Inner Demons poems bring the best collection of short and long inner demons poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great inner demons rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these inner demons poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on inner demons are here for you.
Some days, I sit and dream of being something beautiful. I dream of being the sweet flower in every person’s garden, Or the little butterfly that every child loves. I dream of being the magnificent peacock, flaunting every gorgeous feather,
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
White blood cells from demon, Pinch of salt and honey It is mixture to heal the will and Accelerate spinning electron Gods and demons at all whispers Exist in spells arcane from ever Erased time and space Satellites located
The snow fell quietly on the little hill with the softness of swan feathers, blanketing the ground around the tiny log cabin. Wispy drifts cascaded down the roof and gathered around the windowsills as if to cradle the tiny abode
Standing in this windy night under the sky in its violet light screams of the wind, its sounds blowing everything whatever it found watching the flashes of the sky thunder lightening up so high seeing this climate change violent mode
The chord struck again Without any desire, the tears did rain. Unable to find why, The angels did solace. But, the inner demons smirked hysterically, “Oh! what did you gain?”. If empathy is what you want , It is lame!
They said something was wrong with my mind Treating my “disorder” like a disease, how could they have been so blind? It was never that simple, the problem lurked deeper Never mind the blood and tears, it lay within the
This demon has seduced your inner being open the windows of your soul look before the darkness consumes your very existence draining every source of energy turning the mirror on yourself becoming lost in this unbearable reality be quick! before
Restless, I rummage, I ruminate, I rile T’is dark, the world slumbers yet here I lie Tossing, turning, the shrill clock tick-tocking Midnight amplifying a roar of whispers inside Silly, frilly girl, a voice cackles a criminal cry Breathes a
Our freedom began with the historic words At the midnight when the world sleeps India will awake we did wake to freedom It’s now the sixty ninth year of freedom But what sort of freedom is this A handful of those
On a neurotic Night I lay in bed Awaiting sleep That never Came….. I closed my eyes To establish An inertia Of dreams… An inner carousel Within me Revolves… Flashing A power point presentation of The precious Moments Spent in
In touch with my inner feelings, The emotions of loving and being loved, Spanning from admiration to adulation, Reflecting all diversity of love, With a silent glance, Eyes speaking volumes. A gentle whispering kiss, I flap my wings to soar,
A big red box, my suitcase, tucked under my bed. Is the box merely a box? No, I’m afraid. Bearing throws, bearing blows, bearing scratches, sporting patches. Generously forgiving, my wheeled travel companion, emerging to unite with me on the
She came into this world with a healthy loud cry. She was so very excited but, things looked awry. There were no happy smiles to greet her arrival., She had no clue, she had caused such upheaval. She was not
I feel the tiredness of my years, those quiet times when breath appears in melting mosaic imagery, upon the mirrors of a sea that only calls so many names, through pious sunlit tortured flames that scrape themselves away from light,
If emotions were sounds, And feelings could be heard, What would be the loudest? And would some be unheard? Huff-puff, rattle, grunts and slurs! Would we just hear random noises? Whistles, whispers, shouts and roars! Or beautifully harmonizing inner voices?
An imprisoned bird looks through the window, beauty of the stars in the dark sky. She dreams to fly with her wings wide, sensing the fresh air, rejoicing amidst her fellow birds. She dreams to be happy and free again,
Trying to follow truth his journey was nightmarish. Alchemic fusion with past and future failed – his bowl was still empty. In the inner space a largesse, free of present, becomes the pain of perfection! Now what to do next?
People are celebration friendly Celebrate when life shortens too Dancing, swinging and singing Saying happy birthday to you. People are celebration friendly Celebrate at the end of each year Romping, waltzing and caroling Wishing you happy new year. People know
Please write this on my gravestone, Spring, March, flowers of ’82, You too must remember me, Unrivalled, but unrivalled I could not be, Tunes untuned to hear it gash, Water rips my inner soul instead, Silence too shouts deep within,
How wonderfully great it is to be human, This phenomenal thinking godlike specie, With the potential to explore the universe Yet with intentions of being mostly sleazy. Living in a garden of land, water, and sky, A living vessel so
He said it was not easy, Not that easy, writing poetry. But I didn’t think so. (Yeah! I thought of it though.) I sent him my blueprint, He laughed and laughed… It’s not that easy, you see Your’s all wilderness.
