Minority poems bring the best collection of short and long minority poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great minority rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these minority poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on minority 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
Disabled A person having a physical or mental condition that limits movements, senses, or activities A complex phenomenon, reflecting an interaction between features of a person’s body and features of the society in which he or she lives Developmental differences
Well you say the lifestyle he lives is wrong God created Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve, well hell who are you to judge without Weighing all the options, did you ever think That maybe he’s still dealing with
The nobles’ officials sigh, When the storm starts in the sky, For soon or later, It will be too late to blow the horn, All wealth and pleasures they enjoy, Puts them at the mercy of the peasant minority, For
Are you educated? Have you an injured heart? Have you a purified brain? Do you believe in truth? Are you alone? Do you seek problematic truth, solvable truth, real magic? Are you a secular person? Do you believe in democracy?
Woman is that truly you, crying to be delivered? Your glow is evident, the sun clothes you. Who would believe that you are for real? Though John saw you, this so unexpected. What caused you to appear as a minority?
The visionary, Atlas, Shrugged his shoulders as he regarded The city of kings, Collapsed under its own weight. Remnants of an unachievable dream Haunt the few remaining halls, Corrupted and skewed creatures That feel no remorse, and The servant girls
Jerusalem exults with joy: Behold ye Christ the King! He’s Elohim’s truest envoy. Hosanna! Let us sing The chants of faithfulness and love, True Love of ether high, Whose herald is the peaceful dove; Turn hearts to Jesus: aye! Men
Your insistence to become something, to overstay existence was not fair. On a row of white shrouds – holding innocent beings, death was walking barefoot, crying. Between farewell and stupidity, staccato, shooting questions to life. What was the need for
For a messenger of lies I lay down the script. A kick starts the game. I am the only visitor to the gallery. Kamasutra suicide displayed was a way of expression of a revolt against honour killing of your own
This is my portrait of you. It speaks to me in strange, colored verses, in whispered codes of ancient languages. I often get that illusion. You are not easy to ignore. I’ve long studied its dog-eared corners, one by one,
New Soul Journey and Angels all around somewhere on the edge of eternity…I turn around to find my guardian holding out his hand then suddenly I am free of this world as pillars of colors rapture me away and so
A world of glorified crooks and vilified saints. He is an aspiring politician, while he is the selfless Samaritan. He embraces deceit, while he toils in virtue. He amasses wealth, while he mourns over strangers death. He plots ploy through
My sins have risen landing me in a prison Darkness dwells In the corner of my cell Hope has fled And trust is dead There is no humanity Only insanity Innocence is not alive anymore It is something I thrive
The storm shall surrender and harmony would prevail Shackles of the mind Would break free! Shadows of the past Fade away for better Lost memories.. Engulf newer moments Shattered dreams Lighting up future streams One fine day The day of
Found yourself yet, or running around in circles, finding a corner to sit, and think on what’s left, and what’s right to do? Took a dive into dark seas, or mesmerized by light enough, to see what’s deserved, or just
A storm I think, it is coming through– thunderheads in a blind momentum overthrow the stillness, the cars skid and blare, the men skitter, clouds roar Long deep shadow covered life and love lightening flares down to earth kissing the
Life just keeps ticking on sans any rancor so to say On face all seems perfect with core in utter dismay Apathy tried attempting and walls I built around Now jab at susceptibility my old despair compound Past zest needs
Move on… He said…To where? Asked she That was no pause neither an eternity. When the leaves shone on the path, I was all smiles and lively. Crusty and sleepy eyed, Dreamful of reality. When did sun rise to be
Those days the sun flew over me like corn flour, freshly ground at the millrace. Even in winter it was yellow when I pressed it down with my thumb, like an unfastened button on my chest. I could hardly cut
The Butterfly has awoken And rightfully emerged from his cocoon What makes it so beautiful is Not the wings or image Of itself But the beauty of its flawlessness Mindset in this breath Taking shattering world It already being so
She is silent, He is silent, But the silence is broken, And the eyes are doing their work, A beautiful heart in love, Is reflected in the eyes. She knows it well, He knows it well, Then why this refrain?
In hoardes they arrived not cattle or flock of sheep sea of humanity deprived a deluge seemed to sweep Harried mothers hands in pray weary eyed children in tow losing who couldn’t bear sway reached utopia unsteady and slow City
The successful man has talent. Talent, perhaps developed, perhaps discovered. And so he works, to become better. The successful man has money. Money to fund his talent. His talent, which will lead to his success. The successful man has friends.
In your arms I find the heavenly solace; In your embrace I find my sanctity. In your two eyes lie my universal happiness; In your heart lies my vanity. Your touch ignites the passion of love; Your words make my
Another phase another life Time to lift up my wares Move to the next fair Like a true vagabond Gained nothing, lost some Chanced upon sacred earth Though someone else’s Committed sacrilege Though never believed Expected the world Fell on
There are times when I wake up…. And I think “I could lay here forever”. Soaking up the sunlight pouring in through my window. Onto the white comforter of my bed. Wrapped in the warmth of flannel sheets. I can