Monk poems bring the best collection of short and long monk poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great monk rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these monk poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on monk are here for you.
In the twilight of life There he was rambling Amid the memories he bore Of his life Memories sweet and sour Flow by his mind, Leaving traces of Wrinkled smile There he walks in tranquility Like an old man Rich
Love is a nicotine, hurts but, it’s mine. The angry pulse feels like a needle tussle, ain’t no relief, drunk in your memory old monk. Blood rushing in cold, as the moment unfolds, Mind, all numb, noise of the silent
The Sun on my hands a shaft of light from somewhere. I first felt the warmth then the heat, the hands perspire the ray lights up countless jewels Diamond crusted gloves on moulded clay. Hands caressed each other, for time’s
Feel like breaking free from all Good and bad that I recall Free from the shackles of loving souls And from the shackles of fear and doubt Wonder if all feel this way To experience hews on life’s highway. Monsoons
I think about the soft velvety eyes, Wet in wait- Of a resolve of distance. Yonder do they stare at- Looking for the clouds the eyes love. Blue sky gazes down at him too, Benign and protective of his space.
Did wise men from the Buddhist east Worship the child Jesus as messiah? If so, may not fungible god or fungi yeast Raise dough over the same fire? Was it reincarnated lama or messiah The Magi come thus far to
Over the lake moon was hounded out from the dark clouds into the defying blues. The thick orbit hauled up the debris of falling stars. I was watching the crowd of centuries piling up in history. Global heat was settling
He faked a letter to god and slept whole night. (Fallen in a creek from a moving train.) Indeed, he saddled himself with luxury of oblivion. The success around him was most obstinate. Pretending to condone the arthritis of social
The clouds shuddered as if stuck you knew what would reach you would not be a gentle breeze as stupid and slow as you’d ever be looking for a barrier a shield managing to take one step back before ragdoll
Belonging to the not belonging, was becoming a method exploring the path. In the backyard unpleasant fumes were rising. Nocturnal swoop of enlightenment, clearly becomes a festival of yellow death. Who was hiding the truth? Flowering of the thought in sky,
Consensual drop. White bougainvilleas were falling on green eyes, as I climb the sun. Not a loss. The seeds will carry an image of a fallen hero on the hairy chest of a spilled sperm- into the rippled lake of
I’ve been drenched In the pool of Tormenting thoughts The footsteps that entered Into my oblivion Those enormous hands Metallic fingers Sharpened nails Molding Cupping First a drop Just touched and trickled Then A handful Yet not satisfied …. Everything
Beyond the sex he was sleepwalking in shame hiding his faith ingloriously. A poacher in harem of politics, where you stack the hidden virility for killing the money. A single mate must die making love on screen in the vicinity
With endless poverty gleaming in their eyes, Dreams, desires and will to live; Everything has faded to get fled, In a beggar; a living dead, A zombie on the streets. With an affirmative urge in hesitation, Cohesively willing to die
Somewhere and somehow, how and where I don’t know. But from ‘twinkle twinkle little star’, to the melody’a thing of beauty is a joy forever’we grow up. The past 15 years can be compared to the life of the ‘Brook’.
At a liquid time flowing between two visions, Before we imprisoned our breaths inside cages of a calendar, Before bird feathers fell down into inkwells, Before we covered our dead with an elegy and a confusion written on papyrus leaves
Freedom an aftermath of martyrdom,a mark of remembrance, A status of solace to be free from heartrending surveillance. But, Jasmine, the fallen pleasure on the road dust Stares at me with a plea to lift her tenderly, To save her
Why did not you cross the black river and remained innocent? Unhealed, failed inside, broken and honest? You won the race, the space, the heaven. Moving away to the farthest blackness. Your god sits cross legged, clotting. Brown hands on
Breath on my window silently screaming out for a certain Scorpio but it’s like you’ve just disappeared, like a ghost in the blinding snow, the fire here inside is warm but I feel a chill craving your hot, hot lovin’,
Road ahead of us Cannot be assessed Mind of a woman Cannot be gauged Length of a Tunnel Cannot be measured Sayings of a Sage Cannot be understood The time when Earth Bounces Cannot be figured out While such is
NEGATIVE STREAKS Self glorification is trying to impress one self Putting down others is to cover ones short comings praising an incompetent is to seek favour Covering up ones own mistake is the step in wrong direction Over looking the
I saw a place with a thousand islands Stretching from the clouds to the deep Meeting people with talents of grand Liberated together, not by a pity demand A picture popped through my head Filled with colors blue and red
Each morning she grants me the unique privilege of providing a smile on her face I know quite a bit about the simple things. To watch her walk in and delight herself with the croissant of open lips A splash
Although tomorrow isn’t promised. Today was once tomorrow; Becoming yesterday. A depth often taken for granted. Consider waking up one of the most beautiful of arrangements. Perfectly gift wrapped and opened each time we blink. Eyes coming to full bloom
In perpetuity, it whisks around, Neither ever halting, nor lagging… Or observe perhaps with due delight, Allure, of the clock, in which it lies. Utters the second hand, then to me, If I pause, time too shall have to cease.
Jerusalem exults with joy: Behold ye Christ the King! He is the only true envoy Elohim’s. Let us sing The chants of faithfulness and love, True Love of ether high, Whose herald is the peaceful dove; Turn hearts to Jesus:
Though among the chosen, Judah opted to cross floor, Out of his way Heading to the path of the fallen! In a spectacular way Breaking loose from The tight grip of the fallen, Mary Magdalene braved The ardours track of
Look at these lines – fishing for compliments – Hooked, they drag us back. Leave us squirming on the dry bank: Palpitating, bruised from the fight. Removing the pin from the mouth It’s a painful business. But worthwhile. Who’ll throw