Metamorphosis poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of metamorphosis poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on metamorphosis are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
It will be painful, generational. Hard to keep up. The old will resist fight the loss of their world. Change will be blinding, the fabric of civilization fraying turning to dust. Everything known will be obliterated. Humanity loses its identity.
It’s a fluttering dove, No…mayhap a trembling rabbit, Why does it sound so loud? The shaking, the trembling Now the throbbing, the thudding In my ears, a stampede, The gasp that awakens, confirming It’s the beat of my heart, Out
In this blood-watered land forms flow fluid as serpent becomes lizard, lizard becomes turtle, turtle become cicada, cicada becomes sea urchin, becomes sacred owl with onyx eyes In this soul-fed land fugitive figures fuse into each other, my breath becomes
Neath the boughs and eaves; a soul all withered, weathered; grieves. For a love once unfurled Of promises made; and hope assumed and vows murled…. Scattered and battered in the undergrowth lies a heart that has found no rhythm no
Overturned, years of stasis Paralysis by mental blockade A political metamorphosis. Afoot at the general election; Vengeance of the Manifesto. The interregnum, the entrenched vote Tranches appear, on Revised Register Deceased coded, in numbers resurrect. Beyond the grave, claim their
I travel between two worlds World of imagination, another of daily settings. I work, I talk, I sleep and eat And do all things, all for common blessings. My essential hours guide me To assume my conscious self Amid the
He awakens To a wicked world Of His own design Where the Damned Live amongst The Divine Their perfect little lives An illusion Fueled by vanity As He searches The darkness for light And His sanity Rythm of the heart
the hunt begins after sunset under cracked moon, blindfolded clouds start visiting volitionlessly: the nesting eagles, I choose this bitter absurdity of large wings under the sun, where they will announce the shade, a lonely patch of life, of signature
the end of a thought is never for its death, but for a new beginning; there is always a meaningful silence, a metamorphosis, I do ever find, between a stop and its succeeding word like that of death into birth
Wrigglers dripped again from hidden heights. The red river changed its course furiously. The wave climbers abseiled from a lethal boat to wipe out the beach memory. Timeline sneaked to put the blood signature of a cult on the glass
Difficult it becomes, the secret of the judgement and metamorphosis of the painted cotton into a stained truth. To save the present tense. A dangerous crowd of vowels to express the incomplete moment of watery teeth, so hung, while misspeaking
Are angelic neurons fleshing inside a trans-Inquisition tavern? Another kind of speaking, pontificating globe? Can we feel the burning and sexing of the four seasons with the four elements, recycling earth, water, air, fire, to produce the quintessence of your
The house is quiet Now you’ve gone No more music No love song Emptiness rings out loud Where we would dance Without a crowd The house is quiet No more laughter Just memories Gathering dust Shadows that used to be
Sinuous roots stretch scrawny limbs, Seeking security in a forbidding terrain. Tentative fingers probing for purchase, Momentarily anchor, creep and grasp again. Mindless ambition, an instinctive will, Drives a path to solar sustenance. Revitalising rays multiply cells, Promoting uninvited regeneration.
It’s been a day, maybe two Since our chance encounter when I met you And suddenly now the words are pouring Like the rain on a mid summer morning It’s beautiful this feeling,this constant yearning But I knew from the
Page 1. the celebrated sailing frog from Montgomery County went a court’n, or so the tale iz toad to a grand ole mansion built around 1910, and e’en ‘pon being razed ~2012 ah no dummy sea worthiness still plainly showed,
My aura shining around me enlightened by what’s inside me A diamond who needed polished got it, my eyes unblinded Thoughts and acts realignment dark nights I was found in Cages I was confined in but wisdom help me survive
Every day in his life was hell, Repercussions he could hardly spell. He endured drudgery to pay his bills, No time for Netflix and chills. Man, he never had the privilege of peers, His world was always shrouded by petulant
BONDAGE Memories of the joyous moments spent with you are emitting out deep from my heart and i feel like rhyming the choicest of the romantic tunes in Ecstasy and mingle with you to set our bondage to eternity As
A beautiful portrait of lovely ladies hangs in front of me in my workplace gazing at them I often wonder- – Where, where have we come from being them? ? Bejewelled, bedecked, beautified – -an epitome of adornment coy, silent.demure.humble
What do you believe? Why do you believe it? How did you learn it? Who taught you? What where their motives. Ideas not men rule the world. Some believe in religion, some do not. Some believe in life after death,
Every moment that I spent with you How much was delightful How exciting and delectable it was But it is the reflection of the past now I passed every moment with you until tomorrow Now are the remnants of memories
She worked hard, He worked harder, They both tried, To keep it together… But it was beyond, Their reach, They could not hold on, Forever…! They fought all night long, She ripped all of his letters, He burnt all her
Betrayals from long-ago, Resurfaced when I saw you. Though time had past, The wounds still bleed. As if the damage, Was done yesterday! No apologies ever flowed, From your evil lips. Sympathy was never implied, All I could see was
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
An unwelcome feeling Something I’d rather refrain from It’s not what happened after But what happened during the storm Making you weak It will seep right through Taking a sharp knife Stabbing it into you. You will wanna run As
Voices in my head they don’t heed to me anymore have a life of their own and me as a slave critique everything I do fight over each small detail perspectives and bitter hurt and they keep it alive keep
That old pair of socks, lying in the drawer, Reminds me of mom, winters and A long lost lover… Those fresh white textures Look worn out and grey And yet there’s so much they’re waiting to say… I touch them
We all seek something bigger than us Something strong our hearts can trust Greater than what we can understand So great our hearts could bend Something far from the usual Definitely not what our minds used to know But what
The air whirled around in circles. Dried leaves whistled beneath my feet. Something was trying to delay me. Something strange was afoot. Rain started to drip, drip, drip. Then torrents down on my face. I was surely getting the message.
Enter cycle two and the Breaking of Bondage… Well what lies down this road now Heaven only knows but I’m not gonna be your prisoner anymore, I don’t want to look back on yesterday tomorrow and regret the dreams I
To act ceaselessly ordained, By reactions inevitably chained, Karmic Wheel relentlessly turns, Fruits it haplessly churns, To rebirth, in new cycle to return. One his Truth who Knows, Neither as actor nor action, Neti, neti as the Sages said, Mere