Programmed poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of programmed poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on programmed are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
As usual, the stars, way out there in the distant sky, will probably be out tonight. If it should become cloudy and foggy, they might become hidden from sight. Otherwise, they will appear and fulfill their God given purpose, by
When I awoke that fatal day I knew there was something amiss the agonizing striking pain doubled me over on the cold floor My eyes began to well with tears and gushed down like a rushing waterfall a cold eerie
I want to be free like music. Free like soft tones, melodies, voices, and patterns pulsating together. I want to wake up freed by music in mornings when the mind is slowly, steadily, waking up. I want to be free
the horizon knows no bounds Urania ……… ……One Basic Truth….. The Suns ……The Moons…..The Stars …….The Sky …… Into their Eldest ………….…The Time ……..They Fly……. So Unfathomable ……..Beauty …………So Bounteous……..Powers ….. What Quantum of Energies ……These Celestial Cousins Possess ..
The day I realised that I’m just like everyone else. Clarity. I spent all my time thinking that I was different, unusual. [Apparently] I thought differently to everyone else. [I] Wanted, needed different things. Craved isolation. Solitude. Peace. Contentment. Simplicity
What kind of God would treat us this way? In mankind the wide spectrum between evil to good can be found. In some, such kindness, while in others a wickedness not to be believed is in play. The ancients believed
The kitchen staff left a slice of cake out. all the while, stacking chairs on tables, scraping the grill, through the ravenous inhale of the vacuum cleaner, it sits like an unscaled peak framed in the lights of the pass-through.
Routine Life has no string attached to it Everything is planned for the day It is presumed things move as programmed involvement in the daily chorus smacks the Human sensitivity each one is busy for fulfilling the days obligation Day
A masterful bull elk in prime condition the massive monster’s high spirited bugle reverberating out across a vast valley high in the Cascade Mountain Range. Wapiti’s harem meandering about on a pristine alpine meadow with the grand master on full
After the rain wets the ground, a damp, naked silence, floats in air on the wrong side of the moon. A strange mist, like a post coital whiff envelops you savagely. The testa breaks. A forest heaves beneath your nails.
As I watch the raindrops pelting down my Window panes, my thoughts wander away, hover. I think of the unique creation weaved By God through His magical fingers that Wash my despondence, gloom, sappiness and Make my spirits soar high
Her contemplation is blue, like Monalisa’s portrait; That smilingly caresses with her latent tears. Nobody knows, When She cravingly sobs and; Where she wishfully cries; And who knows? When, she’d sacrifice her next smile; Her every smile in love. Her
Ghosts dance dark in hallowed places, see them wear familiar faces? With their art my calmness chases and I can quit them not at all. Whirling to some music haunted, dancing while my mind is taunted I bolster but they
Run, run and run, Life is a long run: Neither you and nor me Can win it and be free. Except the ultimatum, That’s Death!—–which is sure to come. No winner and no runnersup, Neither silver nor golden cup. Newly
Hey you, just a dot in the sky, I know how big you are, there, I know distance is the foe, you fear, Divided by light years, Trust me, diminished infinitesimally, You look prettier. We all have foes and friends,
The blank page grinned at my emptiness.. Tears fell creating bluish islands… As my hand moved, the page bled hiding white spots; the remains of our love… Each droplet fading away to gloom; devoid of emotions.. I tried moving my
The rising waters envelop me, Frothing and bubbling around, Rushing towards the unknown, Seeking a final resting place. I try to move against the tide, But rivulets pull me resolutely, Like a mother dragging a child, Through the heart of
About days, when heart is alone.. Familiar faces but the soul is unknown.. The voice is unheard, Albeit it is loud, since I thronged by an extensive crowd.. About days, when home is Abode Moments are time and path is
Colossal memories engulf me, I plunge down deep, Precious bring back my smile, Others do bring back grief. The quantum I did endure, My trampled heart would always pry. Sure nothing stays eternally, No fact hidden in cry! I leap
Farthest you have gone but in thoughts remain Time alleviates sorrow loss hardest to explain With undying devotion you raised me just fine Telling what was right not cross over thin line Placidity of disposition far reaching foresight Helped me
It was a dirty war of moat flaying the legs in emotional outburst. No stings. Only mandibles will do the job of chewing on your dark fingers. Flat, the taste of milk: a synthetic formula to eat your entrails. The
I thought him dangerous. He thinks himself a murderer? Does he know its foolishness? Every tirade a cry out. Every negative comment a plea for attention. The dullest of boors. His imagination lackluster and trite. A mind dumbed down with
Bunch of flowers, fresh fragrant showers, timidly waiting for something. I hear a sound buzzing around, Where am I? Where I’ve been? Is it for real? Or, is it just a dream? Tinsel beads cover the trees, and the strolling
Valley was vast View was the best Sun was about to set For prey, birds search to get Breeze was pleasant Passers were complacent Boys bath at a pool Crows fight like a fool Sun became a lamp Returning home
Where do they come from? The brain is complex, of that there’s no doubt. Neurons, synapses, dendrites and axions, all woven together to make up our brain Somehow, from this complex mess we emerge, our consciousness our mind, all this
In the deep dark woods lived a great brown bear, he was seven feet tall but the townsfolk didn’t care for although the bear was huge and had fangs and long sharp claws, all the people would make fun of
Your heart is the function of my life, the junction to my freedom and happiness. Your eyes deviate me from my penalties, giving me the chance to oscillate my mind in your gaze. Your gesture is what differentiates my luck
Watching March flowers open, I feel the Lord’s breath on my face Walking through forest timber, I feel His power and grace When sailing across oceans, His fury I can’t tame He then heals all my moments, of worry and
Well my mother might be almost sixty But she’s still one damn good-looking Woman, inside and out she’s has such A kind heart and her feelings run deeper Than any ocean can and such a beautiful Beautiful woman who could
By the mirror side she sat, On a small caned chair, Looking at the tall figure, Combing her long dark hair, Frown on the little face, To resolve her loneliness, A baffled look stared at her, A playmate she wanted
Again I would hear the night sounds through the hours of civilities when there was a pause in the body untouchable. You were sleeping with counterfeits, running down the golden dome sailing over the silken clouds. My rough palm was
finding ways of running from the one force was getting harder everyday, with no night coming up the hill like it used to. rain still came only enough for plants to make out a week’s menu for those who had