Puberty poems bring the best collection of short and long puberty poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great puberty rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these puberty poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on puberty are here for you.
Puberty A time of confusion It feels like a delusion With no coordination No organisation Puberty A time to love and hate You grow at an alarming rate Many need someone to help motivate Others are a little bit late
I’ve hit puberty Now boys look at me I’ve finally stopped growing But my stretch marks are showing Makeup sprawled all over my face My body stops me from running a fast pace Now here I stand wanting more As
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.
She had just reached puberty, her name was Chrysalis, her hair was golden, a flower blowing in the wind, her tiny figure never slowed her down, always adventurous, with a laugh that brought forth a smile, that was her one
Time flies, gentlemen I know! Those days of pleasure and satisfaction Those moments of mischief and appreciation Those times of puberty and perseverance All those hours have gone But remain in the mind, to be remembered tomorrow. Those days of
The fathers are all crying there is no more beer so they drank the river water now they weep like children and the wives wring their hands talk about amoebas, bacteria the children tend the campfire no one asks them
On the shorelines of the Adam’s River, Bald and golden Eagles from near and far line the meandering river’s embankments. Salmon struggling upstream to spawn. Chancing the elements. Bald and golden eagles are screaming in delight, as they eloquently glide
Am I Alive, or am I dead? Is this all just a dream inside my head? I feel like I’m losing my grip. Quick say something, anything before I slip. Nightmares slowly creeping. Has he finally come to do the
We started the journey together Where it would end Was anyone’s guess A thousand miles we have trodden Betwixt the ups and downs We’ve seen hills turn to mountain And mighty rivers run dry We have encountered many sorrows And
Would four-leaf clover give me better luck? A lot better than this forget-me-not? But rose that in your book I once did tuck, I never knew what destiny it got; Shall I conspire with wind to sing your name? Or
When I die, Bury me in those pages, Which failed to become My identity, my stages. Let me lie close To those verses, Those prose, Which never truly dealt With the emotions I felt. In my death Let me be
This was my book of pain with no ending. Life had two meanings- Anticipation of today, and fear of tomorrow. Time was running out like sand from fists, mists were rising, commentaries on setting sun had begun. Mind was calculating,
All that is dreamt, all that is lived, is Poetry. Rhythmic breaths, The beat of a heart, The fluttering of eyes. Each rendered piece of a life’s experience, Verses revealed, read, and reveled in. At times, our tears, the ink
The troublesome soul is locked away and out of control. The unforgiving lies drive you to a loose depressing pride. The weirdness of lust is being swept like dust. The spinning of the head is driving you crazy damn is
She was not a virgin But with beauty, she did reign She was already married But she arose to be adored She was a widow Her beauty and pride did glow Borne already two children But with second love, she
A pervasive bareness walks like an honest lie on the road to truth the bone white marble God oversees the planet green’s woes a climate change of heart its manipulations its intrigues something remains unsaid when I look back I
Past Called,A Familiar Hello, Memories that made everything Glow. Ceaseless talks, Persistent laughs, Discussing Highs and Lows On Life’s Graph. Nostalgia Hypnotizes Us, Rejoicing Life without a Fuss. Heart skips a beat, Sings A Song, Recalling times When we did
How has history harkened to he? Through time he has become older, And distorted years, too much they see: How a man once real, has become sold, His discovery praised, but his life forgotten. And he’ll pass so silently, In
Mountains from thirty-five thousand feet: Bike-wreck rucked skin below powdered sugar. No tread and no track in that authentic wilderness No pioneer souls in either ridgeline or crease And no you to arrive home to, the lush riffle Of short
Confused , lost , bloodshot eyes , A wanderer insomniac driven premise , Supreme anxiety , thumping palpitations, Pointless life dictated inhibitions , I Came at your doorstep, A depressed human being , A lifeless soul, Devoid of objectives ,
Crestfallen tears mixed with the salty brine of the expansive ocean. Time seemed to pause, as if for one brief fleeting second. He took a plunge into the icy deep. Happily submerging himself in the inviting energizing enrapturing emerald liquid.
In the art of letter writing, is a hand that writes it, pouring out the heart, through a sea of beautiful feelings, surrendering the soul. It is like an intricately woven lace of intense emotions, across the flowery page, that
Uptown or downtown somebody Wants to touch your body Somebody wants to get a little Naughty so who ever you’re with May not be your fantasy lover but When you have a rock hard, hard on It tends to have
He climbs on his being, crawls like a lizard; frightens. Sometimes after, in a shock falls back. Runs away leaving behind a trembling trail. ———————————— He climbs on his being, crawls like a lizard; frightens. Sometimes after, in a shock
Ambitions distances thought of death Desires over looks the need Greed kicks out the contentment Lust blinds the relationship Violence forgets the humanity Vengeance suppress the patience Rejection leads to frustration frustration ends in suicide suicide adds to the kitty
And you, Cinna, asked me ‘Write the best poem ever written’ You, who died burnt and beaten As no strength poet, for poets find Strength when Muse kisses their mind, And let them spread message of the strongest kind May
It is 11.30 at night- A night train is appearing into our sight- Porters are walking up and down the station, They are keeping watch on train’s arrival with great caution- They are frantic to the passengers- who will get
For two days I stayed in a hill resort Opposite was a hill top, easy to conquer with little effort That was covered by many a variety of tree Without greenery, leaving few gaps, as free Those gaps looked like
Music and words are the places that I hide, the solace of their sanctuary with walls, behind which to hide. But now when I sing those melodious old songs, tears are all I can find where the words should belong.
Adieu the happy year, Run, run the Trojan horse Towards the servile marriage bed With all inglorious splendor. The deadly weeds of unhappy moments If ever entice you as dew fresh grass, If the supposed Helen with supposed charms Riding
Something I will never forget, something I should have been forgotten… Something that cannot be undone, Something that can never be erased or rewound… A nightmare to others, But an encouragement to those who hurt, to move on.. A thing