Development poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of development poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on development are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
I am a beautiful man though once I was an ugly boy worms split at the advance of my sneakers they knew what was coming I never shared chocolate turned sour to spite me this is no caterpillar and cocoon
Earth is becoming something different, something more. For millions of years proto-humans strode its bounties until Homo sapiens arrived. Once here, humans took millennia incrementally building improving its lot in life. Step by step, developing new ways of improving, one
Welcome, welcome White dove The hatred wall That estranged cousins Have begun to fall When love Incarnated in white dove Started to fly high Over Ethiopian- Eritrean sky. Welcome, welcome White dove You are an antidote Border dispute to solve.
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
Far away from mankind and society, far I wandered. Through bleak plains and screeching drums, Dragging along my body, weary from the residues of development, My eyes are sore from enduring all this mortal architecture that’s slowly diminishing in my rear
Duis went outside and changed. And then. Who can still sit funny. However, he wishes to the hotel, the laugh of the gate of life, words of condolence, novels. I do not have football. There is no rent-a-car like a
Let Freedom Ring from Extremity to Extremity. Freedom! Freedom! Freedom! The only word in the dictionary of liberty, water that nourishes the tree of liberty, Chlorophyll in every green plant, the photosynthesis of life. Freedom millions had sought and died
(1) At ‘Bab Al-nairab gate’,(1)on a pile of wet smoke, I meet a sackcloth, a muddy bear fur and two women; one holds by her amputated palm the tail of ‘Sayf Aldawla’s(2) robe, the other sings a rocky song. The
Though by birth born in a caste predominantly of business class where Goddess Lakshmi loves to reside, He grew up in the company of sacred caste predominantly of learned class where Goddess Saraswathi would settle Right from his tender age
The Saga Of Romance is a collection of romantic poems, mostly on metaphysical attachment, that may be helpful for younger generation in developing a better and healthy world. The poet’s style of writing comprises of forms like free verse, haiku, senryu, sonnet,
“HASAN MUSTAFA” my Sweet Valentine You always glitter you always shine Allah may shower bounties on you Always adopt the way that is true you abstain from that what is bad That is natural in you to never be sad
On my way to work, Whenever I pass through The Holy Trinity church, After a brief prayer, The tombstone of a martyr My eyes never fail to search As his eulogies sensitive cords Are sure to touch! I admire The
My fellow Americans, The hour is dark. Hence I stand before you With a heavy heart. Something is coming, Something man has never seen – An attack lacking precedent Within the pages of history. As you all well know, We
For ages Saddled with Domestic chores Confined indoors With a traditional muzzle Devoid of a voice With fellow housewives We were sweltering Under the class And gender yoke Seen weak though We were strong as a rock. Things taking A
Forged while in utero (the crucible concocting conception), the fluke of biology begat me – a happy go lucky boy, whose vulnerable uber travails susceptibly sprung sly as Tennessee Williams hip cat on a hot tin roof, where the faux
You’ll often see them running and chasing across the plains, a rabbit skipping and laughing at an eagle, in great pains. But why’s the eagle running, surely he can fly? Sadly he’s afraid of heights and frightened he may die.
“You are wrong, I am right Is this what’s its all about? Where is the love, the care? and all the lovely emotions that were there Is this all that is left in us, Questions, arguments and fights?” There I
We walked, twinkle-toed, through the night’s hush A ‘Sherlock Holmes’ deerstalker capping my skull And the red Che-star on your beret (left of centre); Hand in hand Finger looped to finger Palms sweating, Lips twinging from a freshly chiselled kiss
A thought so perturbing that questions our state of being what is the purpose of this life and living? too short a time and the doubts unending this countdown in sync with our birth sooner demystified the better it is
*Whoosh* Thoughts embedded into my psyche unravel, As I steadily make my way out past the unabating white water. The pure, crisp, salty air fills my nose, lungs, and heart. *Whoosh* I cast an earnest gaze onto the horizon, Awaiting
Walking there on those roads, you were coming with someone else… Its funny how life unfolds, even the best of the efforts fail…! How quickly you moved on, while I still am where I was before… All by myself, alone,
The dangerous chainsaw of destruction, the damp and musty cemetery of cruelty, the dreaded dead drug of desperation, the dusty dirty crossroads of determination, the hollow eyeball socket of fear, the mysterious lake mist of hatred, the mindless needle of
sailing along these cumbersome waves with scorching rays upon our heads paddling against the winds of time so i will sing as bell the chime riding towards our yon of passion poesy to the cliffs and peaks of infinite glory
Far before the time we’re in, a tribe had lost their Khoisan king, who led his tribe, and led him well, compassionate king with love for all, for he made sure they’re nicely fed. For this king was a thoroughbred,
O comforting tree! Neither I need your fruits Nor your blossoms, Want only a bit of your shade Tired I am To take rest under your shade, Then will leave Travel I have to I will keep travelling. O lovely
A preacher was shedding dirty tears for burning hills. Pinned up on tongue was a slogan. Death for all sunflowers. Draped in blood who was trespassing the sickle moon? I cannot raise the mist where you stand naked in sunlight.
Clouds strayed in the sky Like lambs in the pasture; Winds roared at the high Like lions in the leisure; Thunders struck on the roof Like shoots of the troop; Fears brood in the heart Like snakes creep in dark;
You ask about these tears These tears I cry…. Rolling down my face With every heave and sigh For a dying world Drowning in misery And hate ……These tears I cry For the lonely, The dying and The socially displaced
Those barbarous men took all my felicity and killed me with their adze. Each piece of my fragmented heart endured a lot of angst. By defiling a dauntless belle they exalted their brutality. The ferocious act of theirs, brought me
Clips, Clamps, Berets, and Bows. School, church, playdates, she goes. But that’s just the beginning of her poor hairs woes. Down again? Up again. Knots again? Brush again. Food again? Comb again. Gum again? Glue again? Brush, and comb again.
Rain on my pane, Making a mirage of raindrops, You may drizzle, Come as a downpour, Or take me into a tempest. Touch me when lonely, Weave into my heart, Dripping with comfort, Soaking the soul, In your silent ways.