Exam poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of exam poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on exam are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
The voices, unheard The image, unseen. The crevasse that separates The analysis from my mind. It can’t reach me, as I cannot reach it myself. But still I am told to reach For the goal that I cannot see. Before,
I tire of the feelings of dread That envelop my heart every day. The dread, and the hopelessness, That fuels this necessary evil of life. Analysis, thinking, computation, Makes my brain overheat Like an outdated machine under pressure. But still
Where thou are My creator and my god from the moment you knew I am never a second you unthought me my tantrums; you smiled my attitudes; you redirected you knew me better than me your love boundless selfless yet….
Today, streets shamelessly bathe, after they were piled by east winds, which were imported from West, North and South, since that news bulletin to which nobody gives mind. At the hall there is a red coat, a pink boot filled
Something ominous and undefined, illustrative and versatile. Something ambiguous, and something so subtle it hardly exists. Almost is all these things and more. It occupies life around its every corner. It is the grey between the blacks and whites, The
The angel of friendship rumoured of an affair with a demon; The legacy of beings of every Earth Lives through its connections. A tale of geese of the morning sky, Pose as a ‘V’, glorifying amity. Owing to misapprehension of
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
Freedom an aftermath of martyrdom,a mark of remembrance, A status of solace to be free from heartrending surveillance. But, Jasmine, the fallen pleasure on the road dust Stares at me with a plea to lift her tenderly, To save her
Preparation. Fear. Worry. An open door. A desk A pen An A4 booklet Noise Suddenly Sitting Quiet. A voice Instruction Begin. Reading Questions. White paper. Cryptic I can’t understand. Fear. Worry Panic Sweat SCREAM silently Tears Breakdown Closed Brain-death Failure
Quixotic life brings wonderful thinking In such wee hour of foggy winter night Sitting on the spacious balcony with rural setting Feeling the favour of native care. With drowsy eyes. It is not uncommon in recent Thou has started to
Our children…our youth, let’s talk to them and listen more. Outer behaviour is all, we try to cure There’s more behind, we need to explore. Let them cry, laugh and express, all they want to pour As caregivers and mentors,
Discarded, on a heap of broken ceramics, a rotten tooth wants an award, for biting the snake. Who was pulling the strings? The temper of a black moon beguiles the sun. The green-pathway was hidden under the rock. Who was
In the morning I miss my childhood In the mid day, the lunch We had together, In the evening the harmonious Sound of the musical tunes Of your talk, At night The short slumbers We had together, but now I
On their first meet their eyes emitted current on gazing at each other On the day of their engagement Their heartbeats clashed with one other On the day of marriage their soul got mingled amidst reverberating sound of music On
Im in a bar, not just any bar, a magical place that takes me any place. A couple of stellas and I’m starting to think wouldn’t it be great to go to Australia and actually not think. The banter,the bollocks
Listen that delicate one at the stream With the touches of rays at the shimmering cheeks That rhythming heart with troughs and the peaks With the waters of eyes and the emotions, cream Quiet is the drop and the orangish
found discarded in a blackberry verge rebar caked in layers dirt and rust like an alien archeologist might lovingly wrest from a sandy pit blow it clean with lepidopterous lips much heavier than appears it should strains elbow and shoulder
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
The harmonious companionship is of no easy access Especially after many betrayals I’ve experienced as a witness From the uneasy feeling my tough disguises derive By whom the romantic elements are stolen from my life? Nobody can discard all world
Oh, mosquitoes, children of lust, you hover all over the world, to suck blood for own cause and multiply. Helpless society and frustrated victims are your brooding ground. You’ve outnumbered leeches and vampires only through a strategy of invading indoors.
I thought the biggest lie, That I’ve ever heard.. Is, as we let time fly, Feelings get blurred…! But nothing changed, As the flame was still strong… I had been estranged, And I knew it was wrong…!! It seemed years
When you wake up. Is it worth it. Facing another day. Feeling nothing but psychological pain. Feeling like no one cares about you. Thinking that your life is worthless. Feeling that your insignificant. Knowing you have freinds but feeling alone.
Will the shouts work on blood seeds in climate of conflicts? Winter was shrinking. Give me a hand. I am going to invite clouds softly. Let the drumming start. War has broken out on many fronts for a god, for
Will you celebrate in heaven? Have all your birthdays been and gone? Are you 35 forever? Acting like you’re twenty one! Will Granny give you apples? And Taid build you fort? Will you have a pint with Gavin? Dutch beer,
The reverse gravity pulls me into timelessness, holds me to become free from tremors. The truth of zero morality hurts. I am pathless, secular, godless. The blank paper decides, how the fingers will move. The uniform has a secret rendezvous
Why can’t we think about others before thinking about ourselves, why should it always be Me, Me, Me…it’s a crying shame people are too self-absorbed these days to care about anything else, now I’m not saying it’s that way with
Our poets the fools, as always they are, Mistake the shouts and cry of a bird, As its song, the melody, not thinking The pain, it suffers as ‘thrown outs’, By own mother, attacked by a stranger, The crow, a