Overjoyed poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of overjoyed poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on overjoyed are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
I am over joyed at his accepting me as worthy of his Love Oh my heart beat, please stop for a while as I have to reconcile to the fact that I have found my dream Life partner I am
They called me a lunatic They told that my ideas were unrealistic They concluded that my opinions were inappropriate They condemned me that I was doomed to hell I knew that I was sane I told myself that my ideas
Dear father, Have you seen your daughter lately? You are missing a lot. You have missed a gamut of Her cuteness. I see her daily in my classroom, And she is growing into A wonderful young lady. She is smart.
I am self destructive. I am corrupted. The thoughts in my head are disruptive. My heart is in void. I was toyed and destroyed. This love was overjoyed. You left me torn. The only thing you left for me to
I came home happy, very delight and much overjoyed, With true hopes that might come true but before shattered. For one I was so excited but I went on path God led, My dreams were like clothes when dried in
She did know what she felt in a moment She was overjoyed and heartsick at the same time She would never tell how she perceived She would stay quiet, calm and decided to keep it to herself She had lost
I could see him leave, leaving me alone. I weep and cry, not showing it at all. I think about him, every minute, every second, every moment. Where is he now? I wonder… Has he found someone better, than me?
If I were a Book, On the shelf, I would be overjoyed to meet new people everyday. Some would flip through, Some would read through. The fact that I would enter a reader’s mind, brings thrills. The thought that one
As I entered into the realm of dark And stifled for a moment to hark The dead souls that had turned into ghosts Who wanted me to hold and not embark Into the realm of dark But I proceeded without
Faith is like passing through the path of thorns But without being his dress torn or being inured This is how a faithful survives and just adorns Against all non believers who are heretic ,absurd Faith is a force which
Watching as half my existence has passed And all that is left are memories, that on my brain have been cast The rest of my age will find strength in autumn and winter remembrance As I wander through the freshness
Solo, I am clock maker born September 22nd, a Virgo/Libra mix insane, look at my moving parts, apart yet together, holes in air, artistic perfection, mechanical misfits everywhere, life is a brass lever, a wordsmith, an artist at his craft.
LET’S GET IT ON any which way you desire it doesn’t matter to me let’s just get it on oh baby, baby, baby and do it all night long LET’S GET IT ON, LET’S GET IT ON… your place or
Here we go everyone,clapping singing Merrily around the bonfire Festivity bells in the ringing Enjoying winter to the fullest Praises we are all For the carnival of harvest call Rich poor celebrate with their fellow Leave all gates adoor and
A waft of breeze touched my face. A puff of scent filled my senses. You brushed my hand, Gently, as you walked passed. I turned. Tranced. Bewitched. My eyes followed. I saw you over those busy shoulders. Your blue shirt.
Save Us!!! What Immortal hand or eye, Could have created the wonder oh my!! Amidst the dark and dingy sly, Killed, bruised and left to die! it hurts to see when the numbers dwindle, our hearts wither in pain and
Birth of an infant is akin to that of a plant combination of sperm count results in formation of an infant planting of the seed and nurturing it results in creation of plant Infant grows in the womb of mother
Fair Angels of Olympus, Muses Nine, That on its snowy summit gay recline, With other gods and haply the cynosure Of poets whom inspires your sacred ewer, O’erflowed with the ambrosial Hippocrene, The haunt of daughters of Mnemosyne. And Father
Respect her She is a woman , Respect her is must . She isn’t less than a man. Respect her or else your heart should rust. What would they do without her who greed only for “brothers”? Bring out that
It all begins with God and nature when we are born , and bring to every face a smile…, As we grow and enjoy the world , sing and dance – classical or freestyle…. We forget and consume every grain
Last night I dreamed but not of Manderlay. It was instead of the Oak Ridge Cemetery, in Springfield where death evokes life. The moon bathed everything with its silvery beams making it easy to find my way through row upon
In tottering penetration of blue summer you become silent game. I accept my defeat from stones falling on intellect. Carbon fear of rosewood was rising to reintegrate illicit love of twilight. Testing the waters, before a swim in prophecies I
That smile… ooh, that smile. It has its own style… taming the wild. Bringing out the child within an old soul. That smile has its own glow … an independent show. Among the undeserving … that smile just keeps on
God is waiting condensed within the church for the mosaic of belief to arrive. a mile away the minister is loosely holding the steering wheel of his aged sedan stunned by visions of dazzling supermarket aisles barking abundance and glittering
Dark is the shadow that fell Dark is the alley in which the shot rang Deep is the abyss in which he fell No echo to be heard of his scream No reverberations from the hard fall No body suits,
Ice cold tears running down from my face but they turn slowly into beautiful flowers My eyes light up this dark and rainy place and suddenly I’ve got back my strong powers I know for now that nothing is changed
Let the little bud gloom its petals, Let the cuckoo fly, Let the stream join the river, Let the vapour go high, Let the new leaves grow, And let them fall as they dry, Let the child play with sand,
It happens so often, that i forget the coffin. Forget the existence of the end, when I’ll lay engraved beneath the land. Forget that one day i’ll be all alone, all that I’ve known, will be unknown At some moments
Now that Armistice has passed One Hundred Years this time I wonder what those boys would think If today, they were alive? Through all their years of valour Experiences and pain To fight for King and Country I hope it’s
The sea is stormy Like my mind, The tide of thoughts Ebbs and flows Just like the waves That lashes the shore. My thoughts are wild The sea is stormy Neither can be contained Within their periphery But have to
My useless body, looks outside the window. Sees the pleasant nature, comes a wish to run across the velvet grass. The lovely rain makes me jealous, of children splashing in the puddles. Once I want to wander, explore the fragrant
I know what fire is, I’ve felt the embers within my heart So I know what desire is. I know what the weight upon my heart is, Everything feels so redundant now, So I know what sadness is. I know
The cook was in the kitchen The gardener trimming vines I went down to the cellar To fetch a case of wine I came back to the parlor And much to my surprise There stood Master Pennbrook Right before my
As you ponder what I think, ask me if you dare Pause and come to me, and see that I really do care Many think that I am a mystery; others stand and stare Those who heartily believe, and love
I love… Paris in the summer, Bombay in the rains Cotton candy clouds, trees drooping over river bends Rickety trains, Topsy-turvey roller coasters Mountain mists, seeing the ocean meet the sky Rainbows (even without the pot of gold), loud thunder
From the edge of a green valley I stood Looking into the abyss of a fate So dark I could not see what issue would Prevail in my life, not anticipate The consequence that would follow the choice I felt
Through the half-opened semi-drawn window, I hear your chants every morning inflow. Your voice, your rhythm the song and the tune it’s all so mesmerizing, I can’t decipher a word, but my mornings are revitalizing. You live quite nearby though
His memory brims my eyes The fuzziness engulfs me Jams my mind A rising dull ache The longing to feel him Connected and close By words by presence by voice In a lame chatter In nothing that is matter Behind
After you grind your mind, You create to center on For a sensation, emotion; That occurs on a surface. A sensational radiation Brings the body and mind, Then, you begin to perceive All energy on or in your body This
When I was a raven, I flew out of the night, My ebon wings flashed and glistened in the light. The wind it held me high and carried me away, But not a soul would listen to the words I