Possibilities poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of possibilities poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on possibilities are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Lying under the blanket of stars, I see so much more. I see myself riding the horse past the full moon On a clear starlit night. I see the possibilities of tomorrow, Shining bright. I see myself running alive among
I have put the darkness behind the burning flesh. This world was not very open. Stoically I lift the nameless grief and take a leap in the blind shaft. Morality had always been in contrast with enormous guilt. The adventure
Simmering on a distant shore, my minds eye floats upon. Swirling thought upon swirling thought do my reflections grow. Infinite realms offer fertile grounds to burrow through. Mountains of realities the minds eye sees one as real as them all.
Assume for one minute that the world was healed again,strong, though creeping veins and ventricles, unclogged their own blockages and once again it’s you who can sing and live again presume you are well again,and again ,celebrating the night and
Abstraction has become a constant routine. Contemplating not knowing what to do or who to become, had became a life’s affair. Coming up with disparate possibilities on what to do in life, I came up with: Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.
” If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe.” —Carl Sagan It’s all in there, waiting, just waiting in the time before time, the universe, our universe, packed unimaginably tight, indistinguishably tight,
The mother knows compassion and grants permission the father accepts responsibility and manifests reality the child is born and experiences god directly the adolescent unfortunately forgets its connection to the divine the teacher shares self-evident truths and growth occurs the
Dying piece by piece in shock – a life without a mutiny. Walking amidst blue kraits you never raised the stick. Of extinct possibilities in the night of unmanned crossing- the blood streaked globe goes on revolving round the blazing
Within the imagination I am content to live This is my stay I see how plenty, how ever-expanding it is The ‘All’ a rich array Of ever-rotating colors with which to paint And never fade away This is my stay
(1) At ‘Bab Al-nairab gate’,(1)on a pile of wet smoke, I meet a sackcloth, a muddy bear fur and two women; one holds by her amputated palm the tail of ‘Sayf Aldawla’s(2) robe, the other sings a rocky song. The
Something ominous and undefined, illustrative and versatile. Something ambiguous, and something so subtle it hardly exists. Almost is all these things and more. It occupies life around its every corner. It is the grey between the blacks and whites, The
“Foolish Heart” The reflection of ourselves is what we look For in others that is where A mere Connection is born whether if It is tainted wickedness or pure kindness Just the thought alone that we can’t remain frozen over
There is far too much evil in this long misused world, too much force-fed fear. Too many bent and broken lives adrift on a torrent of tears. Too many innocent children being brainwashed in too many crowded halls. Pointless graffiti
It was my childhood, Beyond those memories, When I cross, I get to see that ocean, That never came out, Out of those boundaries, Boundaries of lashes, Lashes hiding behind, Behind all those smiles, Smiles that were meant to cry,
Beautiful eyes Imagine falling in love with someone you have never seen. Would you give your heart away to a mystery? What if you could fall head over heels, do you think you would try? Or would you run away
We are socialized to obsess. Urban dictionary claiming it a synonym to the lost verb motivated. Treasure hunters for the GOLD at the end of the not so rainbowed pathway. Cartographers. Our lives a premeditated meditated analyzed strategic journey, consulting,
What is truth? We live our lives being told what is true. Truths in science fall by the wayside when new “truths” are discovered. But, how true are they? Religions will tell you their truths. Problem is few agree. So
Some say we live in a computer simulation. A simulation run by others further along. Our sentients is just as real as theirs. “I think therefore I am.” If this is true, what do we do? Some interesting possibilities could
I am a man with an Unreservedly positive frame of mind. Knowing that frames are fatefully important As matter and metaphor. I wear shirts chiefly made of roomy pockets Trope for optimism And space for the melange of likelihoods, On
When taking a line of action, important is to discuss, decide, understand and realize everything that is going on in the mind at the present moment in time. Most importantly over a period of time, present will become a thing
(1). At that morning, I wrote on the blackboard with white chalk: when negative collides with positive, it becomes cloudy; When two negatives meet, it clears up; When two positives meet, it lightens until they fight on top of a
I used to think that fish In little bowls and aquariums Were pitiful prisoners of men Deprived of freedom Defined by frontiers Hindered by limits But now I know that fish Might be happy in their prisons Able to explore
Blasting my senses with lasting noise, The heat of the moment through pain and joy, A testament of strength to hold on tight, Another day gone and another left to fight. Pass me your glances of scorn or praise, Make
Shylock and Portia, in a court-scene, One to shed blood, and the other Not to shed blood, on one and the same condition, To be true to the court, in favor of justice, On rules and regulations, against Antonio, A
I saw you walking down the road Into the mundane Could I hold you back a little into a diversion a moment of indulgence unpredictably startling smile on your face and a sweet memory that will make the mundane extraordinary..
Stop laughing Start crying Stop trying Start dying Giving up Now giving in All because you think you can’t win This race isn’t yours You don’t keep score Anymore You hit the floor You say “I can’t and won’t take
Tired feet, aching head, teary eyes, weary heart’ I don’t need another heartbreak, I can’t take another heartache but we need one another. There are things you remember and there are things you can not forget like when a girl
My name is Richa… Does it really matter?! It could’ve been Mala …Seema…Sita..Nirbhaya or even Chabili.. In the end I would’ve been married to a much older man.. or abandoned after impregnating in a forest.. I wash utensils …clean floors..
Spring, its earthy smell is everywhere Shouts of children, gleefully at play Adults too, liberated at last from playing solitaire Lakes, once frozen and cold, now awake Reflecting glimmering shards of golden light Streams freed from their icy prisons, gurgle
Life is so much like a ship in a stormy sea, Always dicey and hard. You have to become a smart sailor, In order to make your way through those thunderous yet subtle waves. It checks you time and again,
Do you think it’s the end? the wild waves foaming over the gardens of paradise the sinners still floating The rich getting richer the poor slobbering in poverty down the dark trails of doom homeless and starving Do you think
Icarus’ ashes Fight with the sun And only for a moment Magic ignites a frosty world Locked in time The first flake falls Caught in rays parting clouds The drying breath of the receding sun Held by frost By the