Frets poems bring the best collection of short and long frets poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great frets rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these frets poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on frets are here for you.
My acoustic six strings Where have you been A piece of wood a group of strings Maplewood rosewood Nylon steel You even have a gold plating It keeps me wondering So pure so sweet I pluck you I strum you
Waiting, wailing, weeping! When..when..when ??? The expected turns out to be the unexpected!! What have I done? Why do I merit this award? Months and months of agonizing waiting… rewarded with a still- born! Only to have a heart torn?
She rocks the stage with elan Speaking not much with her clan Music her soul her heart Hands always moving like a work of art Strumming with fourths eighths and sixteenths Counting 1234 in patterns of beats Never a count
Hear the sound of bees with a buzzing sting, Of new beginnings and of what’s to bring. Such vibrant species Arise from this season we call spring. Watch the beauty of flowers as they bloom And you rid yourself from
They say husbands are supposed to be strong I think many have it wrong. Husbands have feelings and emotions too But many wives don’t have a clue. Give him a chance to express himself You just might understand how he
When the curtain falls, the puzzled instinct inherits the confusion of clouds. The beleaguered moon goes into a rage. Hungry vultures start a wait for the fall of a titan, stimulating the sun to exhibit the trove of the golden
Einstein called it spacetime, opposite sides of the same coin. The Universe is expanding. In fact, science says the expansion is speeding up. But what is it expanding into? Time gives us a clue. What is time expanding into? Yesterday
A car zipped through the early morning silence bursting in sound the stillness of sunrise Sol emerged in golden rays cast upon the new day A robin hopped as though dancing in rhythm to ‘The Dawn Chorus’ who woke the
The tears have washed my sins. Taming the dead, I start a vivisection of myths. I take an impromptu walk, go inside my weaker self, abandon the pretension and come face to face with the fear. No portrait, no symbol,
This is me. What do I look like? Well…I look a bit like this: Tall, slim, longish hair… But what colour is my hair? Blond? Brown? Bubblegum pink? And how does my story go? Well…it goes something like this: You
Craving though strong but unable to discern Await relevant pointer a call for what I yearn Inconceivable as of now with time guess resolve A purpose to existence and culpability absolve Bestowed while ample still something’s amiss Nagging at the
Bunch of flowers, fresh fragrant showers, timidly waiting for something. I hear a sound buzzing around, Where am I? Where I’ve been? Is it for real? Or, is it just a dream? Tinsel beads cover the trees, and the strolling
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.
Tear these eyes out of these tired circle of bones, make them see beauty hidden beneath the frailness of lost perfection. The doom so seductively draped in velvet only to offer to the life dance. What I chose is whispered
For the Heavens I strive, To make purpose from being alive, To ascend one bright day, To have visions enough to parlay. For becoming a better man, To give to those I sometimes can’t, To show how deeply I can
Victories out of lost battles… Soundless sighs of unwelcomed past… Past that tried to travel to future… Future of those who were busy… Busy with their lives… Lives they meant by dreams… Dreams out of their sleep… Sleep that never
Every moment that I spent with you How much was delightful How exciting and delectable it was But it is the reflection of the past now I passed every moment with you until tomorrow Now are the remnants of memories
My love is fire, full of light Which makes surroundings bright Whenever she comes in sight My heart pounces with delight I have made her fortune and fate My life starts with that date When counters her graceful gait Soul
The game of love Some play with other hearts Yet they end up alone without excuses And when they realize they lost their whole lives Time cannot go back and fix the mess And so they go looking for another
Our country got long awaited Freedom at Midnight on 14th Aug. 1947 When the world was sleeping We were awake and joyous In celebrating the Freedom All the pains and sorrows Got subdued at that moment We cherished and enjoyed
I know a face,a beautiful face Constantly explored by race Resides within me with Grace Beauty insider holds “HER” Space I know “She” is insider,”She” is Chic Neither by ornaments,nor by Gold “She” in natural looks is an aesthetic “Her”
After the rain wets the ground, a damp, naked silence, floats in air on the wrong side of the moon. A strange mist, like a post coital whiff envelops you savagely. The testa breaks. A forest heaves beneath your nails.
I will encounter all barriers I will cross all the horizons I don’t require any carriers For taking fire from the sun Love is that force which enforces All the time it reinforces When your lips just endorse Then opens
When the dawn-bringer brings the dawn And golden cascades hang forlorn A milky light translucent finds A fractured chink in sleep-soaked minds And heralds morning bright with prospects Its full potential no-one suspects Detours and dreams as yet concealed That
Droplets dew settle sweet Upon a flower gentle sway Cricket’s empathy to the nightress sings Symphonies which chorus soon negates Darkness surrenders into full retreat Withdraws shadow from woodland’s bush and glade To a new found dawn; rhapsody with fresh
Although we are an Ocean apart you are deep in my heart I think about you every day and dream about you every night in this mansion that overlooks the Lakelands that can sometimes be a lonely place but knowing
I always feel I have deceived my conscience My conscience pricks me for what I did I try to convince my conscience for all the wrong I did My conscience accepts my decision but rejects my action I get into
Best friends are angels sent from above, They deserve every bit of your true love. This relationship is beautiful and wise, Rendering to life a spirit that never dies. What will happen in the end? To a life that has
You can learn a lot about a person watching them eat an apple even watching them in the supermarket give them a five dollar bill and tell them pick out any apple you want, it’s on me those store aisles
Again the panic grips. Clones from the frozen cells of rot-scented rafflesia growing in abundance. Huge pitchers are swarming the landscape. You walk into the trap. The lid falls, blocks the way out and sharp spikes pierce through you, so