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!
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
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
Maybe we romanticized hurt and pain because we were always taught that the moon and the sun were meant to be together despite being so far apart and we too desire to be so magnificent that all the broken people
Just before the darkest hour I saw a dawn breaking there was this angel standing she looked withered and tired. her wings ruffled and torn I got up to help but she yelled stop don’t hurt me anymore I can’t
My every utterance is a lie, forged in silence, it is I who steals and plunders gold and silver. My pact is with the darkness. Wounds and blows, I have dealt, yet no remorse have I felt for sons mangled
On this so cold night Laying alone I ponder How warm the bed would have felt With you having in here. Your legs wrapped around mine Spooning, curves settled so perfect That’s why it’s said “made magically for each other”.
Please write this on my gravestone, Spring, March, flowers of ’82, You too must remember me, Unrivalled, but unrivalled I could not be, Tunes untuned to hear it gash, Water rips my inner soul instead, Silence too shouts deep within,
From time Immemorial,I am saviour of millions life, I am lifeline to your daily needs , Cities ,towns grew on the bank of mine. I feed you I quench your thirst I provide enlightment to you I am the reason
He and I (a subtle amateur attempt at understanding Narcissism) He loved himself and I loved him He believed he was superior and I was happy to be his shadow He wanted all the attention and I always showered it
I need not want to know for it, a dirty mind of lateral conjugation; of uncharted hopes. The name splits the long story. Everyone had a stain on chest, color roiling the heart. Dancing on the cocktail grass, they started
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
Dream on all ye decedents of Kunta Boldly go wherever you dared to go Be happy ,sing aloud Hakunamatata Dream of the precious gems of Congo Dream on Africa ,Dream Mr .Kenyatta . Dream on all ye daughters of Africa
Her favorite French word despite She hated the devices themselves Gutless spiders, she’d say, all legs Appetites for unwary heads, lop them off. As a compromise she didn’t own any hats Just a few holdover rain bonnets A pair of
The blood on the streets Homes broken apart Everyone shouting for the help of God The horn is blown And the Civilians and soldiers set their guns and weapons Bullets elevating through the air into the body Children crying in
Madness burns like a candle Blustery night haunted with Anna No clover or wild grass grows No laughter sighs in the wind Only the moan like a cemetery The sea wrestles with ghosts I have drowned in sorrow Sanity has
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
Well MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU from my house to yours, I pray it’s the best Christmas you could ever hope for but don’t forget it’s not all about the presents under the Christmas tree no it’s really more about the
Fahrenheit mid twenties on dole skint Saturdays bordered in black and white diamond linoleum. Lost in days. I acridly observe the English countryside on a coffee table pamphlet. My minds unbridled in those munching country lanes. But sometimes it’s Lost,
Power empowers a man To wear a crown of office A symbol of high status That stuffs man with vitality That differs him from equality. A crown of material value May dwindle as the human body Shrinks as to the
It’s an adjustment, everyone says, life is to adjust Without questioning, what this adjustment means to anyone. Keep silent, when the other-end goes on shouting and argue For or against, do agree, whatever the other end demands, Without asking why
The fear is creeping inside with every single step I take Seems like everyone is going to hurt and their sympathies are fake With broken dreams and a heavy heart, I still hope to find solace Though in the past,
Why the heartburn, why the despondency why the delusional self, why the desperateness why the flutter of heart, why the breathlessness why the agony of loss, why the desolation why the wild flight of imagination why the unfulfilled dreams why
Beauty has shape contour curve and weight With my hand on your breast I feel sublime and safe I showed you these words and you said You can title it “Thanks for the Mammaries” And we both laughed It’s good