Glass poems bring the best collection of short and long glass poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great glass rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these glass poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on glass are here for you.
Seeing me in full in the looking-glass Is a stranger with new and senior tasks Not recognizable to me are the long gone years of the past Now with loss of hair and exaggerated features not recognizable to me or
Not yet, the courage will wait for the curtain to fall, will then disappear in awakening; the crucial thing was the love of absence the scythe of eclipsed moon. Suspense hangs from the tall image in slow turn of thighs
the first is touch losing touch sense of touch losing softness losing abrasions… in dark amputation… this is how it was, my mother did not die, just detached, gradually less tenuously linked to life, until there was no link… now
BROKEN GLASS Standing here in front of me Are many pieces before me Looking down all I see Are different colored pieces Of what was me Broken, shattered and scattered Use to resemble me The glass I see before me
The beauty of the world is captured in a glass bottle,all the good,the bad, and the ugly. On one side it storms and love is a lost art form shipwrecked on the coast of loneliness. It’s where guilty pleas are
Egos, like glass bottles, Always on edge; Of precarious ledge; Into a thousand pieces break when touched; Prick and poke the puerile mind; Until time heals the Bottle, and Back it goes to the edge. Man, slave of identity: glass
Though I clearly see Paralleling traits, Corresponding facets Astonishingly quaint, This complex, albeit moving, Prominent connection, Holds a minute blemish Worthy of reflection. Contrast, yes there’s one, A distinction can be drawn, For you’re rarely right, While I’m never wrong!
Perfect bridges for a fading light taking you to dark caves like fireclay in fake sorrows. The superstition of a race pool and unearthing the sacred temple under a mount of lies. In vitro a baby god sleeps waiting for
It is quiet now Only sounds of startled breath The glass lies quiety, soundlessly now, shattered upon the stairs Shining in the moonlight An impression of diamonds from rain It is dark You are unable to see the tears, the
The tide stroked at my toes. It reminded me how… gentle Your touch used to be. A gilded sun enveloped the glass sea, Glistening; the way your Eyes lit a darkened room. Waves, Crashed. Semi-translucent images Come and go on
I’ve felt much worse, but when I realised how long I’ve been staring at this blank white page without having my fingers moving, tapping on alphabets like it does before when I want it to, I saw a man who
Though I clearly see Paralleling traits, Corresponding facets Astonishingly quaint This complex, albeit moving, Prominent connection Holds a minute blemish Worthy of reflection. Contrast, yes there’s one, A distinction can be drawn, For you’re rarely right, While I’m never wrong!
(America, following a landmark agreement) Dear Mr. President, Was it worth it? Was it worth Selling your country’s freedom, The liberty it is so famous for, For a few extra bucks in your pocket? Was it worth Strangling the creative
There’s a man called Mr. Mischief, He tickles you till you cry out, Or puts pepper in your handkerchief and makes you have a sneezing bout, He hides your pencil under your pillow, He also hid my book, ‘Wind in
“A Noseless Woman” Once I saw a wretched woman, She was badly mistreated by a demon. She was an unfortunate wife, Her husband cut her nose with a knife. For her there was no place to hide, She sold glass
Through the frosted glass windows The bright streetlight … …sweeps into my room ..in a diffused spray!!! A night lorry lumbers up the lane Chugging its engines In full throttle… Rattling the room …. shattering the silence of night!! silence
“Kuch aisa likho, jo sab keh jaaye. Kuch aisa likho ke dil bhar aaye.” “कुछ ऐसा लिखो जो सब कह जाए। कुछ ऐसा लिखो के दिल भर आए।” Even before you ask the question ‘Why transliteration?’ we thought of giving
I call your name A thousand times I picture your face Memories hauntingly linger Of dusk, a falling veil, masking the harshness of the day The golden hue of a beautiful sunrise Lazily awakening, like the opening strokes of a
She drags her tired heels across the tainted floor Her poise held taut though her back is sore She holds on her face a cold marble stare A hard life engraved upon cheeks once so fair Her movements; once grace
