Individuality poems bring the best collection of short and long individuality poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great individuality rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these individuality poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on individuality are here for you.
Oh woman! Oh mother Abused beaten thrashed facing all torture You are not less than mother nature She gets disfigured scarred by her own Yet once in a while out comes her fury You behind that brave smiling mask From
Fight me,here I stand, In your costly possessed land, Which you incurred by fate, But I incurred by hard faith. You were gifted the golden throne, But I was gifted your half eaten bone, Still I stand in your possessed
‘GANDHISM’ – an eternal truth of divinity, Found in all human individuality ! Struggle is to ‘Experiment’ & find in yourselves, It is not hiding anywhere else ! Empathy for the last one, Is the ‘talisman’ for the ‘Sarva-jan’ !
I wonder how many poets died with voices unheard How many minds were robbed from the herd The amount of people with beautiful science in their mind Forced to neglect, to go through everyday’s struggle and grind Why must a
The girl is an ultra-modern scholar, Belongs with an upper-middle class family. Looking very nice, smart, gets angry suddenly. She reads M.A in English at Presidency University. She is assimilating the ideas of Shakespeare, Shelley, Keats, Neruda, Byron… Fluently speaks
We, You and I, Are individuals. As individuals, Regardless of how steadfastly We assert individuality, We’ll either blend in Or be drowned in a sea of Excessively passionate individuals; Each uniquely manufactured to personify Their respective soul. We, You and
Modern calculations Life complications Are not real Illusions, no facts There is no deal Nature wisely reacts. Created equal Within a cycle Inferior, no one is Superiority is a fake mental buzz Sharing, freedom and respect Of individuality is my
Delhi the mighty city, I love to hate, has withstood time and is steeped in history. With its harsh climate and its harsh reality it doesn’t give excuses, doesn’t sugar coat its being. With pride it says i have it
A songbird sings a melancholy song Deep within a forest, dense. No one could hear it, No one around and hence, The songbird he wondered, What he was doing wrong, Should he sing it louder? Should he change the song?
Oh rose, in which sweetness evolve my dreams, Aspiring boldly, praying to find ways, To live ideals, which a heart esteems, Which might last longer than expected days; So let the thorns by your charms be out-shined, Your bony stems
between unequals to and fro beastly joy of horror you want to press the trigger, timebomb, your laughter, and sneaky mind restless syndrome of legs you cannot stand on tiptoes to review the fall from the clouds the moon overshot
Two lovers by the ragged strand once trod the sooty sand; slender maid with raven hair, fisher boy of bronze; the dazzling sun a gold doubloon, the moon a silver coin. From rocks, ink-black as witches’ cats, they saw the
I had always wondered If fiction is wrought Only in books and on celluloid. I know now, that fiction is when one by one the layers are pulled off. and the shadows that remain Is fiction. So when the boundary
They were ready to suck the crowd. The child was pushed into lentil soup, boiling, to appease the rain god. Shining masks, the celebration starts; surging a myth, crown of hawthorn, hallucinating dance. The people lick their fingers, feast for
Drop by drop your blood is darkning Are you afraid what else is happening? Ever noticed the sun at the time of rising? Its the way satrs sacrifice their lightening Have you ever seen the dead lips smiling? Where maturity
I can never betray you for sure, Neither can leave you this way, For you are the one who taught me everything And nothing what I’m today. Everyone believes praying is a must, But I say that’s just a trust.
There was a strange carnality in flowing robes, a waiver penetrates in incorporeal ellipse. I must speak of him in his absence combating for the actuality. Knowing lust manifolds, yields a prayer, primrose opens the eyes. The knowledge liberating –
Anticipation hung in the air, The crowd chanting his name, Ding ding….. Fists flying, punches pounding, Sweat dripping, feet dancing. Nervous sensations rising, Knotting tighter with an adrenaline cocktail, Ding ding…. Tension grows like lightening strikes, Heads duck,arms jabbing with
Jesus watches over us Jesus is watching to protect The lost and the wandering sinner Those who cry out to our Savior Believing Jesus is with us forever Jesus, friend of the weary and Those wandering, lost in this world
World of danger … as I think.. Think of the deep bluish lake rich in water that seldom quenches the thirst of the masses who can never dream of drinking water to the brim of their mouths for the liquid
When hope returns, will you be in alternative mind? Like a praying mantis brooding for a prey in a bowl of momentum while I have a sense of alienation collecting a cloud of Memories ripping open the gates of tears
When given a deep thought a certain realization hovered over my head. …truly everything happens for a reason, a reason that sometimes may be an unknown illusion, sometimes the things we curse and at times something that overwhelms us to
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
Our river wasn’t a clean river, a mountain stream, a babbling brook, or a silver girl. It was a filthy river, a city river, forsaken, neglected. Long gone, the glory days, when it was thick with trout and where, according
Sit next to me Pawpaw A small voice commands. Read to me Pawpaw. Read it again Pawpaw, A small voice commands. Do not skip a word. Chase me Pawpaw, A small voice commands. Lord, I’m tired. Snack time Pawpaw A