Killings poems bring the best collection of short and long killings poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great killings rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these killings poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on killings are here for you.
Explosions rocked Manchester Arena after finale of Ariana Grande concert where just moment before avid fans of this idol did cavort and flirt shattering poignant moments, when one than another attendant did amidst helter skelter yell and blurt now treasured
An attack with hatred and ferocity killed many people, how disdainful blind eyes with no sign of fraternity killed outright teenagers, how painful Parents who lost their children shed tears of blood in mournful an act against the faith of
Moon-scented I walk in dark to put me back in place, unwithered, opening the inner casket for a glow. Pleading not guilty after killings in bed, of affectionate kill of lies, a black widow romps around with a flag of
Greying streets whisper cold dust, a different time Their utterance echoes,carves on my glass mind. They hush a hymn so soft, it dangles like innocence, from an old child. I, an antique vase made to their design. Greying streets whisper,
Racism is a poisoned thorn that is imbedded in the heart of America. At first glance, it appears the thorn is merely a sliver creating a small amount of—discomfort but not really a wound worth considering after all, it will
Still listening from lips, a mute hearing with hands, an improper metaphor. …………………………………… In the frozen lake of eyes a fish dies in unread tears. …………………………………. An upended home of laments in moon. …………………………………. Imperfect proximity of pillows. sleep was
The star happily winks at us Like a prodigious son of the night He twinkles amusingly on us With his everlasting glittering light. He caringly watches over us And peeps peacefully at our dreams Gracefully handing shy beams With every
Now that my mother, father and siblings have passed. Yes passed, a dainty word saying, dead, gone, either up in the sky, or down in the ground. At last I have said the words, dead, died, death, leaving me bereft.
In this endless route called life Where ‘m walking day or night Every moment – every sigh My wanderer soul, asks how and why Where is that place, where I could find thy? I searched for him in temples and
It is 9 o’clock; will be up in some time. Woke up later, what! It’s still 9 o’ clock! Clock’s not working. So much smoke…! Can’t see Anything at all! …Ahu Ahhu…! Have to open the window…; the window is
When darkness dampens your devotion, The will is there but devoid of emotion; Remember to hold your head high And kiss every violent wind which passes by. That violent wind takes you to places unknown, Places of future palaces and
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,
Open the door and usher in some light watch the dismal darkness fade away. Question your sorrow, your beliefs, ponder what was good, forget the bad. Bury the visions that haunt you, they are but ghosts of time gone by.
Urn was carring the snow unmelted like the soul of night. It was a very strange winter like araucaria puzzle. Who was dragging the evergreens over the chaste cliff? All the incogerent roots have broken the placenta for new gods.
Never cease to smile, for you know not there be someone who would secretly admire; A smile so pleasant, brings one upon oneself, raging across miles faster than the fire; Quells the sorrows & spreads the joy, drifting the mind
Orang Ulu… loping through mottle-green light of the jungle-track, lighter than dawn-mist and nimble as wild-cat. Hunt-hounds around-him are bounding and wailing a death-hymn or baying for deer-spoor or fat-ox or wild-boar. Ulu agape at the edge of a clearing,
Do not be afraid to make mistakes everyone does but worry about what is and not what was. mistakes make us different makes us stand out mistakes are part of life. it’s what life is about don’t let your mistakes
Once had a very good close caring friend I thought the great times would never end My boyfriend and I visited him regularly everyday For many movies we watched, and games we’d play One night my boyfriend left his gray
So colorless and filled with multiple colors So weak and venerable; but powerful and strong Harmless and friendly; yet dangerous in adversity It comes in drops but falls in torrent It rolls in drips; yet like an avalanche it rushes
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
The fear is creeping inside with every single step I take Seems like everyone is going to hurt and their sympathies are fake With broken dreams and a heavy heart, I still hope to find solace Though in the past,
Only so many tigers Left in the wild— Donate generously To ‘Save the Tiger’ Ran a television commercial! The commercial Was not being telecast… Once in a while— It was appearing Every other minute That too, not in just one
I am seeing my reflection, In your pure innocent eyes, You grin ear to ear, Taking in my surprise! You garland me with your arms, I wrap you in mine, My clouded self forgotten, I relish our big hug time!
Some persons wanted Him to be killed Others planned to tie Him up or to expel Plans of polytheists of Ka’bah, He was revealed He moved to Medina, with a mission to propel Besiegers followed Him, to track Tracking led
The voice of good education Echoes through the hall Drowning out even the droning of the fan Solid silence suspended above and between Minds being moulded into something acceptable This is the way forward, we are told The only way
Mysterious is he, the person Even with his body temperature soaring and his whole body shivering and his head revolving he hasn’t stopped showering the soothing romantic wording to his dream girl-cum-wife , par enchanting all the while heaping the
Though almost our eleventh hour, Though its our darkest hour, Before the sun shines, There must be darkness Before we hear the chirping birds Or the see the beauty dawn, Its after coldest hour That we may see the light
We live amongst a sea of façades, Of faces gone faceless and drowning In beliefs that we, the fallen angels Have somehow, some way become Gods. We live in a world where on city streets Litter becomes its own kind