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
Most flowery words are designed to gyp, Know that I shun such manner of discourse, My speech proceeds in truth without a slip, With words untainted, coming from the source; My love is as the sea that rides so high,
You went blank on the line between sand and water, between seizure and assault. The tribes have unwrapped their torches, they are coming in numbers. Who was going on trial? Fierce fidelity is demanding vendetta. The drummer announces the fight.
Leaving the concrete jungle far behind, towards Nature travels my mind. In search of solace, as the wind softly kisses my face. Grass moist and green, such relief from the cruel and mean. Meandering trails through the woods, leading me
One ring from “My Friend”, Nice to hear can join a team outing, But “Am Not” part of that team, Curious to know which place- It’s “HONNEMARUDU”, “One Ring”– Made an Amazing Golden Moment with Nature!! With the blessings of
A night of deep and dreaming sleep on a warm and firm mattress with appropriate coverings was not necessarily an item on our wish list, because we drew accustomed to the more simpler forms of mattresses that were not firm
Saturday evenings reek of stale words, aching bones and a running out of things to feel dressed in a darkness where your silence meets mine and no sound seeps in through the fine crisscross weave of the blanket soggy with
Clips, Clamps, Berets, and Bows. School, church, playdates, she goes. But that’s just the beginning of her poor hairs woes. Down again? Up again. Knots again? Brush again. Food again? Comb again. Gum again? Glue again? Brush, and comb again.
Singing about twinkle of the stars, Asking the black sheep for wool, Reading about spider making webs, I wish those days could come back again. In middle school had the first crush, When she would come around I would blush,
For the precious ones pride in the head flesh in a skull wish in the blood a curly swag a diamond scud a cunning smile I wish and will to compromise my recon time plan perceptional introversy mental controversy united
Why it should happen the parting of ways? Between the will to arrive and the goal? Between the unlearning and contempt, lies a tale. Terror. Petrifying fear ………., doggedly I was defending the door. Inspite of the terrible blows I
For the Heavens I strive, To make purpose from being alive, To ascend one bright day, To have visions enough to parlay. For becoming a better man, To give to those I sometimes can’t, To show how deeply I can
I was a bit older than you, you were a bit younger than me, We were so-called neighbors. You’re a different kind of girl, who’s shy and little, suddenly, friendship fell. We were so close, like brothers and sisters, who
fingers stretching,scratching the peppery head, tangled dreams run befuddled in the tangled mass , the dirt in the grown nails on the stubby fingers, they make a jagged line on the crease worn cheek, creased face wrung dry from unfulfilled
Once I lived in Swaziland, Away from my country my beloved homeland. A beautiful country of Southern Africa, Manzini and Mababane are its heavenly replica. We lived in coats valley near the grove of guava trees, My maid used to
He lay asleep, a contemplative air, On the window ledge, in the warm morning sun. Seeming so beyond the reach of a care, And I believed all his worldly duties done. The world courtesies as it passes him by, As