Procrastination poems bring the best collection of short and long procrastination poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great procrastination rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these procrastination poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on procrastination are here for you.
Oh procrastination How you’ll be the death of me You get worse and worse the closer I get to graduation I guess we’ll just have to wait and see If you get me put on academic probation After you arrived,
Aim to be the Master of Life. Heaven never waits; let’s take this today, before it’s gone like yesterday Every generation gets the grief, sure do we all; But the Master is he who doesn’t feel perplexed at all. One,
She stood on the lowest rung of the ladder Bereft of all good things in life. Her state of existence was conditioned by the divide That created a gulf between the haves and have-nots. The gulf showed no sign of
If you want happiness take two big bags and come into the magical world of poets will take you to a poetic market where symphony is heard in buying and selling they sell magical dreams and rainbows buy back your
You went blank on the line between sand and water, between seizure and assault. The tribes have unwrapped their torches, they are coming in numbers. Who was going on trial? Fierce fidelity is demanding vendetta. The drummer announces the fight.
That is how I injured myself desiring the right thing, extracting the reason from charity. I will now pluck off the rage, the silence, the exotica from the frozen valley. Words will become my foes swimming in your eyes. I
Oh my daughter Oh my little angel Don’t know how time flies Seems only like yesterday When you were placed in my waiting arms Hugging you close, seeing the tiny bundle of joy My own flesh my own blood Didn’t
I have been away a while, space, time to think, while in the thinking, think, that maybe we are too affected by today’s culture, media, in not thinking for ourselves. Beauty can be seen everywhere, yet some shout of ugliness.
Once I was obsessed with puerile dreams Radiant smiles used to flush my cheeks with beams Then despondence gripped me with glistening tears And pale solitude rolled in with mighty arrears. To ‘live the fullest and let live’ was my
I forgot, was it me in a body pile draped in dust, still hot, bruised, burnt, a mad megalomaniac starting a civil war, creating suicide bombers, young virgins inhaling death? This journey under the guns, displacing hapless thousands, will reach
All hail the King who gives thee numbers. Those who fear him shall stand beside him, And laugh with him, Only to be crushed by him like all other unsatisfactory numbers. Faces upon faces upon names upon names, Thrown into
Ever since I was woken up by weapons Ideological balloons are shooting at me. Scared by an advertisement dream I am hiding in reality Which is beating me with a bloody rod! To shoot or not to shoot – to
A thousand colors of heed, A thousand colors of need, A thousand words of greed, A thousand words to deed, A thousand days to waste, A thousand days to grace, A thousand reasons to wry, A thousand reasons to fly,
Seasons come, Seasons go, Past is forgotten, present is forgiven. Memories get aged, get ignored, Dreams are born, get matured And with every season new, A magic is unveiled. For the lengthier days, I wait for the winter to pass
What is made when lightning strikes? Is sand turned to glass like a heart kissed by love, for the first time. pure, clear, refracting rainbows in the corner right above your bed caught for a split second in the summer
You’ll often see them running and chasing across the plains, a rabbit skipping and laughing at an eagle, in great pains. But why’s the eagle running, surely he can fly? Sadly he’s afraid of heights and frightened he may die.
You don’t need makeup, or shirts that show your breasts. You don’t have to be scared or scarred. Please, please don’t starve. You don’t need to hide how intelligent you are; Or the fact that you want to be a
In the midst of hazy cloudy and misty morning she appeared like an angel looking at me and smiling.. For a moment It struck to me like an Lightening and my heart started beating the romantic tuning and was feeling
whispers… through the dark deranged portals you evoke fear filled with angelic fervor on it’s textual base yet we dig much deep then ever before cries in the dark will light the spark of what we need to know still
I saw the scene full of flowers and I saw the Actor choking, drowned in petals, leaves, which entered his mouth, nostrils, ears, covering him until nothing was left of him. Poor Actor. What a death! Smothered by the flowers
With scrunched and bushy furrowed brow I often ponder the precise circumstances that any thing 2 be born this way as a poker face Tracing back lineage of self or arbitrary individual unpredictable as the Dow Reckoning a series of
O Father Elohim, King Christ, beneficent Allah, Be thou the Magnificence of the hearts and souls of men! May thy deity abide with humans, and may thy works Forever be blessed. We, thy children, strive to enter thy house And
(A collaboration with Gene) In dark melancholy’s mire a heart’s forlorn canoe paddles through the dense grief floating on the surface clutching like vines, sticks like Val Des ooze, pulling me under. Listening to the ghostly music coming from the
During the war, while the men were away killing Germans my grandmother played in goal for a ladies football team. They won the cup, she got a medal, had her picture in the paper, and, according to my father, she
you wouldn’t know them except for their orders gliding like dolls hovering, footless, wearing bright dresses that brush the dusty floor the kind a proud mother would pick out then stand behind their chairs distracted trying to tame their cowlicks.
If trees can talk Even a mindless rumble Everyone will gawk But they remain stiff and sombre Supposing they are under a spell Imprisoned in their present demeanour Standing erect and motionless Like the guards at Buckingham Palace When it
Wandering through the village orchard When the evening amber light is spread I could hear the music of nature When the breeze from nowhere intruded. The music band follows the breeze With a concert of the cricket shrill The pitter