Fragmentation poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of fragmentation poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on fragmentation are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
She smiled for a deep need of admiration Her world was of fantasy and delusion Her senses of mental fragmentation She welcomed someone When no one was there She never knew when she was sick Like demons tugging the stigma
Walk ever faintly with me, my love Barefoot upon the salted apron shore Let us sip the fading western light Savor the bodied flavor of recent wounds Bow completely to descending night Heal imperfectly beneath comforting moons ..until daylight reveals
Piecemeal summer dies long winter spreads it’s blanket again. For ten years I have lived in exile, locked in this rickety cabin, shoulders jostled up against open Alberta sky. If I were young again, I’d sing of coolness of high
I do apologize Giving you credit on your day, Mother You’d think you fell into oblivion And to memory you come occasionally, Mother You’d think the stream of my love From my heart stops flowing, Mother You’d think my eyes
It fell like nothing before, and tried hard to quench the thirst, but every drop of it failed, whether the last..or the first…. The coolness was now a dream, the passion a haste, hence when it kissed the ground, it
It all seems important until someone doesn’t remember the squabbling plans of a coven of third grade girls to torment a classmate each with a thick red pencil sharpened for poking each put together as glossy as a nine-year old
(Jesus speaks at Liberty University, Virginia, wearing a T-shirt and jeans.) Now, a lot of you have asked me some very good questions, And a lot of these questions seem to go along the lines of: “Who is God? Is
Oh! black clouds, Go from here, I don’t want thunders, I don’t want lightning, I don’t want rains, My beloved is away. When he left the village, I was just thirteen, But I am now sixteen, And I now understand,
the blue moon rises in the broken October sky a crooked smile crosses her face a tear in un-knowing eyes the puppet master pulls the strings the puppet seems surprised she dances in the moonlight in the yard where graves
I was obsessed with ‘Picture Perfect’, I searched the world inside and out, Looking for a single moment when I could say, This is what life’s all about. My life was viewed through lenses, My camera- a medal worn with
How does it feel to see the Flamingo, when the sun is shining through the clouds, while sitting next to the window, the cool breeze touching the cheeks like healing wounds. when I became happiest of all, it is everything
Gladys was a devote Baptist and a Sweet old lady who never had anything Bad to say about anybody so when this Young man moved into the neighborhood They said you can just look into his eyes And see he’s
How will it change when we know? How will civilization be rearranged? All that we known comes from one place and time, one little speck in space. Great religions over eons have arisen telling all how things must certainly be.
Tonight I will not sleep I will call you in my eyes. My hands were trembling when I opened the book. Words you uttered long back tumbled out ashen-faced. I started burning inside. Where did we take a wrong turn?
Today, I will not shift to baritone Every time a lady calls. I will not pretend to be watching Formula 1 While my eyes are on Nigella Lawson. I will help Mrs. Rangaswami across the street Even while nobody’s watching.
The elevator smells like a woman I knew for a day back when I wasn’t such a behemoth could resist the mouth-temptations of savor and texture it was a bar and I was under-age but no one spotted the guilty
Flashing TV images Condoling messages Innumerable memories Anecdotes and tributes Exchange of smiles and tears Days of mourning And minutes of silence A beautiful soul A brilliant mind A humane heart A smiling face A charismatic style A humble demeanor
Hey Friend; There is no need to pretend, I can see what’s coming ahead , I can really sense the end; My bright days turning to twilight, My world’s turning Black and White, Something’s not right, Something’s never right; It
Love is neither optional, nor happens by choice. It just happens, you either accept or deny, Love can be at first sight or start at a goodbye plight, Feelings arise, touching the skies, A choice to act on them or
Money is like honey Money makes one happy Money makes the face smiley Money creates audacity Money makes one wealthy Money gets Joy Money can make one merry Money is required to marry Money can take one to land of
Orang Ulu… loping through mottle-green light of the jungle-track, lighter than dawn-mist and nimble as wild-cat. Hunt-hounds around-him are bounding and wailing a death-hymn or baying for deer-spoor or fat-ox or wild-boar. Ulu agape at the edge of a clearing,
I feel like the mist – drifting through the air, With no purpose but to fog your vision while you stare, Then dissipate when the sun breaks through, Nowhere to go or be – something you once knew, So insignificant
A strange desperation sets in again nothing seems right nothing seems worthwhile there is something amiss the will to live is gone whatever I stand for seems despicable I lack belief and I lack courage I look for a way
When Mum first presented you I thought you were a trick. Your attempts to buy me off with a Metallica C.D. demonstrated your pettiness. I didn’t say anything at the time ‘cos I didn’t want to hurt her feelings in
It’s not like, I did not have a choice… But I’m trying to subdue, My innermost voice…! I know intuitions, Show us the way… But this time, I’m not going to sway…!! Because there is nothing, Mortally I can do..