Hormone poems bring the best collection of short and long hormone poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great hormone rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these hormone poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on hormone are here for you.
When I was a young man I chased them by the score. They were fast, young and lean. Conquest was my aim, seduction was the game. Procreation, I was playing with biology’s rules. I cared very little about much more.
O you men, The monsters, You were sent for protection, For God’s beautiful creation, You were sent to safeguard, The chastity and honour, You were sent to love, The beauty and perfection, Of Eves’ daughter, But, The adrenaline which provided
This is a delicate porcelain, but, she was broken… Love Crime— The Humanity Prejudice（Encounter In Masquerade） Split emotion, rupture thoughts, Tragic is melted in prejudice, Disguisers of Beast in human form, as cruel as ice, Mercy is tearing, mask is
The heart hibernates In that pain Freezing the emotions Going numb timeless The warm waves Those touch and go Melting it a little One at a time Then a qualm lingers After the frozen heart And the melting emotions Drop
Let’s look together, in the tight, dark corners. Look in the tough, raw twilight– Once, I thought I found a bed, under a dome of stars. I tried to sleep. The world is always fresh. Everyone is always looking for
That evening was unlike any other evening This evening is similar to that evening What was so dear to me that evening? The same is dear to me this evening Her soul and body spiraled in my arms that evening
The stadium goes dark and a hush falls- you can hear a pin drop; The sounds of pins dropping, Maybe it’s the patter of raindrops Or is it running feet- Oh, the anticipation! It’s a drumroll for the artist, As
The bushes, I remember, have been there in the tales of my love! The breath, the tears, and the aura of virgin forest – The art, the sighs, the darkness, the motorcycle, the roads, the unending journeys, have been there!
Let’s fall in love Once again, This time, somehow Without the loss and The pain. Let’s meet up as strangers In some strange land, Perhaps as two lost, lonely travellers, and We could just stand On a cross-road Facing each
Dawn left bare bones Gave her his cruel temper, he, whom no one had ever loved Virgin’s blood shed not for pleasure but for body senses lust Flare of fire, modern world burnt Fugitives from Orion hide on Milky Way
That was an incredible rainy evening on the top of rock hills surrounded by ancient caves blue skies were wrapped by the dark clouds and snow peaks smilingly greeted the first snow fall in the love valley rain drops falling
This is a story of growing up in beige HDB flats High-rise homes that dot the lavender sunset Of void-deck soccer, of sizzling kachang putehs And of the kids in khaki shorts and white, loose singlets As their jubilant laughter
Becalmed, all the world’s a pond everything set to stagnate and stink flesh cooks slowly at the equator sours like a mild temperament more than shade or food the horizon is become a god delivering, withholding shadows hide beneath a
Or, at least that’s what you might think. Judgement hurts in too many ways to count. I stand in the local thrift market looking for trinkets and such with my father. He came here to look for vintage picture frames
Driving green fire out of melodies. It was not make-believe not mannerism but smell of autopsy. A pseudo-elegy starts at burial site. Frugality of dust first decides to go to god and then die. Race, religion, tribe and their foot-soldiers
As he slowly floated to the sky The stars spelled out his name His heart, his soul all were loved But now burned with a wicked flame His hand slipped away from mine The curved, crocked and the most looked
Breathes there my love, lovely as nymph of sea, Her cheeks rosy as skies of Summer morn, While sunsets glow as long as dusk would stay, She would radiate, long after stars are born; When nights are overcast, devoid of
Emotions are what fuel us What fill us to our core. They are the defining elements in our deepest thoughts. That fist you slammed against a wall? Anger. The tears you cried over a heartbreak? Sadness, pain. The curses you
« I shall remember while the light lasts And in the darkness I shall not forget » [“Non-Catholic” Cemetery, Rome: headstone 2515] Unable to Enlighten the twilight between consciousness And unconsciousness She leaves aside the despair Of those attending -Just
I went for dinner; she came on a date… Waited for her until a quarter past eight… She walked in, looking like a million dollar, Anyone else would’ve known, but I’m no scholar… She ordered for some strawberry and wine,
When the broken records play The grooves of profound agony, they may Watch the peace they built The piece squelched to silt. When forgotten verses cried out all the pain And the tears saw the fort fell apart To the
Freedom, a word you can truly embrace, a lot don’t have freedom and wish they could have a taste. Everyone wants freedom, and want it with a passion, while freedom can come in every shape, form and fashion. Like the
Dear You, It’s been a long time since we spoke, I’m tallying the days since you’ve gone, Leaving me alone in this one-windowed skyscraper. The pages are blank. The ink has dried. So here I am, thinking out loud, Hoping
The day bleeds slowly, blots across the blackening sky, red drips into the nothingness, darkness overpowers the light; I fly back to my lonely nest, hunted by the crescent moon, only the stars offer me sight, I long to be
prisoner of retribution, he was buried under a salt lake, elusive, his crotch, not far from stings of wasps, the blood spills, he would wonder how to catch the truth in black river, wrapped in imperforated causes, leaking with curses,
“HMS Trincomalee, a British Corvette, sixth rate warship of 28 guns, Five hundred gross tons was she. The King’s Pressman am I, handling a pressgang of five, My firm service of country and King. Her ships bell marking time; bosun
He is an old man now, no longer tall, Shoulders hang, stoop low, as does his head. Hair is sparse, hardly covers his scalp, Teeth are worn, loose, and faintly yellow. Legs once firm and straight, now bowed and shaky.
In the tropical section of the Earth. There stays a period, Brimful of sufferings and pain. That tends to seek, Any and all drop of blood . Then the time has chosen a turn, And brought in a moderate silence,
“Sometimes your worst self is your best self The moonlight divides the shadows. The essence of a black rose. Butterflies flutter by through the air. Unaware they are there without a care. I grab thee adorable like a snuggle bear.
sky soon to be scarred with unknown. inner compass points daybreak so board at dusk exit lane takes you away from falling darkness. feasting on past sleeping dogs lie no longer now awake they gnaw on bones of not-dared. at
I cannot bare to see it now! It’s symbol so forlorn. The Passion we so fondly show To place your crown of thorn! And yet, it harbours life, in droves; For all things come from you! This delicate, sense filled,