Disown poems bring the best collection of short and long disown poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great disown rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these disown poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on disown are here for you.
A Newly born infant was ruthlessly abandoned on the street to face the vagaries of nature and fend for itself by its ruthless parents A good Samaritan took sympathy on the abandoned toddler and adopted the child and nourished the
Her severed head she carries, from the Sant’ Angelo Bridge, surrounded features bring her near, so small in comparison, drawn to the Tempietto, she’s associated with this reminder overheard, from my conversation with Paul from the ceiling, conveyance from scripture,
He did not want anything after the sex and death of a protagonist. Rebuffed and sliced through the body, the onus was left on toxic mix. He died in deprivation, in intensity of hunger and fluidity of thirst. The quartet
With the essence of elegance, And with the timelessness of beautified brilliance, My mind knows there’s not a word in existence, That could ever explain or express, What my eyes see in this moment that’s left my world in a
Throughout the night, We were running here and there in the Hospital, We both were tense and anxious Because we were waiting for a new arrival The person who was inside Was someone’s daughter and someone’s wife The seconds, minutes
Fathers are trees whose roots are so deep and strong that we cling to them for ever Eventually we get lost into them that gives a different pleasure Now when my father has gone far away from me desire of
I knew a girl with eyes always set on the next mile ahead and a heart longing for oceans she had never seen there was sand in her half brushed hair she always had happiness flooding from her pores just
When I was a young man I chased them by the score. They were fast, young and lean. Conquest was my aim, seduction was the game. Procreation, I was playing with biology’s rules. I cared very little about much more.
I gazed upon the northern star, Fixed with no intention of moving. I then turned and fixed my eyes, Upon the ice-set stone face, Which rather glowed with wisdom instead of wickedness. “Your time has come”, his voice deep and
Walking in the forest looking at all the greens In my mind’s eye something now that simply gleans All the colours have light upon Some are shadows some are sun filled and brightly shone I see why they change so
Bent tree, drooping branches, wilting leafs aged from time Knurled fingered, hands wrinkled much like mine. Skin browned and aged spots, Face cracked and crevassed, Sagging skin from sun and time. We are old and that is fine, we’ve aged
Her journey took her to a place Where smiles did sit on every face Where long ago the Indus came And so gave India her name Softly shifting desert sands And mountains that stood high on land The setting sun
Glistening sacred fire brightens every life casting off ignorance renews pure white minds in unison to design eternal Calm to pacify the heart rending misery crumbling innocence. Fire of wisdom baffles the literates to fathom the depth of intelligence That
for beheading the raceme three bullets went into the bubbling chest the assassins had come when she was alone with scars on wings she sailed on voices of silence the melody had kissed the moon in night without veil it
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY Intelligent man says, I feel it is a special day It is not my birthday It is mother’s day When our daughter came to bring us happiness, I felt it, A special day Children truly excited to
Betrayals from long-ago, Resurfaced when I saw you. Though time had past, The wounds still bleed. As if the damage, Was done yesterday! No apologies ever flowed, From your evil lips. Sympathy was never implied, All I could see was
A Colored Moon// By: Fareed Ghanem (1) A moon is red in three moods: When the ladies of high society kiss windows and walk out without lipstick, or; When white color is called red, or; When roses bloom in your
The rope around my throat is black That much I know I’m dead because of his heartless attacks The person everyone knows The reflection in the mirror isn’t my own It’s a ghost, a phantom, sitting on his throne His
I’m up shit creek, this time, Granddad. My madness Isn’t paying off like it did, When I made her happy and Delirious, in love. I look Up to the clouds, hoping that You are, at least, there to Listen. I
So you thought you were the stuff, rough, tuff, couldn’t get enough. Wheeling, dealing, even stealing, trying to get rid of that low feeling. Wanting to be rich but there’s a hitch, it’s a straight bitch, you’ve run into a
She sits there looking so cold and alone But somewhere under there, There beats a heart Beneath all the black and chrome The smooth lines that glimmer Soft but sharp in the night Are begging you to play the game
In his short spaceless life Discordant happiness plays foul, A missed chance heavy price demands. He sought another that never was for him As he feared his utter laziness And never spelt her adored name Before eastern Sun broke forth…..
Like an alligator tending her eggs on tongue, death moves the life on strength of charisma, over reaches for requiem and then distributes the raw moments in subterfuge, we play the game to cheat each other without shame. A red