Lonley poems bring the best collection of short and long lonley poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great lonley rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these lonley poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on lonley are here for you.
The blazing sun it scorches the dry golden sand. Up above a Red Tailed Hawk screeches it echo’s for miles yet not another sound.. The intense heat waves add to the stillness giving it a more desolate eerie and lonely
The self within you is perturbed Rusty, Dusty, unclear and broken Ruptured spirit you carry within It needs to be healed… Healed from within your spirit The soul needs to be nourished With good deeds and thoughts The soul within
Mid this commemoration, Of annihilation Of inclinations And pursuits, My soul revels In these fervent goodbyes. The stiff and the spiritless, Scream my name. They exult and glorify This celebration. Agony, Candid in it’s certainty, Leaves always, To re appear
I have figured what is eternity, In longing, and boring hours of a day, Eternity could be anxiety, In half-second before a kiss would lay; Could love be measured in eternities? Does love subtract from life for lack of it?
Times are fast flowing taking away that Precious bit of prudence we held so close to soothe A strung up nerve from letting loose. Today, imagine Getting caught At the cross wire of a Boy of ten frail years Asking
A beautiful and sweet girdle Collecting it is quite doddle Counting is like a hot fettle Touching it is a bit brittle. Let be the Geeta or the Bible, Let be grapes or pineapple, Importance of money able Is not
I unwrite a song for she, a gratis homage. Questioning imperils the sky, clouds would not weep. A cover-up comes to quote scriptures the meaning of deployment. Was I feeling smug after counting the pages of unread death? ———————————————– I
Or, at least that’s what you might think. Judgement hurts in too many ways to count. I stand in the local thrift market looking for trinkets and such with my father. He came here to look for vintage picture frames
I’ll try my hand at writing while I smoke, You never know ‘til you experiment; In honeyed indolence my time I’ve spent, I’ve made no money and I’m sadly broke. The sands of time are flowing as I toke, I
Out of my heart run many questions Questions that can only be answered with another question Questions that can only be reasoned with love Because what is this life without love Once upon a time in the land of man
A black hole detonates itself to stigmatize the substance. Now a silk road leads to sight and touch. A scarecrow starts screaming. Sky was falling on fire. The space becomes deviant. Chopped hands were drawing the tattoos of winged feet.
In this endless journey, In this endless pursue, I thought – I was alone, Until, I found someone along with me, Paused briefly – momentarily, I looked back to see – For I thought may be it’s thee, But, It
Full to the burst, then some more; mass tending to infinity, space shrunk to a bore. Milked by human greed, coerced by animal need; bodies cursed, souls crushed, cattle to the daily slaughter. Past imperfect, future tense, Tomorrow = yesterday;
I stood on the over-bridge, yellow phosphorescence beckons– Round moon like bosom of goddess Venus , nipple for a touch; a lapwing cries over the night. A sudden rustle in the undergrowth awakened the ephemeral days of my youth, fallen
While out hiking through a wilderness cathedral enjoying the absolute peace and tranquility of Nature A rapid duel breaks out totally destroying the peace. A squirrel, and two stelerz jays on the opposite side of this pristine clearing are scolding
She rocks the stage with elan Speaking not much with her clan Music her soul her heart Hands always moving like a work of art Strumming with fourths eighths and sixteenths Counting 1234 in patterns of beats Never a count
I tried hiding my tears behind the smile I had…expecting you to read my mind!!! Disappointed again!! my heart never takes things light … it pains.. When it comes as possessiveness versus pervert guesses, the latter becomes my image now
Union with infatuation The very night is colorful in sweet company If contact would be, very grave, heart rejoices its fancy Now those eyes are composed and look drowsy The morning is restless for union is at climax This is
Alone in a car park, staring out at the rain, musing and snoozing and counting my pains. Watching the world as it passes me by, the ebb and the flow through warm sleepy eyes. Moments slip by, we must leave
Whole world hides in your liquid eyes, I need to return to my consciousness, to change my verse. The dry air has wiped out the beautiful words sitting on the edge, of a meaning I write a new song. Discovering
Through the window, I see the bare trees. I hold hands of family members—not my Family—of which they are unaware. Truly. Sadly. We celebrate with champagne And shrimp cocktail. Their warm welcome Chills my bones. With each sip Of champagne,
Being Alive is to feel the breath…that cannot be felt after the death… Being Alive is to feel yourself beyond the senses…that capture your spirit in all the instances… Being Alive is to feel the real you…feeling the consciousness, pruning
To drill a hope in the drowned soul was very difficult, winds had blown away the talisman. Stress was palpable, you could tear the weather with empty hands. Mists had walked into the houses to pick up the burning cheeks.
Knock knock whose there? He asked Me, the blind man. Came the response. And where from? Asked another, from the catacombs that covered years of deaths and solitude, in caskets of not so forgotten years. From the depths of reason
Watching from pin hole lamps of baked clay. Every thorn was in my flesh. I was losing my voice in crowd of maniacs. Dragonflies climbing on worn leather. Through cracked sunroof – skull splinters into million heirlooms. Fever climbs the
I dread the weight machine That horrible, putrid little thing It tells me lies that shatter me Clasping my throat that I can’t breathe Every time I step onto its platform The spring beneath contorts in pain It bends its
Knock knock knock!! He knocked the door with fear The night was not so dark not so bright The moon was hiding its face Behind the thin cloud The road was alone The wind was cold Nobody answered behind the
Exacerbating, falling in dust, searching the dead truths on pills of abandoned bodies of lies. The dawn brings out the trapped victims of transmigration from capricum to capricon. Then they commit a mass suicide around hymns to seduce the god
That fake encounter takes place everyday amidst peels of darkness and terror strikes you when you were looking for the healing torch. Clutching the old rags of history I sit on the pyramid of bones: somewhere the sanity puts up