Pretense poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of pretense poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on pretense are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Confined to these walls guardians surrounding my transparent figure created to serve you I am the eye that is not part of you you come to me blind, uncertain, unknowledgeable seeking to know beauty, ugly but my sight surpasses that
Life is a beautiful collage, Of intricately interwoven, Threads of memories- A significance of Life! It furls and unfolds, As time ticks by, Patterns of astonishing beauty- With memories of Life. A mulled collage of different hues, Enticed to flutter
Why utter words, Not meant in reality, But to show out, A mask of fallacy. Reflection of actions, Speak the truth, Showing the pretense, Making me a fool. In a sea of words, Inconsistency of actions, I make a puddle,
As I sit across and gaze into those beautiful eyes, Its all so pure, no pretense without any guise. A faithful alliance I see, A dedication that never deserted me. An individual who loved without reasons, A person who did
Through oceans of tears comes the Smile on the face, The Smile that struggles to find its place, The Smile that masquerades the hurt and pain, A strong pretense, that never goes in vain. A wave of nostalgia begins to
The apparitions of a lost mind From the dark corners of my apoetic void mind I have come to realize as I look into their eyes That it’s my right to live life bright Like every night because every finish
A year gone by & just a few days since we met Strong feelings and emotions surfaced With a willingness to connect Unsure if your body or your heart wants more You play the game, you chose to ignore Subtlety
Come with me,let’s wither away to eternity Across the shore …to the moon, Surpass the darkest night , till heat of noon , fly over the meadows , from horizon to the dawn , let’s complete the circle of life
Differences do in fact come and go Only to find that time does slow Young, old, it does not matter Only for yourself do you live Unyielding for nothing, extremely trivial. Something is telling me, and I know Extra credit
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
breathless light of illumination with blank canvas he begins to create a myraids of fixed visions angelic fervor of exploration a brush stroke with colors red, yellow & green at the top of the canvas a yellow stream vast radiant
Respect has no face, no color, no race, It should be given to everyone by everyone. Respect should not require one to divert from their own morals and values, It should not depend on your amount of income or the
I. If all lives mattered, then Black lives would matter. And blood on a street in Ferguson, MO would not have been splattered; And a body would not have lay there unattended for four and a half hours after. II.
Rotten wrought iron gate, opens to a compound in decay, nature trying to encroach on what was stolen from her, the dilapidated walls, the creepers gone haywire, the smell of bereavement, the stone bench covered by moss, no place to
Live life not with cowardice But live it heroically Heroism needs no trumpet Nor does it need a stunning physique Heroism is bejewelled In simplicity Heroism does not boast Heroism never condescends Heroism takes care Heroism does not mean being
You are like red sea in a rough mood Excellence of your beauty makes you more rude Your innocence and youth make you more crude Fire of love makes your beauty more nude Your curly hair makes my heart up
He sat on the floor of his old room, his back Against the wall – everything was gone And the room said nothing though it had heard everything He’d ever said or thought, declared or mumbled under his breath The
Complexion and hair he possesses are bright We can compare him to a film black and white Nay, he has no cooling equipment at home Although cushion and mattress made of foam He is a writer and became my friend
On your face the shadow of a transparent wound bungles the capricious climate of the death of a thought which you could not carry very far. And that was all when I asked you some questions about life. You started
Ah! woke up again and I realized, her baby is prettier than her eyes, and looks picture perfect with her hubby in! Then why do I still feel her eyes, staring? and her tender voice clearer than ever! her beauty
As I stare at the empty skies, I hear myself amidst the solitude of night. I close my eyes and think deep About my faith and identity at risk. I am caught in the whirlwind of emotions, Fear, anger, desire
It is night again, And the darkness wakes it all up. Rooms left to collect, the dust of Fault and dissent, and the Forgotten madness of bygone days. We have created so much with nothing, And done nothing with so
Ouroboros is its own meal The same is true with Those from own country that steal! To hamstrung the incumbent Most party members are not hesitant. Ouroboros,they adore their party, Which they obliviously or Otherwise sully with A rent-seeking identity.