Enchant poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of enchant poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on enchant are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
She slept with her demons, To live those dreams, They weren’t reality, Yet, oh! So pretty. Not pristine, What a pity, Those nights of heavy rain, Might give her also a forever stain. All the cards on her side, A
As he grew up behind the hill In a small village beside the mill Dreaming the dreams he had to dream He frolicked upon the meadows so green A childhood so sweet he lived upon Flowers and fragrance and the
I cheer up when I see thy nature… Thy nature in depth of creativity… I wonder how thou created wings… Wings of those unbalanced creatures… Those angels and demons… Silencing parity of loquacious radars… Those unsung musical rhythms… Rhythms that
Amazing and awesome dream you are, I wish this dream coming true tomorrow, With new hopes of enthusiasm and exuberance, When the Sun is curious to rise in the morning. Beautiful and becoming you are for me, That always reflect
This path. This path glows with vibrant hues, Bathed in the morning glow and full of the most Stimulating fragrance. It leads and I follow, I care not where I go, for this road has me in the deepest entrancement.
An Aesop’s Fable A humming bird sweet-toned and silvery In a cage, trapped, sang a somber song In the ebony-dark, dismal night… Sang she ne’er in hours of daylight A bat as dusky as a blackbird’s wing Was enchant’d by
As the tram runs on the rails, Weather bitten houses emerge telling tales, Revolutionaries’ urge for freedom, Idealism in poetry and fiction, Reminiscent of immortal singers, Dancers in their grace, Tears trickle down in claustrophobia; yearning for a home which
Hello dear where you have been since we met last in the canteen I have been looking for you everywhere even in dreams you’re so beautiful that you take my breath away your awesome company complete me in so many
Writing on my sleeves, I visualize an invisible coupling of grassroots with starless sky, when I walk on the wailing earth. Hails big as sparrow eggs smash the bougainvillea blossoms. The wrestling clouds begin a storm. Witchcraft of the moon
Never say that you’re unlucky When you have a shoulder to place your head on, Never say that you have nothing When you have one’s hand to swipe your tears, Never say that you’re alone When you see that wet
They have always been together Holding close, that fondness for each other Be it for a soapy shower And drying themselves on a blower Or resting as and when in their Box- bed Like some lovebirds newly wed Life for
Thirty five years ago I had dreams galore, Planning and executing my mini master plans of life ahead, Moon-eyed and romantic I entered into wedlock, Holding hands and making promises of undying love, was I Of half a century weight,
Sometimes souls are inspired Sometimes souls are broken Sometimes souls have goals Sometimes souls be laissez-faire Is there really a purpose for the existence of a soul? My soul contemplated. First there was nothing when the soul was personified in
Those ruins of tomorrow Could they make me hollow? On the wings of hope this day, Swinging from the blue skies… the flight of despair stuck in the cries. Teased by the winds, Pushed by the blinds, Waking up to
Today gives me an ethernal hurting of the raging night, my moon had crashed on the wings of flamingoes While saying farewell to crying winds of the creek when waves slapping sideways on crazy shores of silence, another watchman of
Headphones bleed From the chords I believe Were struck by the master… The master of hands… Of ”Ladyland”, electric A vinyl worth the weight Of three bricks of gold For its’ platinum sold, and- I could never trade that thrill
~Wanting to feel your breath in this room, in half-light, my hands opened the window to let him in, the green moon. For so much violence in everyday life. let’s break a poem and sqeeze its honey and carve only
Somewhere in a cottage down by the lake lands hidden out of sight…superstition is like a religion no one understands… well and in the darkness of the night Lightning strikes the water parting the rain as I sit here by
A day of clouds scudding across a production-line sky, vaporous dreadnaughts, caravels lumber by above, never disturbing, the ocean’s surface they defy. The sun becomes a signal lamp speaking in poetry to the static lands of the earth whispering: not
There’s a mask that everyone wears To shield who they really are inside To hide ugly scars and bury fear So none will know of his inner strife There was a nervous man He had a violently palpitating heart It
I wish often, to be a free bird, And swoop along the far-flung skies, Flying high, cruising the worlds, Lavish with engaging exotic aria. Could I be perchance, that first rain, That creates emotions, so light, The earth enjoying the
Hell is a compartment inside the earth where a person’s soul goes to after they die. It’s a place of punishment for our rebellion against God Punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord And
World at my window, my window-framed world! You twist and twirl my giddy-headed breath awhirl! In sun and moon and rain you look in and walk on by; In shade and dew-fall and wind, you heed not my sigh. In
Sixth sense, a magical phenomenon, a super natural phenomenon, a gift bestowed upon some people by the Supreme Lord. Each and everyone has got sixth sense; Only those who are spiritually connected to God, Experience the direct perception of truth.
As the ink flows and the heart glows, While your words rejoice in an enormous light, How do you come up with another set of questions? And still have a peaceful plight.. Trust your instinct within, Feed your fire, fuel
The only thing which restrain Our progress and does train Us to locate the farthest wain And show us how we are wane. Exams by force does restrain Our growth changes into inane. We found nobody to explain Why teachers
I have found her, The woman that haunts my dreams, In a vacant home with broken beams, She fixed my life like mending seams, And made it bright akin polished rims, I have found her, In an open road that
Waiting for a chaste bread, whole life under the moon, to speak off the inconsistency of happiness, with a monologue of a needle in eyes for a madness of sublime verse. Canoeing in a frozen lake for a stranded rose,
The city appears with three folds The wintry upper sky is quite red With dim looking sun The middle level is foggy, Zero level is full of chill wind. The man you had seen in last summer on narrow street
This is a post dedicated to the crazy people who were and who are out there. Life shows new things every day, Some are sad, Some happy. Some are interesting, Some dull. Some make us cry, Some make us laugh.
Stammering quarrel with classical fluidity, fails to measure the uncertainty. I was finding my rocks, that chunk of certainty in midstream, when you were not sailing with me. The wait, stirs high the separated pain. Boat capsizes on high sea,