Dismayed poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of dismayed poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on dismayed are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Tied at the four corners, Knotted so tight, Unable to disentangle, Nauseated they feel, The Four feathers. Flowing tresses in the wind, Blowing in the wondrous spring, Balancing toes with the sing, Spreading arms to enfold, The moments to devour;
From the land of bestrode came Ambrose the toad, With boring tales of a bureaucratic charade. Why would this old fart, with always the same start, Repeat old stories about the British Brigade? He’d tell you everything he could, Though
Oh my kite, my beloved Kite, Soar up in the day and night, reaching the boundless height, let us merge with horizon & light! Oh my kite, my beloved Kite, swing and sway amongst the sun, chase the clouds and
A life, lives, many lives – millions struggle. Liars to the left and right of them, in front of them and in back of them, beneath and on top. Everyone dismayed; like those before them none can make a reply.
A family gathering, a party so bright with revelers dancing well into the night. Everyone filled with joyful mirth, role models all; the salt of the earth. Lost in their laughter with a roof to raise, failing to see his
Over the lake moon was hounded out from the dark clouds into the defying blues. The thick orbit hauled up the debris of falling stars. I was watching the crowd of centuries piling up in history. Global heat was settling
Is it all just a big mistake The Earth got bored and had a big earthquake Did the universe decide instead of expanding lets just create The postman arrives at ten past eleven and he’s five minutes late I sit
What was that dream A colour so strange Never felt before Which neither keeps me awake Nor let me sleep Compelling me out of myself Each moment And I stand perplexed With a fractioned heart Restless, Entrapped, Behind those walls
(1) When I used to be a coal-black ink over a snowy paper, she said: “your letters are locks, your words puzzles”. When I spoke with the remains of my string, she said: “your letters are plough blades wounding the
Last night the harbourer tracked the stag to his resting place, and at sunrise made a close inspection of the perimeter of the wood, to ensure he had not escaped. When the Master heard this, and was satisfied, he ordered
To find a safe god he traveled inside the books to develop the tradecraft of winning the world. Fog squinted from the sky and elite sun waited in the lobby. Steel-pellets, flesh and body parts will follow, to nip the
A friend evolves from the strangest of life’s corners, But settles in your heart and does you the greatest honor. Your friend lifts you up whenever you are down, With just the strongest of shoulders you will ever find in
A weeping willow was telling a trove of memories, for an ancient provenance where the lake sleeps. Why the sheen of water brings out ephemerality of ‘if’. You want to take a holy dip, never to come up again in
(1) It was a mix of demons. Honour killing to save the damaged inside. You were found in lotus position, hands tied, buried in a hole. (2) The twin plants: god and goddess of procreativity were shedding trumpet-shaped pink flowers.
Orange flower of may Bright burning fire display Big bunches in bouquets form Decorating the Earth they fall upon Rain and sunshine The season brings Pretty green beans Like rattles dangling Standing beauty beside the sidewalk Like fire engines its
the smile returned first that shy hopeful grimace couched in lips lately pinked as if from stolen candy there was rain that night fine and soaking and the leaves were glad of it all that street dust sliding into the
Devil’s blunt fingers icy slick palm every morning in my stomach waking to a cold tide no cell, no sentence just another day’s time to do head down avoid the warders visiting day comes familiar faces look ugly in a
I know I bring you satisfaction. Mad but you’re masking. Packed? I’m unpacking. You want to leave. Best believe it won’t happen. Hold on Ma. Let’s breathe and work backwards. What is the battle worth? Your tears coming after words.
The pomegranate burst apart in a shower of purple-red spray and blunt red teeth disproving the chic appeal of white upholstery we cleaned the crime scene long hours on our knees soaking cloths with tart white vinegar and dabbing away
Little one, resting cozily in my care, Sleep and dream. Little one, nestled in my arms, Forget about the struggles of today. You are in my safekeeping; Nothing will ever harm you. You have been placed in my guidance, And
Souls leave no shadows And no more shades either For, they remain in those Moth eaten sepias as relics of Those we have loved once And killed many times over Souls leave holes only Wholesome holes; say some in mock
Her arm was left out the window all night clamped at the pit which throbbed her heart hammering to do its job straining for the tiny capillaries going blue about the nail beds her arm flapped on the growing wind
High in the Great Canadian Rockies; on the shoreline of a rippling mountain stream, dancing shadows are reflected in the eyes of a massive, supreme bull elk. A gentle breeze is gracefully guiding the leaves of glorious fall tapestry, jagged
But there is an anti-particle to wvery particle in this universe” The physics teacher quoted in class twelfth “Ally with real life” he said, And a life lesson was learnt that heyday. “to every single ‘event’ there is an ‘anti
It is not every tear that glitters, Neither is every curse tied to positive tides, But it is only the positive tides that glitter. It is not every damnation that flees, It is not every succumbing dream that prevails, Neither,
Family. That’s what we’ve grown to be. From once not knowing each other’s names, To all being able to take the blame. The past 3 years, We’ve grown to become who we are, From the people that surround us. Our
When I flew into a storm my words collided with thunder and stars fell on ashes of dead. I wanted to scream. Seeking a freeze on past.Future was stretching its arms. A calling.Erratic explosions? The ruins were becoming worthy of
The bygone time is a handwritten book Every step left behind has its story Sorry there’s no time for us to read in detail for we need to continue the journey in a hurry Sorrow often overwhelms me when nights