Farfalla poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of farfalla poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on farfalla are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
They fill my stomach, block its sky lIke reams of paper hasserai acid shades of autumn leaves sent aloft without a breeze they cloud my brain they rain, un-rain and rain again. and stall each lane of acumen thrashing, crashing,
The mood was vile and monstrous, Gloom hung in the air, Walking on fragile cracks of emotion, Dare I speak in converse. Ridiculous to feel fearfulness, Of someone who holds envy within, Can we guide this competitor, To overcome the
She came to visit me from America, Everybody shouted, she is my replica. She is very pretty, white and pink, She wore her jacket, made of mink. My little lady always looked very busy, Serving tea with her beautiful tea-cosy.
Tables laden with stones and gems, Adornment for a lady and her hems. Cat’s eyes in necklaces, sapphires and rubies, Shimmering in oriental colors- Such beauties! Strange and mystical dark objects, Matched by inscrutable, smiling Nepalis. Eager to please and
I have no shepherd, so I must go on wanting I lie down in dry and brown pastures of pain I am shipwrecked on high troubled seas My soul is restless, tossed, and torn I’m heading aimlessly up a miserable
Hic, Hic-Hic, Hic-Hic-Hic…! The night Lay in the Veil of darkness Letting out A series Of hiccups One after another While The Sun Shone brightly Lighting the world Down under! Was the night Getting wary Of doing long hours Of
Work for your day – Satisfaction is what you ultimately crave. Die each day, do you wish to celebrate THE day? Laugh off every sting that penetrates. Deep inside it recovers and sprouts the ache. Laugh at the moment, for
Long barbed wire- rage- divides nations imaginary line in the blue sky- fear- keeps nations alert beyond the waves of shore, a nation’s hand of power keeps control, subjects are squeezed, rulers thump feet, earth is divided in the name
A beautiful portrait of lovely ladies hangs in front of me in my workplace gazing at them I often wonder- – Where, where have we come from being them? ? Bejewelled, bedecked, beautified – -an epitome of adornment coy, silent.demure.humble
Death will not wait. Locked in bruises, I want eternity. Stinking pubes, micro to zero-gravity. Kernel rises like a star. Touch was not real How far you will go? Earth was collapsing. My father was right, Don’t climb to the
It was night sin of domesticity. Dyed, I am loading the white secret of pain in the hollow of a mayhem. Till every blunder takes a downward flight striping the outsized image of a kill. His flames are now singeing
Eating fire, but entangled in the cobwebs, of becoming or not becoming a child again; in the hollow of a maimed body looking beyond the opaque hirsutism of lies. Path leads to inward lake where I will meet you on
We the people, we the youth, we the creatures, these all are universal truth. We the destroyers will remain mute as we will not get any ripe fruit. We the masters, we the blasters, we can stop many disasters. We
We all speak of love and loss But do we really know the cost? Not appreciating their presence, Till they have reached heaven. We all speak of forgiveness and forgetting. But are we even trying? The act of claiming to
There’s an empty hole Left behind Heartache and sorrow are entwined In every action, thought and feeling I have A big part is missing since you have passed Sadness tainting memories with lost hope Externally showing to all I can
The night in Love.. The lady shatter her dream.. She sacrifices all her career.. For the sake of love.. She surrender.. In front of Beloved one.. Ooh you caught me.. Oooh make me fine.. Oooh you love me… The man
There was a man stepping off the curb forward progress drawing him into line the city bus intent on cheating the amber light I saw oblivion coming, certain then in the next moment revolved around a crash stop, no squeal
That fugitive dream of shrinkage: a room in a room a door in a door. You were hurting the house affairs at midnight. The space accident starts dismanteling the life. Selective pain comes again. You start distancing from story touch,
Outside, always looking in, A deafening silence encompasses the room. Inside, never turning around, Embellished laughter and empty smiles fortify a line of demarcation. Alone. The soot amasses dusty clouds, Engulfing the couches and various chairs. Never to be used,
I wish you were still the stranger I admired Will I think again before I chain myself to another restless departure Fitting you in everyday is a sickness it breaks me As a night dark caught in look waiting out
There was existence, without space. I was afraid of my unborn child. Inheriting the stammer of history I could not think of any brand abuse. On the contrary, fumes throw you off the road. Full moon rising on the cleft.
Moonless shadows flicker from an ebbing amber candle on the farm house porch just off Old Mill Road, too hot to sleep. Solstice stillness in rural dark deepens following a distant dim lightning flash rumbling thunder this midsummer night. Invisible
Everything shattered once and forever They were escaping from ultimate fever The fever of wars and massacres They saw hope waves So surfed blue waves Man lost the jewel and hopes waived Blue said, don’t make me red For hundreds,
Eyes watery as the vista yonder, salt sting tears scouring this face. A month from shore and time to ponder how whalers live with Davy Jones’ grace. Inside pocket, oilskin pouch, old familiar, though faceless friend. Sanity’s saviour. Oh calabash
Moments of blur, moments of clarity, Moments of us, moments of rarity… It’s the illusion of reality we call life, when it really is just a metaphorical rife… I see us together, yet far apart. Maybe it’s the agony of
From farthest East, or more precise The forests vast on India’s breast, Rose hymns of wisdom that never dies, The words of knowledge, forever best. Those hymns were born from wisest hearts, As throats would trill in sombre shades; They
I am running behind the golden treasure, Not realizing what is actual pleasure. I am a person with greed in my soul, Not seeing the monster inside this gold. I am not the man who cares for the other, Not
I have no hi-fi desire, To overcome the mountains. I have no hi-fi desire, To bring draught to the water filled oceans. I have no hi-fi desire, To tread beyond the dark clustered clouds. I have no hi-fi desire, To
The aesthetic beauty of twilight , Reminds of a lost soul, In the fleeting moment of bygone years, That vanished to oblivion, Surfacing in the sea of thoughts, To bring back the silent hopes, Wishfully strewn in path of life.
When roses bleed thorns- it’s time to prune them. Waiting for seasons to change- is like waiting for silence to resolve- conflicts- a game of pride and rank. When roses bleed thorns- thistles outgrow the rosebuds; until color is lost
We have tasted the warmth of passion for the first time since the departure of the Fallen One. Its tender sweetness has almost been forgotten on our tongue. The Traveler has impacted us more than we thought possible. Such intensity