Ice-cream poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of ice-cream poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on ice-cream are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Sunday, the ‘Holy Day’, declared by the ‘Old Testament’ After the hard work of the universal creation, for six days, Continuously from Monday to Saturday, fulfilling everything, From a ray of light, sea, sky, earth and all living and nonliving
We found the kid outside of McCleary walking in a daysuit like some land owner off some nineteenth-century hacienda he got in the car stinking of moss and unwashed armpits there were at least two kinds of fluff in his
Duke of the East, O righteous Khalīfah! Thou reign with the divine inspiration. Thou art a holy leader, As the Book of the Prophet states. Successor of the decent Muḥammad. “Blessed are thy deeds,” Thy loyal subjects pray to the
Shall we go like innocents with heavy breathing in the pool of blood to find the inner-connectivity of a boldly beautiful death? In the open pit of an ancient gold mine? There was a loss of hidden dance, in the
A mad resurgence of fake locks paralyzes the arched doors of the hidden walls, where the roses squirm under the false kisses of a red moon; they came again to police the blinds. The mother digs up the charred body
My gypsy soul, my gypsy soul, oh we are on the move once more. To hidden valleys and secret places, to hear the ocean’s almighty roar. I long gave up in denying the yearning of opening my wings to soar.
Its different how the sky is blue, the layman never had a clue. How beautifully the flowers bloom, and the bright setting sun calls for the day’s doom. Little children, smiles innocent, who knew what actually they meant.. Until one
We all have our personal demons; she mumbled, as he hugged her and looked over her shoulder, at the abysmal state of their lives. When will I see yours he asked, anxiously. Just then she let loose the screaming choirs
My love sent me a song so soft and sweet, Like melody that lulls babies to sleep, Hinting of angels in their dreams to meet, Assured in cradle of a mother’s keep; Like breeze that wafts, each note would float
A photographer captures a mystery, Of an unheard allegory, One that is deep and subaqueous, has memories engraved and precious. He collects beautiful images, reflecting candid moments & stages, unfolding a legendary lineage, captivating one’s mind’s envisage! It is at
felt faint inside from the heat of the day I fell down on my knees to pray thought of those memories from a time ago Christmas was spent under the mistletoe hugs & kisses with everything new Pretty pictures pretty
Duis went outside and changed. And then. Who can still sit funny. However, he wishes to the hotel, the laugh of the gate of life, words of condolence, novels. I do not have football. There is no rent-a-car like a
One day it will all make sense. The sun, the trees, And the morning breeze on a long summer day. Every single thought running through your head and all the words left unsaid will unravel. Regrets will fade away, Decisions
Images about me- still and motion- she keeps in her mind, thoughts and feelings about me, she creates a permanent folder for. Every minute of her life she ruminates on me, near or afar, her GPS keeps navigating toward my
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!
Sycophantic whores chasing running scores, stagnant sweat streams from unwashed pores. Satan’s dark sisters tearing through her skin reaching raging demons screaming from within. The gaunt gothic mask upon her fragile face conceals the flaking paint of a dull faded
The pain still looms you have drifted away like clouds in vast sky still I can feel your touch You are near to me still so far like a butterfly carried in strong winds memories etched in my heart cannot
You’re my personal brand of cocaine, surely you should suppress the suffering and numb the pain. My rose petal lips are engulfed in your kiss of death. I worship at your feet, when I have you, who really needs meth?
Who Are they? Wonders, or walking living machines? They sleep in a cradle, fed on their mothering arms Growing up desensitised with fictitious joy There they open their arms and glide. Their eyes gaze on the synthetic flashy lights Where
Well and they came by sea in the 17th century. They had the highest of hopes as they did come ashore the wild woodlands. And setting up housekeeping they were in the best of spirits in the beginning. But in
Within quadrants.. within transects… they divided the sky, they combed cirrus clouds, squeezed ripe cumulus dry. Within zones… within layers… they divided the sea, they netted frail salps, calculated densities in degrees. Within hypothesis within theories they divided the stars,
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
Lost delights of mine, leave me not in unknown ways And all of our dandled days in my fortune’s hand Winder cold wails the wrong of death delays When cold wind blows into my desert sands She has turned within
Sometimes I sweat, thinking of my fortune My melancholy is subversive and my melody boring With a firm hope, I wait for the time opportune, With the help of poetry and love, I’ll do my soul’s cleaning. The river is
Somewhere between being expressive and fictitious I got lost. Never did it cross my mind such drama for nuance, Maybe am not that adroit; but lately you’ve been so vexatious, Delving into an endless rest- for a tinge of flattery
It was just News flash, nothing to be scared about. They were just News flash from a distant land; from far away land where the inhabitants were, well, that is if they were assumed as people; were thought to feel
Besieged by dreams that never end Or rebel, because they were forgotten, The despair takes me under her wing. Everything I learned until evening Becomes the seed of the regret that it’s in vain, That I should know it even