Instinct poems bring the best collection of short and long instinct poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great instinct rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these instinct poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on instinct are here for you.
I had a chance meeting with a quiet fellow No, we did not meet Didn’t even share a breath Unsure if it was male, female or hermaphrodite Still it was unlooked for Rising in a predawn hour, ready for the
Sixth sense, a magical phenomena, a super natural phenomena, a gift bestowed upon some people by the Supreme Lord. Each and everyone has got sixth sense; Only those who are spiritually connected to God, Experience the direct perception of truth.
life without literature, is like life without meaning, like a jellyfish with no sting, like a lion that can’t roar, like a frog that can’t leap, like a wolf without instinct, like a snake without venom, like a falcon without
Love is a powerful thirst, The basic chemistry, Promoting feelings Of a survival instinct. It has many guises, With emotional variations, Intimacy of passion, In a deep bond. Often one-sided commitment, Always arriving unbidden, Without passion, a mere dedication, That
There are three kinds of love, Love that tests you, Love that loves you, Love that doesn’t love you back. The love that tests you, doesn’t conquer, it leads you, to the unfathomable galaxies, most of them are imaginary, where
A miserable hospital scene, with shouts and painful sobs, With fractures, wounds and injuries of various calamities, And my friend, one among them, cancerous, with no hope, Not weeping, but talking and laughing, as he was, years back, In our
Atlantic City, not a place but the fragment Of a memory that lights up bright and garish In the starless night when day is done When ragged dreams arise from murky beds Beneath the waves washing up like seaweed On
Dwelling above Lake Louise is a young Alpha mountain goat who got run out of his pack for trying to take control away from the senior Alpha mountain goat. Young Alpha mountain goat is a feisty and shaggy beast. Fearless!
Waiting under the opaque moon a primeval instinct takes over you and you start arriving. A black bone renders the ash on your forehead and you complete the circle – reaching childhood; you start climbing the ladder, for instantaneous release.
These sleazy intentions seem to kill more than those so-called “reported” serial orgasms. To say, -off the record- that you give me both… feels very disturbingly corrupt yet thats not why you see me blushing. can this burning betrayal flesh
A starfish was in my glass. You blame the moon of brutality while moondust had misled the ocean. Darkhole was ejecting the stars. An animal instinct sparts the bullet like supernova. Black dwarf crop up around the light house for
As the ink flows and the heart glows, While your words rejoice in an enormous light, How do you come up with another set of questions? And still have a peaceful plight.. Trust your instinct within, Feed your fire, fuel
A felled tear reflects the rainbow. I wait for the night. Moon had promised an audience. Yes, I will sit beside the moon, will tell the woes of earth, uncomplaining: the heat, the dust, the life needles and expressionless faces
That tribal instinct sits in the denial. Words fly in fog carrying absurd meanings. I was ready for the impeachment. Like a pinned butterfly you lived several times, repeating a dialogue on a mindless thought. From nothing to nothingness, you
The day I realised that I’m just like everyone else. Clarity. I spent all my time thinking that I was different, unusual. [Apparently] I thought differently to everyone else. [I] Wanted, needed different things. Craved isolation. Solitude. Peace. Contentment. Simplicity
There is a certain feeling that arrives soon as the thought approaches. A sort of dream like feeling that comes to take over what ever mood, What ever presence that is shallowly felt. In truth it’s the best part of
Caught in state perplexity and direction being sought Quandaries are encrypted with resolves distraught Let core instinct lead on any results don’t expect Oppress visible emotions sane logic try not dissect It may seem on contrary but winds get to
It’s 9:00 on a Saturday, I’m at my PC, wasting my life, Surrounded by empty snack packets, And by the door is an empty pizza box. Life couldn’t be better. Bzzz… A noise. Punctuating my silence, my fixation with my
It is autumn grapes are bleeding. The orange color seeps into your eyes. Will you shut the green lids? You, start reading backward. Atavistic instinct to dig up the severed hands? Your house, died in the flower bed. Seeds were
Humans are animals, same as the rest. We sprung up from the same womb as all animals do. What makes us different is what’s in our heads? We think, we plan, we build, we progress. Human minds have grown to
A tribal instinct stops the nemesis: Spraying the blood-soaked, small foot prints on my chest; unlocking, I accept myself. Why contained anger of awesome ache over the periphery? Through the atrophied, black limbs – an elite infusion of trespassing knowledge?
In my reverie I live And reality is only a reflection In the mirror in my backyard Redemption is what I seek today Cos’ yesterday was drenched in sins Memories keep me awake all night, A walk through woods and
I lay in bed Listening to the hammering rain Pit pat pit pat Beating on the window pane I gaze at these racing drops Hitting a different note each fall Spreading the fragrance in the air Of their rendezvous with
Rain, wet and unrelenting Sun, so hot and dazzling Dreams of misty, cool rain And rides in an air-conditioned train Skylines of harsh, cold concrete Valleys of lush, green meadows Thunderstorms over a thrashing sea Beaches of soft, golden sand
Nineteen is leaving it is a blue thing a toxic sea that for nearly a year Rising in me now drips from fingere tips into buckets morning buckets dinner buckets buckets at the bedside buckets I have too much pride
A useless space between the sentences, ghastly story does not end in black and white. Again the heart cries. I keep on knocking on the doors and then return to blackness. Sometimes people become insects. Cockroaches, ants and spiders, weaving
Those leaves weren’t few that shed away But down alive, not much could stay Few were tramped, few had dried It isn’t, that they never tried Few were blown, few were crushed At nights they lived, as roads were hushed
How quickly this dark hour has descended. I find myself cornered in this room with death. Visitors come and go in somber procession. I see them as if from a great distance. When finally alone with you…. probably for the
Knowledge Is Power so listen to your intuition, it is the voices of the Angels so make yourself familiar with them, they hold the key to your destiny and the light within, to deny them is to deny yourself great
Broken and battered here I lie, Seeking freedom from the unseen cuffs, Tranquilizers and sedatives heal me no more, Numbness is what my heart longs for, Numbness is what my heart longs for. Travelling through this barren lands, Seems ages
Radio blares incoherent songs people speak excitedly about music billboards advertise wares there are outlets everywhere the lights are bright and night still young and the road never ends… There is a girl in silhouette a woman with torn
From the lakes in New Hampshire to the sand dunes of Cape Cod. From the mountains of Vermont to the seaports of Rhode Island. From the rocky seacoast of Maine to the Gold Coast of Connecticut. Winters of snow and
When pinch of godly emotions diluted Into optical fusion of matted commotions And the whole concealed constellation Beguiled its proclaim in dismal dismay, Gurgling upsurges fused with a shy smile Amidst the mute chambers of heavy heads. Nothing like bleak