Dignity poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of dignity poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on dignity are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
There was existence, without space. I was afraid of my unborn child. Inheriting the stammer of history I could not think of any brand abuse. On the contrary, fumes throw you off the road. Full moon rising on the cleft.
When humanity first became aware, the world was a scary dangerous place. Everything was a mystery, nothing but survival at stake. We created gods to help us make sense. Gods became the catchall to explain the unknown. Gods became religions
Each written word reveals many things. What does a signature tell you? Is it sound, plain and mature? Is it recognized as only yours? Its duty is to represent you. Sign it plain, clear, and true. Put something there that
(1) Over those houses, melts a cloud. Liquid lead leaks from the ceiling of our ancient skies. Foggy damns still come out of the land’s bottom, since a sword had ripped off Earth, which had been then bandaged by an
Winter has the taste of melancholy; my window puts on a cloak of glass, wraps its face with a shawl of lead and drops cold tears, each time universe shrinks. (2) Migrant birds have a travelling homeland in sky and
When I walk out in broad daylight, I am immediately handed with “Stand up and fight” brochures, persuaded to download the Vithyou app, begged to join self defense classes to combat the raging thirst, of uninhibited audacious beasts. I am
“A young, bubbly lass once I saw, Tall, dusky and a charming smile she wore. Like all little girls, she waited in anticipation, Of a handsome young man, Who’d love her like no one. Her little follies he would overlook,
I go to work to keep sane, The youth loathe me in my face. Aloof, I display a character of experience, Of Poise, of dignity and inflicted disgrace! My mirror welcomes me home silently, I caress my dry lips with
I have Killed and pillaged Plundered and pilloried Raped and destroyed Beauty and innocence In its purest form Nature… Her plaintive cries When she trembled And quaked And melted, Her pleas Have I ignored And now I must pay. Through
One fine evening as we sat around, our spirits gay, She came towards us, palms bowl-shaped, eyes accustomed to implore, Though filled with anguish, yet determined, they seemed to say, “A tiny morsel, a little coin, nothing more!” Though the
Rosy cheeks, with a dimple in it Tiny lips, pink in colour Graceful body, slender and thin Are they the factors that make you a beauty? My Fair Lady..? A handsome man, with the strength of a bull Always behind
lucky are those women, who are married to someone they love. lucky are those women, who are free to be themselves lucky are those women, who are told YOU ARE SPECIAL lucky are those women, who are told YOU ARE
Through the veil of love and care Innocence was taken to task Pleas fell on deaf ears Vampire thrived on tears An intentional infliction of pain Tears began pouring like rain With slander, abuses and rage The naive was kept
Love, beautiful and vibrant as we know, Each of us experiences this as we grow, The emotions they say one can’t hide, But does love also have a darker side? It makes us laugh, it takes us high, But does
She Keeps a Love to Nurture her Immature And a Vigor to Sacrifice the Fruits of Nature Her Dreams are Curtained Behind the Window Panes And Chained into Darkness with Teary Stains Her Audacity of Giving Birth to our Family
I wasn’t me anymore, Why I wonder? When I woke up from my Deepest slumber. What changed me? Or induced me To change, I did ponder. I looked around I looked at me In the mirror, my salient Feature staring
Slowly, slowly as the storm brews Dark Images, thoughts and words of abuse Tunnelling, focusing, blurred then black Is that yet another knife in my back? Raging inside yet aware, not awake Cornered and shaken, I will not let them
Do you deem it courage? Or is it a kind of outrage Sparking off the blood-hued flares Igniting all particles of wrath present in the air Curses etched on the strips of little paper Nailed into the cloth flesh of
I too wanna live… I’m tired of eyes that look but don’t see They pierce remembering the undressed me Numerous stares taunt my erased purity But they don’t see the soul of me. A painful experience I’ve locked up inside
I didn’t really notice her, to start with, A girl with too shaped hair and clothes beyond her years It wasn’t right, clearly not right Medieval in some respects An heir and a spare her task But a fairy-tale danced
Spitting the blood, he said, every winter for few days – he would feel outcast and there was pain in the idea of pain, but he wanted to live without a painkiller. Sometimes he will singe his hands on a
Monitoring for movement, scanning expectantly for signs. Electric eyes, barely blinking. Knowing the prey and her hiding places. Prowling the night, thoughts blacker than the surrounding darkness. Staccato stalking, sleek and streamlined, she smells the air. Nervous nose, almost aquiver.
He made me move on the rough edges to the abyss of ‘ I ’, persuasive, but strong for a thrilled journey, on the snow-clad relationship between disquieting follicles of wants. Completely alert, still drowning in fear of abstract river,
Days and months make my years But your presence alone serves a thought. We might leave sweet potatoes and cassava to rot But your presence alone reminds me your patience. Your dignity is like a great river that flow heavens’
Fuss and confusion; At the nearby café, a woman is hanged on her high velvet hat, concealing a left crossed-eye behind a piece of texture pretending transparency. A director with two extra-ordinary long sideburns points at an old man, who
If I could just describe the pain, The pain, of losing you! The pain, of missing those Passionate kisses, stolen at moments. The pain, of looking down onto my chest And not finding your head resting on it. The pain,
Why must you lure me so? You bewitching jewel, your radiant skin is only matched by the glint in your eyes. Your hair cascades down your shoulders with More conviction than the most splendid waterfall, But after all this, do
For death of conflicts, and conflicts of death, the coming of cessation, I was waiting. Tomorrow must come before eternity, that inness, I will come to terms with one day. The absoluteness of certainties creates a danger of half-truths. An
Life, at times, is full of irony, People talk roses but their deeds reap weeds.. Oh yeah! On one hand they pretend to be mascot of peace, On the other hand they don’t hesitate to suffocate anyone else’s speech. On
Brain Born Perverts : The denial of earthly existence ! Does The Existence sustain? Beguile compels to distort , And infuses the fickle fake plots . The dignity of faith and the formidable stature Are plundered by time winged lockouts.
All hail to a noble Saviour of low birth who lies in a cradle surrounded by beasts. The chants of joy and gladness from all the earth mark his lowly birth with wonderful feasts. All hail to our Lord whose
climbing on the umblical hill ahead of the contours, a denier alters the chemistry of hate in negative space; fauna of the earth springs black stones, man made, on the glistening sex of lotuses, a forgetfulness ensures the conceptual withdrawl