Margins poems bring the best collection of short and long margins poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great margins rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these margins poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on margins are here for you.
Marginality// By: Fareed Ghanem **** (1) When eyes rain on beautiful steps along a novel’s paths, while you stay out of the text, know that you are put in the margins; when you boil like sleepless volcano, just to furnish
My tomb is spread with bear’s garlic I was once a scourge of smoke the margins of the forest are lined with sharpest light city folk shriek and bleed my sepulcher is a woven oval ancient beeches clutching shoulders crooks
the Ouija board is brand new the table just dusted an aggressive scent of lemon burning nostrils so everyone’s sniffing like they’d just lost a relative five hands around the planchette sweaty fingertips and bit cuticles connected up to skeptical
Priests of cave temple go to sleep. Street urchins drink the thinner, eat nail polish, crushed lizard for a kick and then go without food for three days. The valley burns. Of what consequence? Sting of truth overreaches. Another committed
Am I alive? Is this a dream? Won’t I ever wake? Will I forever scream? The mind says, but my eyes don’t see, My soul wanders like a flowerless bee. Each step I take amongst the endless waste, Minefields of
The wind writes a name on the clouds and sun wipes out the letters. This game continues daily. coming into life after every death. Exhausted I want to believe and make up my mind to go for a new birth.
A city dies in me anacephalic. A white sheet spreads, blinding. You don’t feel the epidural. Untitled, death walks, like a whore, contamination of inbreeding. Recycled pain hurts again. You want to give a stillbirth over the dense-packed nettle. First
Isn’t a child’s pristine smile The sweetest of all expressions One can ever chance to see On a human countenance? Doesn’t it make you forget Your woes and worries for a while Reviving your faith in the inherent goodness Dwelling
What would you name a relationship- Sans lust Sans sensuousness Yet so cherished that it leads to a big smile. What would you name a relationship- Illogical Unacceptable Still so desiring that it ignites the soul. What would you name
It was just her fifth birthday, When she learnt to search for truth, And she questioned everything she learned, From then, right through her youth. She asked who had decided, Only boys could play in dirt, But her mother said
I saunter down a shady boulevard Walk on a rocky, uneven path My shadow trails behind me slowly Hunched-back, dragging a lead ball wearily Every step is a torture us both As I walk bare-footed on slivers of glass Each
Like a sunrise Like a sunset Life is just an imagination We live the moment We remember the good ones, We try forgetting the sad ones As life begins, in the memories of others We die as the memories fade
Measure not the sincerity of friends, Time will show you worth of all, Those with you in cheers and delight, Probably won’t answer to your call, When you’re in trouble or lagging behind, Most of them’ll fly and flee. Lose
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
I remember well that sweltering summer. Sky bright at 1 am, no breeze to blow the dark in, blackout blinds and fans whispering. Still sleep was difficult, years before whale-song tapes and Victor Meldrew. Though we had our own versions.
Does she have to bleed through her eyes? Does she have to cover the scars on her thighs? Does no one notice her dislocated shoulders? Does no one see her shiver as the weather turns colder? Do you look at
I watch the world go by, From my position at its periphery, I ask each day, For a sign, a message, Something to turn the senseless into the meaningful. My thoughts turn inward, My being aches with the pain of
The dangerous chainsaw of destruction, the damp and musty cemetery of cruelty, the dreaded dead drug of desperation, the dusty dirty crossroads of determination, the hollow eyeball socket of fear, the mysterious lake mist of hatred, the mindless needle of
Everything starts with a piece of something. But she’s already in pieces so how come? Such a dark journey, she wasn’t telling. A tragic story. Ending— there was none. All was black. She’s not blind, But her hope was. There’s
The spill of sheen after deep throat explosion. Not as special as the day appeared. Afraid of complete annihilation? Was it possible? Untenable? Living in a cavern full of bats? A key slept in a lock unmoving the golden doors.
The table is set and the turkey’s fine, ‘taters, sprouts and a glass of cheap wine. Crackers, party hats, bad jokes and toys, plenty of fun for good girls and boys. Pass me the stuffing, cranberry sauce, Yorkshire pudding and
Me, a singularity, vast, color fast, has a very good forecast and will flabbergast. Me, resilient at times brilliant and on the same token often broken. Me can be unforgiving, dangerously living but on the flip side, dignified, able to
“Are you a gentleman?”the old man asked, “Of course,why not?”the gentleman calmly replied, “Then change yourself and wear a different cloak of ungentlemanliness to survive in this darkness,”the old man advised the man. Being surprised,the gentleman asked him,”What do you
It began as the second decade of the 21 Century entered middle age, an underlying sense of unease, change. New technology increasingly altering perceptions. Reality not seeming so sure. Our five senses, were they enough? Were they telling us the
Half-buried in a mud pit, a polluter bares all, body and soul. Hands bound, ready to be stoned to death. A god was going to kill a god. A dense judgement of planet green of an unreliable sun scribbling a
You were half-crazy saving little buds brutalized by storm in a yawning night. The ugly silver of a fringe group becomes intentionally a hate cult, developing an epicenter for stripping to devastate a religion. The ghosts are walking in the
Through shades of dark red embered fires, so many unfulfilled desires When orange suns and sallow skies created more than pain filled eyes That once watched tired yellow moons reach out to cast star silver runes, As they spread out
Two flailing oiled chotis slap me out of stupor. The Goddess arches out hinged at the pole, her saucer hands clasped below mine. A hooting call answered with crystal stare from wide apart eyes that grazes my shoulder, wounding me.
Your beautiful spirit has found it’s way back home. Your golden smile will always be the sun of so many people’s lives. Dearest Maya, as a caged bird ,You told your story to touch deeply, and profoundly. You deserved to be
I want to be part of something Something greater than I Something that will continue to live when am gone I want to live for something something that will change the world something that will promote humanity I want to
I want a Tuesday kind of love. The sort of thing that involves little dreaming and scheming; the sort of thing that comes paired with too-strong coffee and too-loud songbirds and the drone of the news at 6 a.m. or