Los Angeles poems bring the best collection of short and long los angeles poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great los angeles rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these los angeles poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on los angeles are here for you.
i get tired of the people red yellow black white you are precious but not mine i dont know the people you’re young are you married you’re old is there passion what is your preferred toothpaste rich or poor, can
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
Star of Zion, White and blue Shield of the lord, the old and the new. Star of David, Star of peace, Covenant of the holy Star of David, Star of light, Shining bright and The promise of eternity… Star of
My master In his tact tied Astute tricks As an alchemist Enacted Enchanting Enslaving me My master Ringed me Caged me Often fidgeted With my softness Tempted Teased me Tamed to his tunes I leapt Danced Licked his feet Let
Perhaps I am crazy, I sought the limit of the boundless ocean, I implored the river to stop for a moment to listen to the music of my soul– Perhaps, perhaps Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow there is
Once there was a lady who framed up a prince to marry. She arranged that her man be turned to a frog for her plan. Kissed frog turns Prince, voila! That was the magic formula. But the Wizard said: ‘No!
The grey-haired die of hunger, the children’s’ store full of food, While still breasting, death snatches her mom, She faces the wrath of her step-mother, what crime is she paying for? While still nurturing her infant, the shadow snatches her
Literary Lessons #1: A poet should above all be devoted not to being copyrighted, but quoted. #2: Divine inspiration is no excuse for bad poetry. #3: In literary style, I endeavor to follow in the footsteps of Dickens, Poe, Dickinson
Her cryptic soul a storehouse of overflowing emotions. Guarded by the invisible cloak Her mind, a mess, the questions that raise. The shadows by her which stalk The body, the soul, The mind that howl All of her lost in
Searing in sunlight and dense in humid breath that uncomfortable nether-ground we ancesterally dashed across to escape the swift and sharp toothed now is a show of umbrellas and baking skin joy of wading into the delicious cool feeling sand
You’re my sweet endearing child Fragile and lovely to stare at You gave me a reason to live Smiles and hopes were brought in to me. Every day is a new enjoyable chapter Looking forward to be the best father
An innocent face redness in eyes wild tresses made more wild by the blowing wind a pained expression smile that is lost laughter like a brook lost somewhere for now lost she looks incapable she calls herself torn by love
Putting the fire in mouth as a last rite he readied himself for the onslaught of questions, who will attack like leeches, the blood sucking parasites. It was a bizarre coalition of love between kissing cousins. The knifing will continue
She’ll only dance as long as you don’t watch her a heavenly symmetry in the distance between elbows, knees. Gravity is only a suggestion while she progresses through nameless steps, her unplucked body stepping across thresholds billions of sisters have
The green butterflies sometimes look light blue in the sun The lemon and lime leaves touch the sky and reflections come The brown tree trunks stand so very tall with branches that winds make hum The moss is like velvet
*Whoosh* Thoughts embedded into my psyche unravel, As I steadily make my way out past the unabating white water. The pure, crisp, salty air fills my nose, lungs, and heart. *Whoosh* I cast an earnest gaze onto the horizon, Awaiting
Did you know that Never knew none To know what’s what Poem let be done. Primitive the people Of the early days So is religion Founded yesterday. Media is a set-up Government is a fraud Churches, pure business Well-played, applaud.
Everyday I feel and wish, But it never goes away… This eccentric loneliness of mine, Looks like is here to stay… Words can’t describe this feeling, As it grows stronger, With each passing day… But things will get better, Give
Evergreens iced at river’s frozen brim December’s breath stills the burdened limb Powdered boughs winter in floral dream Recalling sweet temperate summer’s stream Where nymphs dimpled warm aqueous skin How frigid the vein now that wears stone thin But beneath
Selfish night, why do you make me weep? Have you no understanding of my heart? I never wanted us to part Most greedy night, why do you take away my joy? All I ever wanted was forever, most silent night
The crunching of gravel beneath my feet A sound I associate with a country retreat Manicured gardens tended with care The scent of rose blossoms filling the air A quiet calm away from the throng The silence disturbed with birds
Tell me about the bluetoothed man, of his stark naked truth, in toe for a brief pause. The toll was mounting. The tallest fraud of chilling facts. The city of cold murders of hermaphrodite. The sex of meanest level to
The crowing cocks, herald the dawn, The surging sun, signals the morn, The homing birds mark the dusk, A change in every phase, so brisk. Spring sets the country in bloom’ Summer swallows dispel the gloom, Autumn leaves the trees
They’ve often asked if I was restricted by a religion, But “I just can’t eat” had always been my sermon. However, I was fascinated by how they made it And why their tongues galloped as they tasted. So I took
Have you felt nauseous that you want to vomit out yourself? So tense that your muscles find it difficult staying in one piece? So worthless that you wanted to die? Well, I have and I can tell you that it
When black ink spills across the sky The time when ravens roam the heavens When the mythical beast gobbles up the sun Robbing me of the light I need to survive It becomes too dark for my preference. Pitch-black, that
You know, I just write as it flows Sometimes poetry Sometimes prose Who knows… What this life brings Who knows… When the nightingale sings Yesterday is history Tomorrow is a mystery Today is the truth Now is the reality I
An evening primrose glides, on my rough hands. I pluck a laugh from the lips, of a parched face. It knows the meaning of death, kissing the pink eyes. Of the lost fidelity and the innocence of the dying sun.
I was aware My breath was not the same His presence sank in me such I feel him in every drop of rain Pain,anger and intense moments Life’s become a fast trail The destination is worthless now Journey my only
These days, as I wake up, an eagle sits on my window. ‘tell me, my eagle, tell me the tales of distant flowers, of dragons, of dangerous people, with beards, with spears. tell me of their loves and dreams and