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
2,000 AND SOMETHING YEARS LATER We still need him more than ever… Of course his wasn’t the best of times but Things just keep getting worse and now It’s here to you’re and mine… Well and I just can’t stand
It’s an adjustment, everyone says, life is to adjust Without questioning, what this adjustment means to anyone. Keep silent, when the other-end goes on shouting and argue For or against, do agree, whatever the other end demands, Without asking why
At the beach, it’s night time about 8.00 p.m. Best time to come few people around. Air is crisp, clean; cool, and the white horses are having such fun. Can sit for hours or gently wade while she softly whispers
It’s 9:00 on a Saturday, I’m at my PC, wasting my life, Surrounded by empty snack packets, And by the door is an empty pizza box. Life couldn’t be better. Bzzz… A noise. Punctuating my silence, my fixation with my
Love is Not just Excellent chemistry Between two individuals! If you really Love someone, You must have Excellent chemistry, Physics, Biology, History, Geography, Sociology, Psychology, Arithmetic, Geometry And all other Istries, metics, metries, Ics, ories, graphies, Ologies And all the
(1) A flower is a colorful scrabbling over a garden’s cheeks and a flying kiss into air. (2) A flower is a state of confusion, whenever a stigma erects up into a silky bed. (3) A flower is martyrdom on
(Dedicated to my niece, Zeina…) When you are eighteen Just add the two numbers And be nine again This ancient tree is evergreen… When you are eighteen Weave the threads of friendship Play the cords of worship Sing a song
People use your business as a weapon, that’s why I’m a private person. I keep my thoughts in my head, so nobody can’t say that I said. I keep people at a distance, because too many people is an audience.
I miss my dear friend and childhood days; Catching butterflies with sun’s rays. I miss your pulling my pony tail; Not doing homework and showing face pale. I remember your being punished for my sake ; Sharing even the last
you wouldn’t know them except for their orders gliding like dolls hovering, footless, wearing bright dresses that brush the dusty floor the kind a proud mother would pick out then stand behind their chairs distracted trying to tame their cowlicks.
The man pushes the other man in a wheelchair Down a dreary Salford road, avoiding kerbs, talking Always talking, talking of nothing, talking of everything, What it takes and never gives back. The load. With wheels of fire and halos
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
Every homecoming is a nomad’s offerings for forgiveness, A silent prayer, An apology for neglecting the roots, that have borne him. Two lovely yet lonely souls, leaning on each other Still, on their own worlds, Slowly move around and do
Pearl – drops on your upper lip: heat – of a stand-off between inside and outside. More spiritual I become forgetting the black eye, I want to go back with empty hands. My home is far away, doorless, roofless, where
Life, the very essence of our being. It is inevitable that we all must walk this journey. What we forget is that we are not on this journey alone. Even the nature surrounding us has its own life cycle. Our
My Guitar Weeps My tired Fingers Strum The strings…. Crazy twangs Wild jingle… A sad song My guitar weeps The heaviness Of my lonely Heart…. The heart is wounded It bleeds The blood clots Into touching Words… A song is
Oh Midnight Angel higher than a kite throw your clothes and a few things together and drive your new car like a bird in flight back across the Georgia state line whatever the weather never you mind you know every
The world is a nasty-looking fruit, With a skin made of TV screens, Of omnipotent mouths spitting out hate. Through your ears and eyes, they always creep in. But there’s a way to survive, a way to tread evil’s waters.
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
The will to create and the wish to destroy, it is time you acknowledge, has never been yours to own, Because, in your vengeance, in your unmindful impatience, in your immaculate madness, when your soul turns to stone – You
War planes high, the sky full of rains, a man cries of death, though not because of drugs like meth, Egypt seeking retribution, for the cruelly cinematic execution, for 21 men have gone down under, amid the crying and the
Precious Moments Merit To Be Written, In poems kept under the best of care, Never again will such events happen, For Time nary remakes a past affair; Perhaps, I might reread those rhymes someday, That flaunt of sweet caress your
It’s chilly and cold but Elaine I know You drizzle in the rain but never show Shrouds a tear shed by the raindrops Which fall from the cloud crying loud Howls the wind but Elaine I know Roars your heart
In memory of my Grand Mom who died over 30 years ago. Seeing you lying there In your eternal sleep; Lots of water has flown through since I was a child five year old Playing around the home Not knowing
Sound of Bell is an experience to thrill When the school Bell rings for class to begin students experience creek sound with their heart beating at random When the school Bell rings for class to end Students feel rhythmic sound