the trees, but rob not their songs. Autumn withers the leaves, but the flowers forget not spring— the time they should throng. Soldiers are killed here by the strangers of the
The grass is a little greener and diamonds are made not of coal but a fabric the earth mother sews up, as the stars burn into a little pinch of ash that rains upon the thirsty One * * *
Strangers meet, merge their lives Shadows fade… Time revives the highs of life Dreams renew, nightmares die Two hearts may find that life provides… A refuge from their strife Old wounds heal, when life reveals What kindred spirits share Tears
A distraught moon takes a misstep and goes behind the hill to take a holy bath. Disconnects with a trespasser and sends to night, a bouquet of stars with muffled prayers. Shades of lies haunt, in flames of faith. A
