Ecstatic poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of ecstatic poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on ecstatic are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
I wanted to write something But my brain refused to spare anything I got agitated and start searching some others’ brain for lending I did get a brain dead man who was sleeping but found him to be still breathing
Making promises is his habit Violating is his nature Traits make one like him Why then the feelings capture. Recoiling of impatient intestines Swings of heart, jumps of spirits Chest throbbing with impatience Is the specific poser that hurts? For
Two flailing oiled chotis slap me out of stupor. The Goddess arches out hinged at the pole, her saucer hands clasped below mine. A hooting call answered with crystal stare from wide apart eyes that grazes my shoulder, wounding me.
The boomerang bird is back with us again, the tireless sickle, slashing swathes of wind inflicting wounds with wicked scything wings, shrieking summer’s swift ecstatic pain. It flings itself at frightened insects, flies on whittled blades, deadly smooth and fast,
Two hearts met first time in the college To begin an unhackneyed relationship Together they had a cup of coffee Together they studied in library The friendship grew into love one day Together made many promises to keep And vowed
t Happiness descends on me Seeing floating clouds in the sky Flying birds fascinate me Seems with them as if I fly. Flapping wings of butterfly Are soporifically gratifying Seems with them As if I am merrily gliding. Bubble-bees humming
Sat outside beneath a starry sky, with a favourite glass of wine With the silver glow of moonlight, oblivious of time Your hand is held in mine, the special intimacy of touch Just sharing conversation, times like this I love
Vane glorious and absolutistic, though I defiantly, cavalierly, and blithely attest Yukon bet your (laugh-in) sweet bippy mine acidic breast houses anarchic, anti-poetic ballistic, barbaric, and bubonic cannibalistic demons within thy safely guarded Pandora chest atomic cesium clock timed to
The innocent and lovely creatures are crying, crying bitterly every moment, For their beauty is their curse; One can not listen to the cry, As it is disgracefully buried by the devils in the inaccessible depth of the secret world,
On this so cold night Laying alone I ponder How warm the bed would have felt With you having in here. Your legs wrapped around mine Spooning, curves settled so perfect That’s why it’s said “made magically for each other”.
True and sacred relations are made for each other Two hearts met first time in the college To begin an unhackneyed relationship Together they had cup of coffee Together they studied in library The friendship grew into love one day
At the end of the elated visit Around the mind moving marble mausoleum -Taj Mahal I was unconvinced to leave and got a place to sit As excited to enjoy the environment, withal It was the inside on the right,
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,
Sifting through the sands of time trying to make out truth from lies I realize that there is no telling the truth everything is a lie, everything is a truth.. The moments color the perception emotions add the hues shades
That roasting night when honeyed moon hung high weaving a humming sound I spoke to clouds. It happens every night, when smoke rises to discover the pain of a falling star. I start making a god from earth and water.
The street lamp validated it. I’m single, sui generis, without partner, lost entirely in self. East, up the street, no shadow cast. Turning this way and that a black specter, once sewn to my heel, deserted me. Under the lamp,
Immersion in a regal carnage. Ash colored dawn was gang-raped. A bullet-ridden sexism shuts out the fame. Starts a chilling confession. O, my orion I adore your ruffled stance. Do not make a kill. Sunflower, why your seeds were participating
Eons ago, the gods feared us. Eons ago, humankind was invincible. Eons ago, we were complete. We harnessed the power of Eros, romantic love. We had Eros because we were already joined with the one person who completed us. We
I see them each day on my way to global politics 201 years worn, moss filled with cracks along the armrests I can remember one day seeing, two lovers in those chairs surely their intent, to facilitate the couples conversation
Alone and unwanted. Unnecessary and useless. Unable to satisfy. In need of replacing. The heat of the moment. Now died down. Left unfeeling. Mind still racing. A touch once hot. The passion now gone. No longer needed. No more devoured.
From the higgledy-piggledy house Came Sister Andre the nun, Who dreamed of having a spouse So she could have more fun. She told her secrets to a field mouse That she also wanted a son, So she packed her blackest
I will encounter all barriers I will cross all the horizons I don’t require any carriers For taking fire from the sun Love is that force which enforces All the time it reinforces When your lips just endorse Then opens
Particles that predict sufficiently compose respectively where fraction is reduced to identify and multiply division in a difference of separation. Maya my beautiful I reflect your effect and in direct your direction. I offer myself your protection. Translate my translucent
An unknown awaits to come out from her dark closet slowly leaven to ensure the pain to be undefined something anxious is always on her mind resting to fulfill her choice. It’s not a follow up path for her it’s
Running punctuality and just enough, under loyalty, The way the northern winds blew my skirts was seen by a youthful sun, mouthing expletives, It was under that noon, I met thee. Racing against cold blankets from afar, and fighting cocooned
Morning came and dreams walked out, A savage life was knocking my door With harsh iron hands holding an unpalatable casket Loading grey flowers of troubles having colorful multitudes Immaterial my blinking desire, my aversion and perturb It ran in
My room, My refuge An inspirer, a pacifier A companion in all my moods A critic, a counselor For all I do and seek A haven during troubled times A fortress for my soul to keep It holds my pleasures and
Focused on burgundy palms as the age blinks, you start distressing on a unipolar pinnacle, biting the nails. The road absorbs the horizon. Perched on a controversial tree the birds break into small events to reach the grass roots. A
A tribal fear was lurking, behind a surge of emotion. The sun was looking black. A sexual abuse of a quaint flower aborts the fruit. This year we will go hungry. A nascent seed stripped on road- cries for water.
I am a Traveler, a Wanderer as a Soul “Life” – a great journey I am gonna discover and explore. Routes are dicey, paths are hardly smooth and are always wild, Every corner of the road holds a New unexpected