Outlook poems bring the best collection of short and long outlook poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great outlook rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these outlook poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on outlook are here for you.
Sitting in the examination room paper crackling under your naked spine the worm of doubt working its way through your pipes just about falling asleep white noise strong as medicine honing the edge of your fever there’s a double tap
Positive out look creates confidence drives out fear balance the mind drive one to success Negative out look lose the confidence drive in fear imbalance the mind sure to end up in failures Balanced out look tries to be steady
What makes a person wise? Reaching for the skies? The schemes they devise? Or knowing life’s true prize? I’ve heard early to and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy and wise. If being wise is showing experience, good
I’m no fun anymore, Not to be with or even around, I bitch-spewing hate is my second Favorite thing to do, Only topped by drinking, Reeking of cigarettes and whiskey, And I like dim places where the outlook is Bleak,
Black is the epitome for darkness, An all thinks desolate and bleak. Purple gives us the incentive- the hope what we seek. Pastel yellow is the sun Which glistens our day, While blue is the color Of the scintillating bay
I sleep to your sweet lullaby Composing songs of intoxicated love. And I look at our reflections on roads left wet from thirsting rain; Our love – laced between twisted bodies and entwined fingers that smell of the musky clouds
A thousand dreams I have experienced and all were better than my reality Forty years I have lived on this planet and all I believe in is eternity Not for the body of course but for the soul that searches
We are encrypted likenesses of reality born out of trust between blankness and fingertips when knowledge leads and potential follows folding and rolling and bending. Intricate patterns, cumbersome schemes are woven into our souls. Tension within us aches for release.
How colourful is Bhakti- The yoga of devotion and fidelity It has a blend of various Emotions and relations In the yoga of devotion God can be your parents God can be your friend God can be your lover God
Faint is my expression, out of breath, chastised and drowned in whirl pools of confusion. Neither here nor am I there, in the clouds or the bottom of the ocean, whirl pools of confusion. A year be a day, an
Why did you have to come in this world to become a medical waste? There was no urgency to dropp in and then remain unnoticed, with no symptoms of life. Later scooped by a dumper you are thrown on garbage.
I have finally come to the spot Where the rubber meets the road. Where you open your eyes But cannot see. Any farther than the grave. Many years of struggle and pain. A story with a beginning, A miserable middle,
Oh deep, dark depression, my uninvited guest, the persistence of oppression is precluding my life’s zest. The dark before sunrise of a dawn that just won’t break, suppressed by a thirst for my soul that only sorrow can now slake.
This bonded fear bids for power, Will I destroy myself in valley of puppets? War in dreams, of sins and morals of masked pretentions wears me off. Time rolls violently near the periphery, before it flies away. One chaste run
Vexed at a long sit in, after collision we will meet at a canal in the watery grave. You believed in philosophy of giving I would apologize for the slaughter of babies. Pink dolls I wished to know why they
The depression, human brand was trapped. They were talking about the nukes. To annihilate the earth. It was elemental, I said. An ardent fan of moon. A lark asks who will survive? ————————————— The depression, human brand was trapped. They
I had a very close friend that once disappeared She’d gone missing a long time, for many years Fled one night to another state far away And hid incognito somehow to stay She left suddenly with her tow-headed daughter and
Our age is a deciduous tree, sheds yellow desires every year makes room for new ones in the spring of opportunity. Some desires resemble oak leaves, cramped and brown- still cling in mothers’ bosoms like our plans, albums, possessions. Alas,
It crashed like a chandelier my dream. Becoming wet, into unhealing existence. I was expecting a landfall by burst of flames. Grieving for a lost generation, a meaningless exit from the stage of bites and suffering. Can you reverse this
Like seasons, friendship too changes, As it varies from different ranges. All of a sudden it is bleak, As if it has lost its magic streak. With the passage of time, And this drift at its prime; Has indeed led
What is it that binds, In the passing of time, By invisible chords, That time can’t wear off? As strong and deep rooted A tie that can never snap, Holds the threads, That bind us together. A bond stronger, By
Venus-like from the ocean she rose Forcing a gasp from all those Who the seashore did frequent And their heart beat soaring sent. Liquid pools of blue were her eyes, A glance brought forth volcanic sighs, From the old and
By the mirror side she sat, On a small caned chair, Looking at the tall figure, Combing her long dark hair, Frown on the little face, To resolve her loneliness, A baffled look stared at her, A playmate she wanted
Somewhere between being expressive and fictitious I got lost. Never did it cross my mind such drama for nuance, Maybe am not that adroit; but lately you’ve been so vexatious, Delving into an endless rest- for a tinge of flattery
Today I want to take a lethal dose of black lips, confronting the killer on contract. Time dithers to escort. May be a cold-blooded murder of a handful of sick shadows will give a transparent memory. Planting a sad kiss
A 21st century apostle strove to ease our appalling quandary ameliorating the sensation sans being caught between the devil and the dark blue sea, This tethered to the oblate spheroid earthling doth strive toward savoir-faire re: As the fickle finger
I want to laugh and laugh aloud, Like a free bird I want to discover every cloud, Want to cry and cry crisp, Keeping aside every sorrow I want to walk past brisk, Wander around in the streets for hours,