Relaxation poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of relaxation poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on relaxation are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Witness petals kissing you in the rosewater bath Levitating bubbles tickling your skin in their path As you smell the invigorating perfumes so divine Allow an imaginary world of enchantment confine You in a harlequin land, scented by Spring’s flowers
Slowly I walked into the coolness of the woods Serene quietness punctuated by the calls of the birds Scampering of squirrels amidst the moving shadows Cast by the leafy canopy of boughs and leaves As clouds play hide and seek
As with everything, every time, when the room is empty and all is left bare. Folks who are stretched, re-stretched, are standing or sitting now invisible I ask alone the objects which bared or beared it all. Are you waiting
A sunny day on the river Ouse was chasing away the blues Sure, nothing to lose Divine muse Joy We really enjoyed our little cruise drinking coffee and some booze Sure, nothing to lose Divine muse Boy What a life!
Chirping birds awakens thy soul Dew drops falling on green leafy plants above and below Freshly cut grass, does thy scent behold As the sun slowly raises and flowers unfold Soft fluffy clouds floating in air Animals of nature frolic
Touch of your fingers gives feeling of first winter wind, And sprouts bliss and splendor in heart and inner mind. Your voice is like water stream passing through a valley, Brings feeling of relaxation in mind and soul, deeply. Twinkling
There I was. Loitering in the lobby of her heart, after a long flight the only thing on my mind was rest. The aroma was nice, stepping in through the double doors. Following the stretch of carpet to the front
It’s an orchestra of various instruments, Mixing and remixing with eastern and western, Indian and Arabian, Persian and Spanish A real symphony, of matching with matchless, The union of hard and soft, with Strings and Skins. Music of rain, the
I thought everything is forever lost, all my feelings buried and gone. I must have been cursed, I thought I never find what I desire the most. My broken heart was beating in vain, I knew I never be the
In one’s life journey People that comes are many. No one is that which stays with thee Even shadows leave at the light’s scream. Everyone’s under a fictitious cloud Intriguing fancies speak aloud Death awarded at trust’s expense ‘Cause falsehood
Pander to the broken once more shall you see, the changes made, Above the mighty Stereo Surrendering, only to ignite streams to pour From the fountain of the Infinite Well. Oh! allow such splendor to splash upon a page Aplomb!
I was basking in the glorious Sun, when that delicate creeper tapped at my feet and innocently smiled, said it’s called Love. It promised me sweet smelling blossoms everyday, its weightlessness around my body, if I nurtured it with attention
“Today at work”, she says, “My boss went berserk” Has all the luxuries of the world, Except if you see closely, she has no one. Beautiful and intelligent she is for sure, but Rumours tell me she was never chosen
There’s a pile of wounded umbrellas overlapping in the derelict doorway, sure to be some kind of slumbering gorilla back there, grinding its gray knuckles into the tiles and broken glass. Hundreds of people walking by on market day, bands
My Africa A land of beauty and distinction A place where we have cultures and traditions A land of hope where the people are ingenious and Jocund Africa! The golden continent A place carved out of greatness A glimpse of
All our dreams are crushed, All our dreams are gone, Yet here we sit and yawn. Before we were small kids, Playing around like pigs. But here we are now grown, Silently missing home. Our bones are filled with arthritis,
Anytime the nights are long and scary The spider in the corner with legs so hairy The nightmare left you cold and scared You know I’ll be there Anytime the dawn brings fear and worry The hours ticking by as
The Lord is merciful and love slow to anger and rich in blessings he does not treat us according to our sin, nor repay according to our faults as parents have compassion on their children the lord has pity on
What is your history? And what is your identity? Are you related to your identity because of your history? And what is identity when it changes every century? Nations and invaders enter into each others’ lands Some foreign leader make
The smirks and taunts upon the faces People who try to diminish your value Every action judged,critiqued with words Flung at you from on high Where they sit with superiority Like a girl, they say You throw the ball You’re
A pair of hazel eyes look at me. Your ‘bandana’ runs up to forehead, a scarf covers nose, chin and below, the pinky complexion of your cheeks lures me to paint you as a lovely maid. There is no invitation
As we begin a journey so uncertain, you and I made one in a world of ours. Our thoughts and emotions to share, our pleasant moments together to cherish, and our pains and sorrows to endure. I pledge my unflinching
Your absence greets me every morning. In the beginning, so noisy, even wild, Thrusting its claws into my plexus, Leaving deep furrows oozing your memory, Bleeding questions and perplexities- Oh, how I hated that spectrum Which darkened my glaring world!
After many years of slavery we still end up being enslaved today After many years of exploitation We are still being exploited till today Oh! brother is revolution time is time to live in a real world stand up and
She counted butterflies through my eyes Stood on her toes and; touched the skies In one long breath, she gulped a cloud And sang to the birds, clear and loud She danced in the rain and climbed the trees She
On this lazy Sunday while the rest of the pack are Nursing sore eyes, here I am on the winding lanes where memories lay, like strewn flowers, and some still bloom on those hedgerows behind which a shining face, often
All by myself, Surrounded only by my thoughts, In my home, With no modern gadgets of communication, No WhatsApp, No Facebook, No mobile, No ‘virtual’ friends, Away from all, In the real world, With my animals and plants, With my
Just never comes the picture of your parents, When you enter the flurry of those silly thoughts. On your highly sensitive thin frame of mind, The MARKS have indeed created deep dots. Within your crystal-clear, free-flowing carefree life, Suddenly there
The Legend of Procris and Cephalus. based on a painting in the London National gallery “A satyr mourns the death of a nymph “, painting by Pierro de Cosimo Who is this maiden sleeping here This beauty she is dead
Submerged in doubt one floats carefree in aimless waters without hope of touching land. Tethered with guilt and regrets one tows his/her soul to a destiny of penance. Overt or clandestine, pain is no one’s gain if one can grasp