An earthquake in my hearts’ kingdom Peaks and troughs,patterns were random Nurses making the fastest moves Trying to fill my cancerian grooves Blackening my last scarlet blood drop Weakening my smooth breaths’ rope I felt the cracks in closed,transparent, glass
A new twilight I see each day, Through the echos of broken mirrors, The whites are all blood stained, The lights are getting dimmer The wounds are fresh and open, The glass so clear and sharpened, As they pierce through
Up there, the mind of saints is telegnostic And thought is superluminally telepathic; Via sensorial communications anomalous Gnosis and mind are venially synonymous. All is public fare; the personal life is dead And every thought you surfed in your head
(1) Tents are crowded by windows, but missing walls and a jasmine flower. (2) A window is a border between consciousness and sub-consciousness, between Ego and its annihilation. (3) A home without a window is a blind man with no
I can’t imagine the world without you my friend My dearest snow-hued table lamp My universe is literally pitch-black without your glow I really can’t bear to let you go Thank you for being my best mate for 11 years
Marinated Sole, fragrant grains of rice A glass of golden orange with shards of ice Fresh green salads tossed with the desire That the spark of attraction is set on fire The table set with lace and flowers Sparkling crystal
I already know Me and you, together we belong But if you want to let the others know About the rise and the fall About drunk night beatings because of telephone calls Of emotions and emptiness Yes my mind is
Two flailing oiled chotis slap me out of stupor. The Goddess arches out hinged at the pole, her saucer hands clasped below mine. A hooting call answered with crystal stare from wide apart eyes that grazes my shoulder, wounding me.
I refuse to follow you. I refuse to borrow your words, your ideas, your beliefs. Limiting preachings of fragmented minds. I refuse to follow you. I refuse to adopt your meanings, interpretations, definitions. Confining parameters, conditioning. I refuse to follow
With endless poverty gleaming in their eyes, Dreams, desires and will to live; Everything has faded to get fled, In a beggar; a living dead, A zombie on the streets. With an affirmative urge in hesitation, Cohesively willing to die
I watched her as she swam across the lagoon And her smile much brighter than the moon. The clam breeze in the air whispered gently, As if a marching band played a loving tune. I was quickly invited into the
Standing at the side of the street, I witness the changes through subsequent visits. A glass tower, built some days back, stands tall, Gobbling away space, around the nearby corner shop, that avoids fall. The corner shop was built few
There is vacuum in the space Between love and hate and there is doubt in the space between truth and lie. But the plane is abnormal when You don’t trust your view. Grasp the gap, like melting lava From an
1 She is the tree green and wide abundantly dressed overflowing spreading her sleeves blesses all in her cool shade solitude teems with breezy songs I feel nearer God 2 That autumn tree from this window looks like a young
‘Twas on the eve of St Agnes’ Day, When young virgin’s minds fly astray; Stacey lay her body bare To January’s freezing air. She cast her liquid ebon eyes, Up to the boundless starry skies, Hoping to find in that
Staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the wall, at times, silence gets too loud! So i ask myself,”why me”? My inner self replies,”someone had to come to the hem of hell, To witness the truth and tell the
Gaze into the mirror at the face behind the mask and wonder if it’s really you, or don’t you dare to ask? Who can know what lies beyond the mirrors fragile face, reflections of another life; another time or place?
Full to the burst, then some more; mass tending to infinity, space shrunk to a bore. Milked by human greed, coerced by animal need; bodies cursed, souls crushed, cattle to the daily slaughter. Past imperfect, future tense, Tomorrow = yesterday;
Smoke billows and mingling with the dust rises, a solid choking mass that coats with dirty grey the shapes that lie so still. The silence, broken only by a tearful moan, uneasy on the waiting ears of those who stand
Withstand this gruelling summer, oh dear Ere we reach the end of this world. Seasoned love of us that has been shaping For twelve years long Is no more left with hope of fancied ripening And is turning fast to