January poems bring the best collection of short and long january poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great january rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these january poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on january are here for you.
This day is here again, Its the same one as before… Yet completely different in itself, By just a few contradicting things… Feelings had bloomed, After a long unending winter.. I yearned for a companion, And found you along the
There once was a glowworm Who’s tail would glow quite bright You could always see him dancing On a warm summer night When he wasn’t dancing And needed to rest He’d turn off his taillight With a switch under his
Have you ever heard the tale about the hedgehog with no spikes, such a sweet little boy who all the other’s didn’t like? A case of alopecia, there was nothing they could do, such a sad little hedgehog who cried
It was where I learned to read, and write, and count; I counted the days. It was where I realised carrying a cello was harder than playing it. It was where I engraved my name on the playground wall, beneath
To slip into the darkness and feel its cold embrace as the chill night caresses the colour from your pallid, tear-stained face. Inhale the icy air as you drift and feel it tenderly beseeching, its icy tendrils reaching deep into
Keep my journal short. Just review January through March. Life is a dig, deep snow on my sorrow. Bare bones of naked sparrows, beneath my balcony, lie lifeless. The few survivors huddle in bushes. Gone, gone is kitchen bowl that
War planes high, the sky full of rains, a man cries of death, though not because of drugs like meth, Egypt seeking retribution, for the cruelly cinematic execution, for 21 men have gone down under, amid the crying and the
You’ll often see them running and chasing across the plains, a rabbit skipping and laughing at an eagle, in great pains. But why’s the eagle running, surely he can fly? Sadly he’s afraid of heights and frightened he may die.
Sundown on a January Sunday a blast from the past caught me by surprise although we have been estranged someone could of told me you died, now I am in mourning regretting that we never got to reconcile so but
Introduction: Aldo Leopold (January 11, 1887 -April 21, 1948) was an American author, scientist, ecologist, forester, environmentalist, and conservationist. In the 1920-1930 eras, he moved to the Baraboo, Wisconsin area. The grey wolf was viewed as a predator, to be
Does anyone else lie awake at night, Silently putting the world to rights, Wondering if they should get out of bed, Or keep on trying to sleep instead. It’s December and I seem to think it’s funny, To think about
Once upon a lonesome January night love called at my door with a valentine. Blinded with ecstasy I gave up liberty- while on duty nesting for my brood. And so this is how I missed all the clues! One day
This life is not enough to understand a girl friend what a thing she is! No dictionary has enough words to say about a real girl friend whatever she is. Sometimes we think the girlfriend is just like the summer.
Quixotic life brings wonderful thinking In such wee hour of foggy winter night Sitting on the spacious balcony with rural setting Feeling the favour of native care. With drowsy eyes. It is not uncommon in recent Thou has started to
THREE POEMS 1 NEW YEAR The dates on calendar question all my undone actions and memories that haunt or fade in nightly nakedness stumbling toward the next day’s sun without celebration at 65 January jeers my degenerating sex a still
After my final curtain call when the stage lights dim, what will life hold to see, at the end of my show when the ink has dried, what will become of me? Clutching crumbling pen between trembling fingers of a
26th January is our Republic Day, India’s adoption of the democratic way. India founded its own constitution, Concluding its great revolution. Its a day of great victory, Narrating our grand history. Its the symbol of our unity, Despite the spectrum
“stay away” the voices screamed, but my heart beat in denial, everything i was taught i remembered to forgot he’s going to give you more pain this your love is insane i couldn’t let him go you want to know
On the train that rides alone along this track of skin and bone, find locations to us unknown – the Ghost Train comes. Sitting, staring, watching paths of lives unfolding, to me just laughs – the Ghost Train comes. Darker
Gifting his ‘ Wings of Fire ‘ to the gen. next The angel has taken flight to regions unknown . Standing tall in the midst of admiring youths Kindling their minds with the light of knowledge Inspiring them to dream
Eyes I much miss in mine, Where are you now? Are you mine-like, teared in brine Brimming the brow? In this rain-sloshed afternoon, With poetry I trace My broken heart upon your face, Far-off Apogee Moon! Teach, my sky-shy poet-protégée,
On my path to age gracefully, I realize, I’m captive to impulses, My greed triggers expectations, My ambitions drag me by head, I sense my pursuit for perfection sweeping off my honest efforts.. I fumble as an open book in
I like watching those tiny tots at the beach. It’s kind of listening to the ballads. Like the slow build up when someone strums up, They come, holding on to the li’l finger of Parents or rather these days Mostly,
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?
You think that I don’t love you, Well that makes my heart so very sad My love for you if measured, Could go round the universe and distant galaxies time and time again, My love for you could fill every
Bones knit, and stretched, and grew, and tendons tightened to the point of breaking, but, for all the pain, I never seemed to grow, much. My father whet his hands with olive oil, from an old bottle, corked with cotton
Let’s not go, let’s not reach anywhere. The toenails have started digging in the earth, to make peace with the distress response of the bruised hunger for transactional surrender. And the surrogate mother will abandon the child for the father
Will you tell me what it was the unknown of the known? When you step into the eyes of stangers you start talking without uttering a single word. Give me back the body, of dark pink matter to understand the