Peel poems bring the best collection of short and long peel poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great peel rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these peel poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on peel are here for you.
Don’t tell on me, but yes, I can’t breathe no more, This smile concealing my frightened soul, I can’t take no more, Don’t tell on me; have lost myself in all these, I’m just a walking robot, no one sees
Heavenly peace is not here we say, But that’s not true, Strong people always dominate a prey, But that’s not true. Like fingers are different though reside together, We all are different but made of same leather, Laughing, loving and
It was a photograph, as old as Their marriage, of both of them. His face radiating her fulsome bliss, Now eroded, tarnished and frayed At the edges, slowly, yet surely. Trying to tear him out of mind, She turned over
he never used a typewriter yet the tendons in his wrist twitched like metal typebars, fleet, oily, tapping awful messages when he was supposed to be at rest – his eyelids answered as if scanning for answers those desolate webpages
Painted peeptoes look up to me winking through their narrow slits, see me flit and traipse around towards my errands that I must run. Cut and peel and cook and clean scrub and wash squeaky clean, mirrors and glasses polished
Come carving our names nettle suckers by the tallest fake plastic trees. Dangle thy fidgeting worm to a hungry, a vile, fishy fiend. Raggedy man says I’m on a thin line. Naked feet on a take a hollow stage Effortless
Driving my car across the country, numerous years ago, going to a new place, Changing who I’d know A loud bang broke the boredom and blue smoke filled the air, engine was A ’knocking, a sound beyond compare I rolled
On that grimy Grimsday morn, The grumble deep and culby, There came a tinker-pick inside His appence crink and bulby. In thrumped a jangle-mangle man, With his coat and hat so hangled, His hair a-plot, his peepers piped, At the
Leaves will grow out your chopped skin; Petals that peel off from that cut in between your legs, whispering fragrances through those shattered lips – Those bones knocking at the edges of your transparent envelope. Bird eyes, tainted livid –
The world is a nasty-looking fruit, With a skin made of TV screens, Of omnipotent mouths spitting out hate. Through your ears and eyes, they always creep in. But there’s a way to survive, a way to tread evil’s waters.
Small things were, Witness to genes- Of freak mutation. Tooth in eye, Becoming boat in blindness. Witch hazel, Fails to stop leakage. Thumb with beads of lymph – Stung high in stillness, Wants to peel off, The concept of injury.
”Shards Of Happiness” Happiness and contentment The best gifts of God, happiness Glitters in innumerable shards Writing verses gives immense Pleasure to bards, their quills are like the golden rods. Happiness is like a broken crystal ball, broken into pieces
Graveyard of stillbirths. I am walking on severed legs. She was pushed off a moving train. Could not be raped. No I don’t see any sickly aberration. It was ossification of stunted intellect. Who was desperate to exit the hazy
It’s like breathing: At odd times you become aware – Not after jogging up seven floors Or escaping an accident With exhilaration, not regret, Those times are givens – Rather existing within a crowd In the audience before a play
The sprawling mangrove forest shifted away from the giant concrete thoroughfare that has come to traverse through their murky habitation. Their host of wild mammals and their uncut barbaric lifestyle have retreated farther to their dense recluse of primitivity. New
Life’s all phases are boredom Except the youth – the handsome. The only stage full of chasm Is none than of Soldier’s column. Here we are full of sound strum Which separate us from scum. Our experience is a bit
All the talk, murmurs rushing from room to room anxious dogs unable to please, dark clothes, suppressed expressions, napkins and finger foods piling up, glasses clinking in the kitchen sink with no one around just the weight of all those
One haunting night, I traversed alone in a dark and lonely forest. The stars above did their best to guide me, But the canopy of branches blocked their light. The sorrow-filled cries of wolves filled the silence, And my heart
Even when the night air is calm and still you can hear the wailing of women from the past that flung themselves off of WIDOW’S HILL to the cold, cold ocean below and legend has it at Collinwood they’re waiting
Let’s paint these walls red, With the blood of our dead. Of the lost and wounded, the sad and depressed. Let’s paint that chair green, With the leaves of the trees. The trees cut down, every day, week, month, year.
The small woman from the attic sits cross-legged with her pink plastic hair rollers for hours. Her life spins like the spool of thread on the sewing machine. She sleeps wearing a flowery morning gown in the room with a
Remember me, do you ? I was your shadow, a positive one Always by your side, concerned Giving energy to your soul while my soul was draining somewhere You told me you love me And I believed you blind I
The doubters will cross the coals after the raid. Apology will not be in attendance. Sitting on the throne of cold blooded assassination, do you think justice demands the revenge? Whom you are killing, the body or the spirit? Heads
There we met, at street seventy seventh; my friend who’d bowed down with altering features, and me with my clothes getting narrower. We could not find, in this chilly present, a tale to help us recline on the pavement’s stone.
Two souls come near Without feeling any fear Think about no other Including father and mother Sister and brother May often offer Little help In getting letters Replies are sent later Love game is in swing But it is in
Walking through the woods at night Not sure where I’m at The darkness I’m looking into Is overpowering A faint light from the sky Surges shyly through the blackness. But not sufficient for me To see where I am going
My heart is destitute for romance and passion I am uneasy in my skin of night blue out of balance way out there I’m insecure and wayward see people connecting I am alone except for my immediate family-a few friends