Literature Poems

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

I wish I lived in middle earth, With wizards and hobbits and elves. Just give me a sword and a quest to fulfil, Like the heroes in the books on my shelves. I wish I had a dragon to slay,

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There once was an imp whose appearance was vain, his behavior was foolish, even his speech and imposing mannerisms were maimed! From those eastern cannibalistic lands afar he and his kind had once been blessed, indentured to serve the superlative

Africa’s venerated literary icon with words of eloquence esoteric to the blind. Distinguished in letters for ages infinite. Unparalleled in intellect, and a gadfly of constructive dissenting views. Soyinka, You are indeed a priceless asset to the black race. The

10 ways to write a poem! No sentence in the glory of English language has hit me as hard as this one did. I started writing poetry when I was in class 7th. I still remember the day when this

A motley group had made an affiliation of sorts It sprouted and mushroomed in our back lane And there was born a poetry club with no name Passion it was for the verses written in Urdu That linked them beyond

The exuberant fire that burns within my soul, In that first embrace of a lover’s smile; Shall forever be held, in equality to the power of love. Her servant shall forever wish for her luminous, infallible, tongue. Which speaks of

Nature is wild and eagles and wolves will never be lovers. But certainly Poetry can overcome every obstacle and translates our dreams, desires, passions.. in images that evoke even a new, different Universe. It fulfills the very nature of Poetry

Now let poetry flap its wings and sing to the sky in a language that not just carries a rich literary history but is also close to the heart in an unexplainable way. HighOnPoems launches the most awaited Hindi Poetry

Her scent wafts alongside her and sinks into my heart; For I have become fixated, by a desire for her touch. She was glorious and overpowering, from the very start; I am hooked and addicted to her love; she is

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

By mid month I won’t even tell them that this is is last month’s issue The election calendar has not changed since then Prioritize our distribution with a few hundred a couple hundred more to develop the readership on the

His stomach is full of pure rage, The heart is lacking What to do, When it all feels through? Should he chuck it all for a different slice of dissatisfaction, Or persevere , determining that circumstances will improve? Sometimes the

Where he fixed the features of his mental image what he thought and what tells vividly his visage He planned a journey of progress for present to start When his country would cover that with spirit of heart In future

Poem Dedicated To My Father Late Moinuddin Hasan–An Ideal Teacher- BEFORE TEACHERS’ DAY Moinuddin was his name,eloquent, which means— One who is an aide to faith and for that weens He lost his father when only six months and mother,

Comprehensive to common minds yet impressive. Creative writing demands appreciating. His composition is his recognition. Unknown to this world his designation. Nor noted he’s deserted. Exiled deep in oceans of literature, Get him a defibrillator. Too less like him left,

Oh bird, your meditation, that Indian monks borrowed And conduct school of meditation, with no means, To their ends, as they do it artificially, as a road-show; But thou makes it creative to find your prey and catch it As

I was on the road to revolution; when I met- The childless mother beating her chest in sorrow, the widow shredding tears of solitude, The motherless child crying for company, the father who had lost his son… For the road

In the quiet of the night they sleep so lost and unaware of time and place and who they are life can be unfair their days once filled with work and play with love and all it’s thrills is now

There are those who see nothing in every sunrise And those who see emptiness in loving eyes, They see only the water yet never the sea I just wish they would stop and take heed of my plea, Sunrises need

Little Jenny woke up and rushed to her granny. Granny sat by the window, gazing through ‘the window’ she held, Jenny gave her granny a peck and ran to her mama, Busy as ever, packing her darling’s lunch in ‘that

Pondering yonder sitting alone in littered room, stuff piled as if to hide our despair in stains on the carpet. the night we got so drunk spilling red wine on the floor like the blood that ran from my knuckles

The clouds compete, the sky gate The sun shouts, the moon waits! Tasted a bit of sweet success Gleaned through eyes, like a bird that left its nest! An aroma never sniffed, billowing from up top The trees stand stiff,

How happy those, who free from care, Live life to the fullest, carpe diem Sucking the delight out of the air If only you could see them No worries, just forever contentment Simply living the simple life No anger, no

Never we value what God has blessed We value for what God has not blessed We are often not happy with our progress We feel unhappy about others progress We don’t understand what happiness is all about We understand what

Laying here in the darkness Listening to the wind All is quiet Nowhere is there a sound I’m remembering all our memories The many of us laughing and smiling The few of us crying and silent So many memories all

She descends from en-suite and the balcony-shops, sways down the stairway, leather-mini concealing, sometimes revealing, lace stocking-tops; carries her bruises where nobody sees. In the hub of the foyer the faces are probing, sharp as the glare of the night-patrol’s

Once, not so long ago, There were many many beautiful flowers, And the exotic winged butterflies, Fluttered around them , Almost in a state of trance. On one such occasion, A brightly winged butterfly, Saw a wilting flower, And chose

The wind on high blows and branches bow on the tallest of trees and together they lean in shades of the brightest greens, walk with me along the high heath and gather flowers that spray all around your knees as

Absolve those smiles, Absolve those verses, Those assurance and those assertions; Not ever intended honesty, Not ever expected guarantee, No dreams to cherish and no pains to perish; The passion and the compassion The warmth and the wrath Were all

Something went wrong Something changed Where’s the sweet song? I’ve become a monster of pain. I can’t even see myself I’m that affected My mind’s now as small as an elf’s My heart…ejected. You won’t understand what I went through

Smoke a little weed, drink a little drink, there’s nothing to it or so you think but before you keep going you need to take a good look because underneath there lies a hook. So you do a little here

Swimming often in the deep, My beath held with kicking feet, Exploring the endless ocean, I, Squint and close my eyes, Feeling the burn of oxygen absent, Take in the pain and dive, Deeper down with intent, The waves sway

Spending the time of my life, Stabbed with a knife. A smile on my face, Trying to solve this case. Who would do this to me? Wanting my smile to flee. Observing everyone intensly, Everyone portrayed themselves beautifully. Curiosity killed

The sea is stormy Like my mind, The tide of thoughts Ebbs and flows Just like the waves That lashes the shore. My thoughts are wild The sea is stormy Neither can be contained Within their periphery But have to

So you are aware of a need Are you prepared for the deed? So you want to reach out and help Are you prepared to go the depth So you want to do all you can But do you have

I see my Lord’s face in the scattered leaves of autumn Hear His voice in the rustle as they move with the afternoon breeze I feel His gentle touch in the mystic eastern winds from Santa Ana Warm and dry

I believed I was free, Then I learned of norms, Of perceptions about me. Traditions held me back, Where my spirits soared, Turning my soul so black. Love came with shackles, An inheritance of beliefs, Trapped in social tentacles. They

They have always been together Holding close, that fondness for each other Be it for a soapy shower And drying themselves on a blower Or resting as and when in their Box- bed Like some lovebirds newly wed Life for

What if you could tell A person’s special talent From a single glance? Shown in a symbol, Branded on their bodies, so All the world can see. Maybe, for instance, Musicians would have a note, Florists, a flower, Bakers, loaves

It’s possible in Interstellar Our Journey It’s possible in Trillion Galaxies Our Love It’s possible in Stars Our Destiny It’s possible in a World of Fairy Tales Our Paradise It’s possible in Twilight Our Intimacy It’s possible in Infinity Our