Raksha Bandhan poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of raksha bandhan poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on raksha bandhan are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Fourth member you were But I found you second to none. There’s a proverb “all’s well that ends well” huh!!! easier said than done. Ma’s apple of eye, Papa’s Gondlo you were. Oh!!! did I tell what I felt? Hurricane.
What does it look like? What does it sound like? How does it read? Is there beauty in mathematics? Are physics formulations beautiful? Is artistic beauty in all its forms discovered or created? Did Newton invent his mathematics or did
Something was not polite in signs. The smell of incarcerated bed of gods was floating down. A subdued shadow of black moon was climbing on the window. And each house had offered a son, to rage a war of retribution.
We live in a world full of blindness, Everybody is looking, But yet lacking kindness, Ignorance has made us all crazy and mindless, Nobody willing to stand up Instead acting spineless, Evil has spread And started to become timeless, People
They hear but hardly listen, They look but barely see, They hear loud noises; And roll their eyes again. They see her blush, Her hair, disheveled – not lush. Resume their favourite past time They jump – To conclusions. If
Rain holds life, In every little drop, Hanging on every leaf and flower, Reflecting without a mask. Each lone drop, Has a story to tell, Of a struggle to hang on, In its journey. Like a teardrop, It falls from
nothing more frightning than waiting for an uncertain arrival, but then that uncertainty seems but a minor prick under the skin, one overtaken and masked by the uncertainty within. the answers very slick and sly which is why we have
The scenes of human sufferings Are more apparent in the world Than all the boastful shows Of power,riches and pelf . We see a few rolling in wealth, While millions in penury and want suffer The rich inventing new ways
Restless, I rummage, I ruminate, I rile T’is dark, the world slumbers yet here I lie Tossing, turning, the shrill clock tick-tocking Midnight amplifying a roar of whispers inside Silly, frilly girl, a voice cackles a criminal cry Breathes a
Tribute – on his Birth I stepped into the evening Of my life and lost interest in living And thought of leaving This wild world. I was waiting To see my grand son arriving Into this wicked world smiling Before
Back and Front Back and Front, Front and Back My steps gradually make Taking me to a land With success, where I stand. Being stagnant , oh I fear Rooted to the ground there, Because moving is life Sometimes comfort
Absolve those smiles, Absolve those verses, Those assurance and those assertions; Not ever intended honesty, Not ever expected guarantee, No dreams to cherish and no pains to perish; The passion and the compassion The warmth and the wrath Were all
Listening to nothing in my ribcage I see the void growing deep within Playing catch with blame and misery I bleed sense unto past memories. I am machine a part of me is a soldier enlisted to serve broken dreams.
There is a fabric being woven, good and true A fabric that is added to, in every day, anew A tissue made of sacrifice, of hopefulness and love Each stitch a confirmation of a trust in things above Sometimes we
Dear Black Woman You are As Stong as the An African Elephant Yet we’re are supple and elegant. We are persuasive talkers so our words are very Eloquent. Crafted From man’s rib and An earthly element is How God made
Even the sleeping genes learn from their crashes with needles in eyes. A candid house chooses to fade after thinning of a blessing. Legacy of a heretic lives, dragging down the cracked joints of a frozen mirror. The wild lips
Struggle is life’s way of strengthening it… yet because of it I’m stuck in a bottomless pit. Everything’s gone, truly nobody left… a few that once cared now all think I’m a pest. All that was left was a tiny
When it comes to you landing gently in your soul, and plants its loving seed. How do you accept? With a heart full of gracious thanks that wipe away all those long, dark and lonely nights. Or treat it with
It was lack of contusion. The relief had not come. Hours were on after the nobility moved on faulted track. Methane was rising. It was white death: people were coming, people were going. Pure and muddy, the treachery was like
Drowning in my blood the vampire had the lapse of consciousness. I embraced the night without moon. Why does it happen day in and day out? You allowed the blood sucking which was the choice for unanswering of unpleasent questions.
Up there, the mind of saints is telegnostic And thought is superluminally telepathic; Via sensorial communications anomalous Gnosis and mind are venially synonymous. All is public fare; the personal life is dead And every thought you surfed in your head
She was a girl who loved colors and art The fact that she couldn’t draw tore her apart Maybe trying a different method would work, she thought As razor blades and cutters she bought She started drawing and the canvas
Can you imagine, six bunnies sitting in a row all tapping one toe. Six birds in branches above all singing songs of love. Six frogs croaking in a pond waiting to turn into princes? Six M.P all shouting for space,
A chaotic moments we did face, Filled with tension and bubbling of heads; Here the shouting came, There the things flew. Any day was emergency, Any day was important. Lamps did burn all night through, No food we did touch.
Morning is too cold, winter sun with least influence Flickers with lost glory, the road appears dusty Leading to vast rural field. The man in front of you in shabby attire In hurrying feet to attain his morning calls. Thy
Isn’t a child’s pristine smile The sweetest of all expressions One can ever chance to see On a human countenance? Doesn’t it make you forget Your woes and worries for a while Reviving your faith in the inherent goodness Dwelling
May there be mercy this day of mourning. Fly flags half-mast for human rights’ regress. The “forgotten” poor, white male minority are distressed by their societal mortality. Clinging to obsolete “common” privilege: sexism, lying, and xenophobic “wisdom”. They are what
The tide stroked at my toes. It reminded me how… gentle Your touch used to be. A gilded sun enveloped the glass sea, Glistening; the way your Eyes lit a darkened room. Waves, Crashed. Semi-translucent images Come and go on