Garbage poems bring the best collection of short and long garbage poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great garbage rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these garbage poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on garbage are here for you.
It’s the shitty line he used Making you feel like garbage Like the trash you leave Wrapped tightly in a black bag On the side of the road Waiting to be picked up by someone else Recycled and recycled While
The vagabond was once again on the window, Begging love and asking to open the gate, And the fairy inside the house reluctant, Said helpless she was being slave of the fate, First you peep in the four windows, Starting
You waited too much about thirty years before you can say jack robinson otherwise life like a water under the desert always played tricks on you, pushed you hunchbacked inside caverns where everything drips and leaves a small hole everything
There once was a pink pig named Horton Who decided it was time to go courtin’ He surveyed the pen, and picked a sweetie named Gwen Snorted Horton let the mating begin Horton bellied on up to his quarry Twixt
Walking down Fifteenth Avenue trying to ease the cramped claws of plantar fasciitis out of my foot sun is juice-orange above the horizon keeping a constant shade creeping up the sky there is shredded paper in the gutters firecracker red
Why did you have to come in this world to become a medical waste? There was no urgency to dropp in and then remain unnoticed, with no symptoms of life. Later scooped by a dumper you are thrown on garbage.
This fake city encounters a thundering moment; I go down coveting a mating call from an explosion of hallowed questions, with no answers. Stones were after all stones, not gems of knowledge. How can you make a universal elixir figuratively
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
Tonight sleep was not coming to me. Tears had washed the splinters out of the bruised eyes. It was becoming extremely hard to pulversize the legacy, the tendrils of violence. Wrapped in white shrouds the bodies were laid out on
A little childhood collecting Waste papers on a garbage dump Asked me, “Am I borne to do this job?” I had no answer A childhood begging on roadside Asked me, “Is my childhood borne for begging?” I had no answer
Too tired to sleep on in the morning, I wake up afraid of my own dreams, when the garbage truck arrives at my backdoor.Those men collecting everything with gloves, their tanned and hardened skin. They’re my stepbrothers because they feel
Who are forgivers? Forgiveness belongs to those with a big heart, people of a strong heart, and powerful in mind; ambassador of peace and jocund, those with heart of kindness and people with milk of benediction. Can you forgive? Yes!
A severed hand on my shoulder wrenches it off. You sit on a toadstool to measure the depth of grass. A raven scans the earth: nothing was left to eat. The hungry urchins had already punctured the garbage can. A
A spoken word is best spoken lyrically, Extracted from brain, twisted and forged physically, Abosorbed and heart felt, i hope you find the ability, To try and understand these writen words instead of reading them cynically, A difference in opinion
A little childhood collecting Waste papers on a garbage dump Asked me, “Am I born to do this job?” I had no answer A childhood begging on roadside Asked me, “Is my childhood born for begging?” I had no answer
As within, is without So simple to find that out Are you so pale? Examine every detail Once you are alert Watchful and smart Junk food you intake The law you break Is your guiding voice A terrible choice The
I imagine a heaving expanse no shore in sight and an ice-making wind blowing the tops off the waves. The ocean is dark as steel except for the blowing foam with just a little relent near the surface, a lighter
We walked, twinkle-toed, through the night’s hush A ‘Sherlock Holmes’ deerstalker capping my skull And the red Che-star on your beret (left of centre); Hand in hand Finger looped to finger Palms sweating, Lips twinging from a freshly chiselled kiss
THREE POEMS 1 NEW YEAR The dates on calendar question all my undone actions and memories that haunt or fade in nightly nakedness stumbling toward the next day’s sun without celebration at 65 January jeers my degenerating sex a still
From my lashes fall a salty solution but never the solution to the trigger of my violent pollution. Feeding the well within me with ammunition of self-pity. My thoughts seeking through garbage dumps of my mishaps, picking up and hoarding
And with a gust of defeat; the future seems familiar. Has the oneness forgotten about me? The interconnectedness of futile Embellishments followed by straights of garbage, lack-luster trash, soul-less sirens of shit-laced spines, irrelevance, trains without brakes. Exposure, death, the
This is my home large, colorful, abstract real paintings on the wall a reflection or deflection from the self? Light gasping for life emitting from the lamp brushing past the faces so bright This is my home A sanctuary of
A piece of glass shattered distorted on the floor A form no longer but pieces of what was once before A person would be dead if he broke but you wouldn’t be sure A slow process of gathering information to
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.
People surrounded but my heart is numb Tears cover my eyes Time goes by Everyone asks why But I never reply Forgotten so many years ago Now why I’m questioned? For what reason I’m alive? Everything is silent. All my
It was the winter night of that year When tricky fate stormed my family When my beloved mom was left alienated With the abominable tragic demise of my dad And was burdened with six posthumous infants in her lap. The
As we board the ship of our hearts, as we navigate through the sea of love, we will discover very many things. things that often contradict themselves. there will be towering waves that upturn our ship. there will be gentle
Oh procrastination How you’ll be the death of me You get worse and worse the closer I get to graduation I guess we’ll just have to wait and see If you get me put on academic probation After you arrived,