Peacefulness poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of peacefulness poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on peacefulness are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Peace-inner condition of mind- a quiet flowing river of invisible waves, sea wave of righteousness, money can’t buy. Peace-tranquility upon soul- calmness upon mind and body; those-you love-their home you make a resting place, your haters-upon them are disquiet and
So many nightmares too many nights where I’ve woken gasping grabbing at something anything to tether me to reality to prove I’m no longer dreaming knowing I’ll soon have to fall asleep again slipping back into the grasp of rapists,
Beside the river stood a Gulmohar tree, With buds and flowers bloomed thee, Beautiful flowers of colour red, Filled my mind in morning bed. My open window viewed as many, All the creatures without weary. Lovely were the flowers That
A steady mind does not exhibit emotions A disturbed mind often leads to irritation A happy mind feels Life as a Gods given gift to enjoy A sorrow mind feels no charm in leading the life An angry mind sees
The Argument The first canto proposes the entire subject matter through the first few lines, where is stated the tragic plight of those English people that went against Hades, the then wicked monarch of England, who, for the proclamation of
Family first, And old saying, As if from a western, Almost sounds rehearsed. Yet when I tip my cap, On this dusty afternoon, I appreciate the folks, Whom without life’s a lonely moon. When carrying across, Metaphorical plains, Dry and
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.
Full moon in the sky, curse of the werewolf on the rise And the poison runs through his veins and then The man becomes the beast once again… FULL MOON OVER WEREWOLF going in for the kill Tearing through the
When humanity first became aware, the world was a scary dangerous place. Everything was a mystery, nothing but survival at stake. We created gods to help us make sense. Gods became the catchall to explain the unknown. Gods became religions
All languages are just one word All life just one breath All waters are just one drop All sounds just one note All sorrow and pain All hurt and oppression Are just one side Of the same coin that’s flipped
Sometimes I wonder where that girl has gone, The one that everybody always seen, The one who would stand up and sing her song, Confidence was all they ever seen. Sometimes I wonder where that girl could be, The one
In rain washed night, When every thing is out of sight Because of hazy rainy splash seething the earth with drenched lash. Water gushes from lane to lane As if his filled glass has broken on plain And trickles on
People with greed and selfishness rule this world of umpteen wonder The one who burns within himself for not digesting the prosperity of the other is recognised as a good Human being Living for oneself is not living at all
It burrows deeper in the covert recess of pain, shunning violence of light: the epicenter of Armageddon, giving collective death to providence in a proxy war. The collasal gossip rests on the river of ashes, deflects the incredible starved children
Like rains in spring they came to us A blessing they were to us Like extra-terrestrials we treated them Not knowing that all they wanted was to help We always turned our backs on them Our right hand they were
In the often abject monotony of life, Amidst all the trials and troubles that abound, I asked the Lord, who is my Creator, “Why am I forsaken, God? Alone, with no one to hold close? Who shall I turn to
A tiny little bee buzzing on a tree flutters its wings inspecting every flower for the divine nectar! A tiny little ant scurries its way waving its feelers inspecting every particle if it is its food! A chirping little sparrow
Welcome, welcome I’ve waited for you. Now pray tell, what did you do? Walk passed the hungry, ignoring you knew? Or was it more sinister thought through and well planned? I see you have blood smeared on your hands. You
The Legend of Procris and Cephalus. based on a painting in the London National gallery “A satyr mourns the death of a nymph “, painting by Pierro de Cosimo Who is this maiden sleeping here This beauty she is dead
The dark clouds are rolling in quickly, wild wind blows fast and fiercely Many leaves and twigs start twirling around and circling Feeling like Edgar Allen Poe, In the distance I can hear some echo’s Of many dog’s barking in
A chaotic moments we did face, Filled with tension and bubbling of heads; Here the shouting came, There the things flew. Any day was emergency, Any day was important. Lamps did burn all night through, No food we did touch.
Revelation Brevity of words; No rhyme within its reason. Haiku uncovered. Caught Out Summer rain spatter, Unsettled dusky maiden. Parasol resort. Crow Proclaimers of death; charcoaled anonymity. Murderous union. Prelude to a Fall Bitter autumn wind, Sinks teeth into summer’s
You are not history, You are the victory. You were even not selected in air force, But you commanded all armed forces. You had a vision, You completed impossible mission. You are not only a guide, You are india’s pride.
Born into a world full of complex conditions, an ever changing tangled web of confusing contradictions. To live; to thrive; to barely survive oppressive commands from the central hive. When the ashes settle; when no chill breezes blow, only then
Beautiful golden haired Autumn Angel Don’t look so sad tonight, if the man you Gave your heart to isn’t here tonight Then do you really need him in your life? If you want my opinion, you deserve A whole lot
I drift by through life letting not its stones hurt me I indulge myself in daydreams by wrapping myself in a cloud of soft memories. I take a book, a mug of coffee Sit in the rain listening to melodies
once it breaks then mends again it’s never quite the same the wall goes up…uninviting less willing to play the game remain on guard don’t lose yourself don’t give it all away tread cautiously don’t assume be mindful what you
Time flies, gentlemen I know! Those days of pleasure and satisfaction Those moments of mischief and appreciation Those times of puberty and perseverance All those hours have gone But remain in the mind, to be remembered tomorrow. Those days of
The night that breeds dark clouds of rankling dolour Within azure sky of my mind’s great earth, Delusive affection of thine enlivened fervour, Of joy of life and lustre triggers dearth. Thou rememb’rest those fragrant ways trodden, Back i’th’ longest
Soil, Don’t be fertile more, Don’t be a mother; Child-traffickers, like mad dogs, are moving everywhere. Don’t conceive any green more, Don’t conceive any forest; The blue-eyed woodcutters, like butchers, are sharpening their axes. O Soil, Rather become a desolate