Mermaids poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of mermaids poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on mermaids are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Walking through the rainbow garden Of marble walls and fountains of gold I still wear the blue crystal you gave Me 10 years ago and sometimes I can Still hear your music when the right Wind blows, stranded in paradise
Where do fly my prying eyes Like a pair of rustic birds ?! Where the breeze and lily leaves Playing game of hide and seek, Where the glossy twinkle stars Wearing anklets and bangles, Where the pretty fairy queens Weaving
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
The unknown star in the skies of solitudes Away from oddlands and vicious latitudes Only the nearest to moons of strangeness To mermaids of wonder and fairies of loneliness Why it silently mourns the silence.. The crowd of regrets their
Incredible moon tips the hallucinating tree. Lake propels the waves to limbs and strips to bank. I wear my lightning and enter into a process outside body. The night betrays and goes back to sun. There is a frame of
I mawkishly effeminate sentiment, memories plucked from wood and field merged in a sentiment of unutterable sadness and compassion microscopic minuteness of eye, misgivings of grave kinds mockery crept into your tone, molded by the austere hand of adversity moments
I reached into the depths of my soul Plucked from the carnage The vestiges of my humanity Around me my brothers like bricks fall Yet not a flicker of emotion sustains Concern me this should Yet all that remains Is
At Sarnath the deer park where Gautama the Buddha first taught the dharma FROM THE HEART –A BHIKSHU’S SUPPLICATION Enlightened lord your wisdom is our knowledge , sufficient is that knowledge to ensure our covenant with wisdom in its turn
Now, I like walking in the rain, but I hate lightening and thunder. I like the fragrance of the soil, but why this yucky mud? I wonder. I prefer raincoats to umbrella, and rain-boots to match and pair. “Bare feet
That is how I injured myself desiring the right thing, extracting the reason from charity. I will now pluck off the rage, the silence, the exotica from the frozen valley. Words will become my foes swimming in your eyes. I
I will sit or lay. Not in sadness or tears, you don’t understand. I’m in-between everything. That time I starred at that horse. I wanted to be it so much. Its pensive eyes knew I was not worth a glance.
She smiled like the sun, warm and bright- Ushering her brightness all around her; like the winter sun-light… Many would give their hearts for her, for she was beautiful, But she pretty, too pretty in fact to fall for them-
I look at myself in the mirror wondering about my present state reflected rays become dimmer what could be my fate? Some strangers say they’re there for me some friends don’t say a word but then comes the sting of
Routine Life has no string attached to it Everything is planned for the day It is presumed things move as programmed involvement in the daily chorus smacks the Human sensitivity each one is busy for fulfilling the days obligation Day
By candlelight crooked fingers drew a face on water for the sake of sun. Night will tell the fate of flame. Smothers with Magnolia’s gloss. There was an eerie silence near the alarm clock. Time to wake up. The flowers
Drumming in the head Is a tune orchestrating As if the thoughts embodied Gulped in a quick thirst Blended in and synchronized Now Whirling in and out, spiraling A multifarious reel of amusement! Oh! In an unreal ticking of time
When you have been for long hanging into a strange nothingness, you begin to feel your floating hinges creak. Decide, decide, decide. Because everyone knows what they want from their lives (it’s believed). But creaking hinges are good I say,
Blue has me full sway a tide of it clingy as gelatin moving me in short shifts and I without excitement wonder where I tried falling in love my creepy overstuffed stare some non-commercial beauty seeming unspoiled I’m not what
THE WHIRLING STORM OF EVIL From the dark recluse in my thatched mud hut I barricaded myself; with the palm of my hands pressing tightly against my ears, vainly trying to shut out the mournful tune of the dirge playing
It’s the basics man Blue car with a spider lawyer Lights on a swimming pool at night She speaks French when she cheats Green chiffon ghetto lit with blow Orange face on a palm tree Have you quit looking for
It was afternoon hot on summer mid And the sky was blazing with unspeakable boiling, But still was graced with pound of clouds Which bore timid promises to overcome the summer damages. Then it was coming of rain like an
Shed the mood Blue Open your heart, feel the world which seems so new Things may not change, Many angels or demons will stay down the memory lane, Perspective and change in attitude is the clue, Shed the mood Blue.
I am the cave of rain entombed with love and embraces. every drop of mine, dance of ecstasy, touching you with the odour of algebra which may Decipher the mystery of your existence. how beautiful the wind dances within the
He said it was not easy, Not that easy, writing poetry. But I didn’t think so. (Yeah! I thought of it though.) I sent him my blueprint, He laughed and laughed… It’s not that easy, you see Your’s all wilderness.
Treating wife as a lover makes life so romantic Treating children like friends brings parents so close Worshipping parents like God makes life so sacred Treating friends as siblings make the relationship so special Taking care of the sick and
Poison is a woman’s choice, When it comes to dealing death. Those able hands that ladle love, Can dribble death in dollop; Amative breasts can often sting, Bedaubed in aspine wreath. Poison is a woman’s choice, When it comes to
Walking out of the body I was drowned, accepted and condoned by depth of sorrow. A wide circle of testosterone giving pardon to a sin becomes sexless. You were overwhelmed by the missed beats. Your prosaic crime of not fathering