Effort poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of effort poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on effort are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Follow the flight of a sparrow Shall skip, with peg as arrow Jumps from branch to branch Moves inch by inch Jumps from land to tree Singing so free Slide to lure his pair Glide to catch his share Floats
And so, with trembling heart I dare to embrace your clean white sheet And mark it with my scribblings. To make a sentence, where to start? And where to feel complete? Does it matter if my style don’t rhyme? I’m
A face unbeknownst – belying recognition, To create mighty buildings is his mission. With caring hands does he mix, The cement and mud that he spreads over the bricks. Over his head he carries, The stones brought from the quarries.
It takes relentless effort to form new neuron connections for higher order thinking And without pain there is no gain no matter how badly you try tricking Only the most difficult of experiences teach the highest order lessons in living
In the next moment of her journey, The life itself evaporating from the track ! The sinking thoughts are hell scary, Rain was dreadful when she’s out of shack ! Leaving her home and everyone there with teary eyes, Dont
She came into this world with a healthy loud cry. She was so very excited but, things looked awry. There were no happy smiles to greet her arrival., She had no clue, she had caused such upheaval. She was not
On a bright summer afternoon, Sometime around July I saw something like a cocoon, About to be a butterfly At the break of the night, On the 16th day It took its first flight, Towards the skies far away With
When pillars are broken building is to drop With their support roof remains at the top With their strength destination is to hop With out them every effort is to flop Parents are but real mercy of God In their
Words are left unspoken, feeling are listless We speak, but barely talk Venice was never so far Your silence kills me My effort is futile, the love we had is an empty boat Sailing with no hope to reach ashore
How can White define the Spread of days, Speed, a haze, The blank slate, Looks barren. The pause button seems too long- Can perseverance deter patience? Maybe, the force of resistance, Has been guillotined, To the blow of flow. Time,
Rain, go somewhere else, I’m pained within. Wash away hurtful experiences. longed to hold onto my innocence, beauty. flawed personality, though wounded. Rain, don’t improve appearances, It’s my heart that needs mending, Start renewing what’s most important, It’s not my
I believe the ‘wee of a day’ Is the early morning when The babes are still sleeping The cocks have not yet crowed Hounds are just coming from the hunt Owls have not yet started dreaming. I believe the ‘wee
Staring not so intently into an enigmatic void Oblivious to environs & of prospects devoid None of exultant joy even misery too amiss Suspended in a limbo between gloom & bliss Each of effort laboring however much slight Most of
Self help can be yours. It lightens the load a little more. Put know-how to use and do. It helps to see us through. Find thing on the remove. Polish them up and re-do. Then take another look. Was effort
Tired ,frustrated from Life and job I have a Dialogue with God , With eyes closed, I ask , Dear God what is Happiness ? Is Happiness subjective and just one’s perspective. Or is it Utopian, With rich for more,
The destination of life is same for all, Just the path gets contrasting as we crawl, A few reach the destination with comfort, And most reach it with a lot of tiring effort, In the end heads are high for
There once was an imp whose appearance was vain, his behavior was foolish, even his speech and imposing mannerisms were maimed! From those eastern cannibalistic lands afar he and his kind had once been blessed, indentured to serve the superlative
At Sarnath the deer park where Gautama the Buddha first taught the dharma FROM THE HEART –A BHIKSHU’S SUPPLICATION Enlightened lord your wisdom is our knowledge , sufficient is that knowledge to ensure our covenant with wisdom in its turn
Self-love is the path to enlightenment, they say. A needle in the arm, a line snorted will never compare with a kiss on the cheek. A shot down the gullet or vapors inhaled will pale to a long lingering hug.
first I woke the birds clumsy steps on crumbling asphalt it was the antidepressants an undiagnosed chemical stroke my mood uplifted my right foot dragging on occasion tripping over carpet or in this case turd-black pebbles clattering waking hidden birds
My boo boo what have we become, I’m so depressed an all alone. I’m desperate and somewhat oppressed, What’s a man to do when he’s distressed. Try to touch you but to no avail, All my efforts are quickly unrailed.
It’s a childish sensibility that builds its own walls With drawbridge, moat and ramparts to break down Besieged for years by catapults and archers and fire-slinging foes Before the fortress finally falls and the flag is captured That’s when he
Sitting back and gazing at the contingencies, That had their existence owing to a lack of effort, A lack of attitude, a lack of passion, The picture seemed so dark then, so dull, When people had given up all hopes,
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
Non-thinking was a tremendous effort, I scratched the years one by one. Between you and me was a river, it has gone now. Are you beyond the imagination? My eyelids bleed, and there is a painful punctuation. Give me fireflies,
You are perfect my love.. Perfect in your imperfections. You are my best effort, to improve myself.. I am as old as you are.. We fight,we argue, we laugh And together let us scoff whoever makes you feel otherwise.. Be
Complexion and hair he possesses are bright We can compare him to a film black and white Nay, he has no cooling equipment at home Although cushion and mattress made of foam He is a writer and became my friend
I like Nothing – not in the sense of disliking Everything – but simply the concept; it’s peaceful, liberating. there is Nothing more rejuvenating than a day of Nothingness. no wandering of my mind to keep me awake, empty thoughts
My better half in life alias wife lay tired & fatigued while toiling at the house chores for days & months I could see her charm gradually dwindling her anger terribly rising by leaps & bounds I got worried and