Orthodox poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of orthodox poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on orthodox are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
And now you sit dumbstruck, being a vivid orthodox lion, you speak to the world that you are too sweet, with your creative and imagining mind. But I tell you child, ‘dreaming’ and ‘imagining’ are not synonymous words. They stand
The shape of space inside my head is relative to boundless loss of antiquity. The wind consists of exceptional conflict. Imminent force, which describes a hazard of sorts, wrapped in a hard-shelled skeleton. Orthodox doctrine originates with the ancestors, descendants
Ladies and gents, You don’t know Jack. Hence I wax poetic To remedy that. Jack has a knack For following the pack. This fool dives in the pool To swim with the rules. He doesn’t judge it lame To remain
The need of the hour is peace As the consequences of war are not like breeze Countries are grouping, so are the citizens Unity is strengthening, but, against other unions Deployment takes place to deplore another state The death of
Mom’s the word…A BIRTHDAY TRIBUTE She was the eighth child out of the ten born to the high-profile session judge couple; She spent her childhood amidst her siblings in a traditional orthodox environment with an aristocrat touch in her lifestyle.
Ephemeral landscapes Anything for an ethereal escape. Through trodden lands come fatuous perceptions. As though materials fade behind the shadowy hem of night, Hasty winds succumb through numerous violations. Empty space here, concrete expressions of plight Downward facing valleys may
“O you woman! Why do you after all submit To who that ever hurts and hits, Causes you only sufferings Distresses are his offerings. And gives you nothing Except tongue-lashes And choicest accusations? What after all do you get From
South America we’re up so high a kind of disintegratory layer some alchemist’s dream elements penetrating each other a stink of stone flows from the window I’ve been sick a week my flight left the only person who speaks to
Each night, the universe Writes its’ story On the surface Of the moon Using starlight As its’ pen, And deliberately Makes some words To fall on earth That is poetry The immutable self Afraid of its’ loneliness Thinks itself To be many And
You bloom in my heart like a beautiful rose in summer. You cherish my spirit and give me the sense of delight. Your innermost dreams and incredibly zany desires Are so fantastic and bright. Your radiant smile is wonderful, gorgeous,
A transient smile lights up a moonless landscape, catalyzing the woes of labour of hot arguments. A fragile peace prevails. When the plot thickens let me count the bodies in the domain of a wasted god. Meanwhile I will get
High in the Cascade Mountain Range, camped in a wilderness cathedral. Overlooking a vast expanse of wilderness, only meters back from the edge of a sheer precipice. Admiring the shear beauty of a brilliant double rainbow, bridging this vast void.
first I woke the birds clumsy steps on crumbling asphalt it was the antidepressants an undiagnosed chemical stroke my mood uplifted my right foot dragging on occasion tripping over carpet or in this case turd-black pebbles clattering waking hidden birds
A lame duck re-emerges from water of life, after paying for night of clouds. The sex determines the economy of a nation and democracy writes the future of a man. Who was bankrupt in poor country of rich people? You
Black and white, our favorite colors I write to feel alright, but it’ s hard to write right, my favorite duress, its my plight and it lasts all through the night even during the day sometimes, even to date but
There’s a big room in the house- It has many doors. Colourful lights reach my eyes, From underneath those doors: Red, then green, …blah blah blah. An old snap on the southern wall- It doesn’t pull me anymore. There’s a
Dark surrounding me, encompassing me, suffocating me blackness filling my lungs with sorrow, pain, while hope deserts me leaving me weak, fragile, forlorn. Dank, musty air reminiscent of decaying ancient tombs echo the horror I feel as my breath becomes
There are some cracks in the pavement; there are some rules to ignore; there are some people you don’t understand and them you but you both know the score. There are fragments of amazement; there are policemen at the door;
Vines entwined, in engrossing weaves. Lush green branches, on archaic trunks. A specter familiar, charmingly exotic, Gazing I stand, recollecting the years. A vision, of some evening, eons back.. Kids’ playful frolic, and cheers lively. Carefree days, romping round the
Welcome…to the 5th world of mysticism well I see A Crystal Vision and consulting my big black book of Miracles to recite the incantation you need tonight with A wave of my hands and a flash of light I change
Hey , you awesome mountain stream ! Dashing out on a playful spree Allow me to join your great journey From the sky high hills to the level of sea Mesmerised by your magical appearance My heart has always sought
Even should Lawrence expiate the pity Describe in metaphor as he will the fig and snake None of this is as anything to this Two centuries later exceeding the equal of the take I mean, what goes through your mind
Life, the very essence of our being. It is inevitable that we all must walk this journey. What we forget is that we are not on this journey alone. Even the nature surrounding us has its own life cycle. Our
Between she and he and sexuality swoops a gender patenting a word, as it is, at the birth’s door pretending to be a kiss of radical thought. Mediocrity always has an intentionality with colored plumage, a passionate dance before the
Though I clearly see Paralleling traits, Corresponding facets Astonishingly quaint, This complex, albeit moving, Prominent connection, Holds a minute blemish Worthy of reflection. Contrast, yes there’s one, A distinction can be drawn, For you’re rarely right, While I’m never wrong!
“At least eighty dead,” is all you’ve said…. As that charred colossus, Grenfell, towers overhead. The hopes and fears of those you loved, Dead. Those missing, without mention, who died, without dying, who cried, without crying. The faceless, euphemised headlines
The skin drifts: explores the trash: Atlast the path was liberated. Each leaf becomes a face of a felled tree outside the wisdom; you make death on water. Accidental – reversal of pathology, a hospital expires in bed; peace was
How foolish. How sad. How awful. When can they stop acting they don’t know? When can they stop pretending that they are not hurting others? They can kill me physically. Or hurt me emotionally. But, I am not the one
Love dances in the glitter of her smile, Reflections of the promise in her eyes, Unfolding slowly, wishful to beguile, To give away what silence oft denies; Yet, words despoil the essence of the act; Is not a sigh enough
Pain, why must you stay? I thought you would leave, In a mere day. Pain, I despise you, You consume my emotions, As stubborn as glue. Pain, we have known each other, For quite sometime, If I was a dim-lit