Recreation poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of recreation poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on recreation are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
There are brightened screens on lazy afternoons, Queue up for a weekend getaway from our dull bedrooms, What’s your age, sex and location? Are you here for rendezvous or recreation? Thirty Sally whose a housewife, is looking for illusions, to
Family. That’s what we’ve grown to be. From once not knowing each other’s names, To all being able to take the blame. The past 3 years, We’ve grown to become who we are, From the people that surround us. Our
Penniless, I get up in the morning having eight hours of sound sleep feeling fresh and happy. don’t you feel I am rich in spite of being Poor ? Milliner, I get disturbed sleep the whole night and get up
Majestic you are, Awe inspiring is your peaks, Touching the sky, Meandering through your rocky terrain is Many a Holy River, Causing the rise of ancient civilizations, Beauty manifested in magnanimity; Dotted with Shrines, Where Silence is worshiped, And Sanctity
Now that my mother, father and siblings have passed. Yes passed, a dainty word saying, dead, gone, either up in the sky, or down in the ground. At last I have said the words, dead, died, death, leaving me bereft.
ZOETROPED – that’s how I feel – or like YARN upon Dame Kismet’s wheel XANSTHOPSIC mellow is the mood WHICH jaundices not my attitude VERISIMILOUS is what I am ULTIMATELY just a man TRUE to myself and the chosen few
He faked a letter to god and slept whole night. (Fallen in a creek from a moving train.) Indeed, he saddled himself with luxury of oblivion. The success around him was most obstinate. Pretending to condone the arthritis of social
Every day in his life was hell, Repercussions he could hardly spell. He endured drudgery to pay his bills, No time for Netflix and chills. Man, he never had the privilege of peers, His world was always shrouded by petulant
I have no will to walk on the lane where you don’t reside I don’t want to step into the house where you don’t live Life may look colourful and cheerful all round Happiness may appear to exist every where
I love thou not, o land of high hypocrisy, My country of the totalitarian democracy! I’d rather not hear thy people’s speech Or behold thy men’s disgraceful binge! I love thou not! If thou be a chariot, Old steeds are
Soaked trees from the rain and fallen leaves, that cover paths lined with glowing pumpkins Houses with dimly lit porch lights and Halloween decorations welcome youngsters of all ages Children running amok dressed as their favorite character and yelling ‘Trick
And what for this rallying call mellifluous our human and brutish moments the heaving and seething and bitching sighs and sweat to stray, accumulate, funny pictures beneath a huge and hurting sky soaked and sore in summer sun or frozen
I ask you to bring many things When you plan to visit me I search for those expectantly Forgetting the speech of your eyes And miss your presence The glowing rainbows and the blue sky You created in my room
The first time I saw you I knew not who you were, your wonderful gentleness forever captured my heart. So I sat very quietly on my back deck and watched you dance, like a ballerina; all around my backyard. Your
Trying to tell the truth seems but a losing battle And speaking about what is correct a useless gamble People just want to hear about fun and happiness Yet there comes a time we must take life with seriousness But
My sunshine life will shatter, I hope , to you it does matter. Our love was meant for an eternity, A splendid gift, a blissful divinity, However, now some jinx has clouded it with insecurity. Hold me tight till the
In longest night of pitch-dark space you disappear like an arrow. No star brightens your face. Rumor was cruising like a bat on streets to capture the gullible victim on winter solstice. The snow was falling like sorcery. A little
Find something you’re passionate about and let it consume you. Do not run from it. Let it keep you awake for 48 hours at a time. And while you’re running on zero sleep, create the next wonder of the world.
The Singapore-schooled child Is bonsai-born to perfection; His hair doesn’t grow wild; His mind has no inflection. He is just the rare inquiline His islanded government ordered For in his rinsed head is recorded A rhyme: toe the line or
On the hay stack lies my body brought from the shooting range. Brain dead, I exit, to watch the blood drenched earth. Foot prints of eternity. Window is shut. No light enters. In tiers, the cadavers are lying in a
I do not want to become plaintiff or defendant. Untethered, I will punish myself for metaphysical nuances. Sometimes a silence talks to grieving sky about a fake truth. The tears will never stop now. Give me my freedom to cry,
White, you diluted my red into skin that doesn’t fit squirms. Trampoline, reflected projectile in your eye. I, from you Stop background-ing walk in, devour me I will fight you survive emerge to co-exist.
Deep in the abyss Where the land stops short And water relieves the hardened remains Of a path into an impressionable canvas It rewards it for being stony All this while For being someone else For not sinking under footprints
Looked downward – the granite face, to see imprinted kupfernickeled god, lying in dust. From where to where we have come sleepwalking? In freezing winds, like brown angels with swollen lids. White moon-poised to commit suicide? Blindfolded heavy as lead
Her love is like turning the tides away from the Docks at riverside in the afternoons and fighting Off horrific terrifying fire breathing dragons that Overwhelmed us in desperate times of weather Or not this is a fantasy, Depends on
Give them love, show them understanding- make them feel the person- they once were; their dignity, never take away from them, their self-respect, without hesitation you must maintain. Memory may be gone, storage and retrieval mechanism may have collapsed; like
He made me move on the rough edges to the abyss of ‘ I ’, persuasive, but strong for a thrilled journey, on the snow-clad relationship between disquieting follicles of wants. Completely alert, still drowning in fear of abstract river,
Sleep is an everlasting wealth that never enchants a highway man who seldom fails to snatch anyone’s heavenly sound sleep. Sleep is a miracle that soothes the one who is deprived of worry the one whose life style is systematic
Sound dances on the wind The scarlet life that runs through our body Bitter to the smell Sweet to the taste The lifeline that doesn’t make any of us humans much different A beauty that’s capable of sending chills down