Don’t look deep into my eyes, who knows what you find inside? Is it the dreams that I lovingly hide, or are some demons residing inside. Am too afraid to let you know, Even too scared to make the show.
A cold, lifeless blade was pressed against chilly, tender flesh Slowly, she presses it down, feeling the pressure on her limb Then, there is a sudden relief as the crimson rivers and the inner trash Comes tumbling down, red raindrops
Sitting in a cushioned chair in his living room, absurdly comfortable, while he reads Georg Trakl’s late poems, the old man, himself a poet, drifts into a shallow sleep. He is alone in that place of Being, where desire and
”You live in a queer world of dreams, Mr. Ahmed Turning odd imaginations to mere fancy words Bejeweled by baffling metaphors and similes That one mightn’t get the hang of with ease Why don’t you eschew the pesky rhyme rule,
Life….This is not a fairy tale that we all dream of, fantasize or speculate it to be. Nobody promises us that, not even God. Life is an amalgamation, of those really fantastic, fanciful, sometimes phenomenal, remarkably awesome days and of
We have many levels of beautiful Some are clear and visible, We may touch an adorableness, Skins depth though questionable of beauty. Imagine all the colours see the silhouette, Lustrous smooth and adorable, Blush fullness of the lips, Yet still
Didn’t realize when the heart swelled, a tear rolled down, then, another…. …and so on……….. What a charming guy with blue twinkling eyes! Santa spreading laughter and cheer; giving away endless memories and smiles! Immense pain wears the garb of
What is left to come across? everything seems to be lying open fatefully exposed before i could reach. Potbellied realities were reluctant to change they seemed to retire with confusions of shadows and full stops. There seems to be so
In some secluded corners of my heart, the blood turns cold, I feel a chill, in this warmed breeze, I am turning cold, lifeless, no emotions I’m left with, The voices I hear are just cracked up sound. In the
Bloodshed, bloodshed everywhere Mere violence in the air Clouds of obscurity strewn about The sky of fateful memories. A terrible terror crammed In the inner core of the heart There’s no room for mercy now Retort hatred with hatred And
An ode to Bhimsen Joshi You sing to the earth, it’s minerals, it’s metals, it’s pure stones. You sing to the earth, it’s sand, the yellow sand, the red sand, it’s rivers of sorrow, the waves, the waves that no
Have you ever felt like you’re the only one left? Like all the emotionless souls here have turned their backs Given you the cold shoulder, leaving you for death Being gradually swallowed up by this chaotic mess Have you ever
There’s a mask that everyone wears To shield who they really are inside To hide ugly scars and bury fear So none will know of his inner strife There was a nervous man He had a violently palpitating heart It
It was a photograph, as old as Their marriage, of both of them. His face radiating her fulsome bliss, Now eroded, tarnished and frayed At the edges, slowly, yet surely. Trying to tear him out of mind, She turned over
So I’m a couple months clean. Is this all it really means? Suffocating with these urges. Seeing things I’ve never seen. People start to care. Some just like to stare. I used to be invisible. Thought it wasn’t fair. “Hey,
I do feel the pain of letting go, stretching, pulling, dragging me across the floor, when I stop resisting, its like a flow pain seems less, so I let myself go with the flow, release all the tension stored, I
I am a Traveler, a Wanderer as a Soul “Life” – a great journey I am gonna discover and explore. Routes are dicey, paths are hardly smooth and are always wild, Every corner of the road holds a New unexpected
Who is the shepherd of fate? Nobody knows the answer to date A rhetorical question that provokes hate Seven out of eight Feel we are the masters of our own fate They say we control our mates They say we
With a sense of certainty, He looked around, To No one but to himself, as she waited for his response, he said, “Your mind is a prison.” For him, it was the best. It was much better than roaming around