Originality poems bring the best collection of short and long originality poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great originality rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these originality poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on originality are here for you.
People around me have the same faces No discrimination This is the right thing- yes, But who is really who? How can we know you without knowing you- The smile behind the pain The pain behind the mind You are
There we met, at street seventy seventh; my friend who’d bowed down with altering features, and me with my clothes getting narrower. We could not find, in this chilly present, a tale to help us recline on the pavement’s stone.
I am not too well, he felt. The flames chased him in charred landscape. Fighting over, he pondered about the crime within, the surge to find a nest hole. A wounded pride where the salmonella hits. You enter a slot
Your thoughts are your life Dream big and then strive. Your mind is your limit, Believe in yourself and reach the success summit. Disappointments’ inevitable, Don’t be afraid ‘Coz they’re gonna make you exceptional. There are obstacles in your way,
Glinting off an orchestra Fully transported within A furioso movement Composed by a German maestro As experienced By a deaf orphan boy Who wandered Into the palace of arts. Enticed by firelight And the scent of cinnamon All those castaway
Tonight the nectar will be spread to tame a random tormentor. Black and white, I never saw my father weeping. Lonely he was. I am my own creation today weather beaten. Confession to – confession, unread. When the- storm was
Tired feet, aching head, teary eyes, weary heart’ I don’t need another heartbreak, I can’t take another heartache but we need one another. There are things you remember and there are things you can not forget like when a girl
Couldn’t have been the star, that guides from horizon, ushering into the twilight what destiny holds for thee Couldn’t have been the angel whose thoughts inspire goodness calling you to a sinless abode ringing the bells of virtue Couldn’t have
Today I moan the death of love A love that was never there A bond that never existed A relationship that was never there Memories that only seemed to matter to me Words that only seem to hurt me Actions
A wretched little hut still stands. Stained windows, a cranky door. There was laughter in it once, but nobody lives here anymore. Broken down by the waves of time, Still putting up a bold front. Violence, loneliness, pain, people moved
All I could hear were the deafening roars of the crowd at the show stopping moment, when everything got silent. The smell of something burning reached my nose, but I decided to ignore it. “Fire!” a voice screeched. Get up!
four poems on the nightstand written on cigarette paper they could be linked together into a manifesto with patience with skill and a fingernail of spit all the things you thought about me you were never shy about dishing out
(A collaboration with Gene) In dark melancholy’s mire a heart’s forlorn canoe paddles through the dense grief floating on the surface clutching like vines, sticks like Val Des ooze, pulling me under. Listening to the ghostly music coming from the
The Layman (Or: When History Repeats Itself)// By: Fareed Ghanem **** He is a layman, just like a gulp of water from a brook passing here by chance. His features are gratis, his eye-brows a bush of terebinth, furze, chicories
Little drops of rain fall from the space, like droplets of sweat dripping from her face . Cool breeze propels, saturated with moisture, compel to cherish her moist body, and nurture . Rain drops pelt the window and makes her
Pretty soul with mysterious memories A treasure to discover through the troubles A deep ocean to swim and dive Spreading fast virus to never ending love The cause of heartache and hypertension Unsolved case without understandable emotions Romantic creature with
You’re welcome in! I’ve seen you…. In my dreams, as in life, echoing the velvet onyx abyss of your soulless heart, And sweetly enshrouded with the eternal stench of history’s charm. The doors, portcullis to my chamber, lay stark wide,
(1) She does not really sleep. She stands on the thin space of night, holds trees with her fingers and takes a nap. Sleep for her is a necessary illusion. Illusion, when becomes a necessity, tears anything apart. Here she
Waiting under the opaque moon a primeval instinct takes over you and you start arriving. A black bone renders the ash on your forehead and you complete the circle – reaching childhood; you start climbing the ladder, for instantaneous release.
What an incredible adventure this love affair has been So many wondrous things that I have felt and I have seen So many special places that left such a tender mark A myriad of memories forever etched upon my heart
If hate was becoming an absolute truth and love was transcending lies where do we go now? This daily life, I was seeing the pain of troubled identity, turning into punishment of unbecoming. The hired untruths are killing the tender
I witnessed the death of the universe… Tumbling, crushing, spinning in the maddening chaos of the spiral Time! Eternity… ceased to exist, Time… was no more, my soul ripped asunder the stars… show no more! Pleading internally I succumb my
Better I not know the truth and remain aloof of the fact, at times it is best to ignore and live just like that. Some truths are painful they cause lot of uneasiness, but ignorance seldom keeps you guarded and
Ashburn paths where purple fighters slay The hemispheres match like hands folded All analogies bring you to me We run like wild nightmares We kiss like dark art on a lost street Now we must look at one another We
Winding down the winter trail Through the dark and snowy veil I came upon a copse of trees And took shelter there amongst the leaves The wind howled throughout the night And gave me such a terrible fright All alone
As The River flows – my life completes itself.. An enlightened tryst with the almighty, Created by destiny, I was born To flow like a never ending river A tough undefined journey, quintessentially alone The Himalayas promised me the purity
You made ascent to high thresholds of dreams, Much higher than where angels dwell on wings, And all the cost of sleep your mirth redeems With sheer magic the near-experience brings; You fluttered in my every reverie, As though a
In the tiny truths behind the hidden words and blood streaked cheeks, you drink ozone in deep layers. I will count all my sins and light the candles in a row. On the pillow of moon, night slept in half-slumber.