Haddon poems bring the best collection of short and long haddon poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great haddon rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these haddon poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on haddon are here for you.
She sits alone within the hall Close to the fire keeping her warm Silken dress worn threadbare Watching fire sprites dance and flare. Dreaming of someone in her heart Lonlieness pierces like a dart Within candle light glow Her tears
I reminisce Easter at our home was as important as Christmas. Mom surrounded our small apartment with the song, “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” I waited on the Easter Bunny as much as I did Santa but I would wake up
Built to perfection, designed for comfort Polished warm brown, with cushions floral.. Often, admired a while, by those on road I waited a keen eye, to take me home… And then came in, a dainty inquiring lady Ah, but look
Paddy fields as far as the eyes can see Stretches of green touching the horizon Farmers in straw hats busy as bees And buffaloes, such loyal workers at every turn Cycling into the breeze, along a well-worn path Greeting ‘How
Love carries a natural gust. Always fulfils souls’ thirst. Sees nothing but completion, Brings forth, that is hidden. Oh! It does, it does… Love knows no limits. It exists beyond infinite. It obeys no rules. It never makes one a
Sore with discontent, Oblivion beckons, Fade out or live long- Perhaps not an option. Choices are illusions, Life a big lie, Return to innocence- Most desired. Loath and anguish, No logic to talk about, Haze of negativity- Call it depression.
Marble pillars grace castle throne rooms Marbled veins like blood stopped abruptly Pillars with natural lines Not intaglio So elegant, so delicate Like a dahlia But so strong So steady Perhaps the gods created marble To look so effortless, but
This is a post dedicated to the crazy people who were and who are out there. Life shows new things every day, Some are sad, Some happy. Some are interesting, Some dull. Some make us cry, Some make us laugh.
Climbing trees, And the warm summer breeze. Watching bugs on the ground creep, While everyone’s asleep. Spicy village chicken curry, Living each moment without a worry, And watching ants scurry. The fragrance of fresh blooms, The clouds closing in before
I too wanna live… I’m tired of eyes that look but don’t see They pierce remembering the undressed me Numerous stares taunt my erased purity But they don’t see the soul of me. A painful experience I’ve locked up inside
The green leaves of weeping willow,on the lawns, Blocking my sky view, The natural leaves’ curtains covering my bed room windows. But at least I can watch beautiful birds and butterflies Hopping and chirping on trees branches. A beautiful squirrel
A crooked slanting moon shifts the eye comes under the chaste tree and washes the tainted victory. Wolves start howling at the tomb of unknown martyr, man-eaters recoil on the sugar island and talk about destinies, A mourning crowd walks
An insider was asking: this was a very troubling question. Why a culture becomes sick, burns the book, and beheads a god? Forgive my loincloth. This century was becoming very hot till the nose bleeds and fills the cauldron of
Time sets upon the arcane taboos you wear the unknown fear like cowries around your neck, a bulletproof jacket did not work, the fish in the brain was the religion. Whom do you trust now in the caveful of seekers?
There’s always something to say And we should come to GOD and pray, Whether we just cry, Or talk about hurting inside, We should always come to him and try. Just like the stars are perfectly placed Also is his
Ascent of mankind. From the deep forest of Europe, to the Serengeti in Africa. Man evolved. From the great cities of Europe through the deep cultures of Asia. Good vs Evil. Rocket fuel propelling things along. One without the other
(Dedicated to my niece, Zeina…) When you are eighteen Just add the two numbers And be nine again This ancient tree is evergreen… When you are eighteen Weave the threads of friendship Play the cords of worship Sing a song
At the END OF THIS AUTUMN, I am standing Under a barren tree, bleak and exposed TO weather with shedding leaves, There rests a house away from the barn, Decorated with vivid colours of rainbow And maintained by careful hearts
This is it, I want to say. An acid rain falling each evening and you, reading a poem surrounded by flame – attendants. Nothing moves farther than activism. Conversation centers around the flares on the surface of an orange sun,
On one cloudy afternoon, the rumbling thunder along with the flashes of lightening, piercing cracked walls of a house in burning, cows died and fried, a school-girl fainted and the earth is washed out by heavy downpour.. A chubby charming
Photograph by “Alan Mackenzie” He screamed helplessness and fear, Anger arising in a depth of raw emotion, His exasperating anxiety and despair, This cruel mental decay of Alzheimer’s. Acceptance hung in the desperate air, Petulance always only a breath away,
MEMORIES ….. I love your sweet voice , Handling your craziness is my choice . Playing games all day long , and all those stupid questions from nowhere they belong. Sharing every joy or pain , Partners in crime ,
People never looked beneath the veil Thus, they never know what exactly that means Rumors say chemo cracks one’s nails Then one will vomit all day His face tinted a sickly green They imagine monstrous machines billowing black smoke Churning
A mob rapes a moon under the blue sky. Then parades her half-naked body on the streets of clouds. Arousal of anger devours the mate in a nocturnal rendezvous with a sea horse; cuts off the head to shake out
From the ages past, the Swamp in the Niger Delta was inhabited by people who live on the proceed from the murky Swamp Then in a stroke of Nature’s benevolence, the murky Swamp started oozing out the wealth and riches
It’s winter now. A sea of flaking whites with Few Mahonias and Jacquelines blooming bright Just the way you’d loved them. Of flowers, now I’d rather you be a wreath on my bosom Than a lonely rose on the lapel.
A world of glorified crooks and vilified saints. He is an aspiring politician, while he is the selfless Samaritan. He embraces deceit, while he toils in virtue. He amasses wealth, while he mourns over strangers death. He plots ploy through
Time goes by. As slowly as a grain of sand. Excruciatingly so, as I lie Awaiting you to understand. The colours filling the horizon, Are not just pretty sights. To some they are, The path of dream lights. To some
A storm cracks it’s thunder at me I look out to the faded death of night I’ve made myself a scrapbook of memories First is the woman, in dim gravure She throws her clothes at strangers Her life is loneliness,
Has anyone told you? You make them smile? A little jesting And a crappy day becomes worthwhile… Has anyone told you? Your hugs are like glue They stick back the pieces Broken into two… Have you ever been told? The
My last hour, my brightest day; My last walk with the living, in my coffin of regret. Ah, joyous Delirium; weep for me not, for once I loved my arrogance of life, my wine of alloyed memories; now spilled upon
Here are some things that make me smile My lip corners upturn when these come into mind Amazing as the rainbow stained glass tiles And also simple as a little bird’s first flight Try to think of a refreshing, blazing
It was a thorn in flesh before our fires met in midstream, the waterplant had become untouchable. I saw you lying behind a thin veil, like a prophet, in timeless agony. The moon had left a wreath for a failed