Relics poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of relics poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on relics are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
She shakes it, spreading the exuberance, gushing out of its folds ’n Crevices of long-ago, like a perennial stream of jubilant euphoria- Converting matter into emotions, from the tangible to the intangible, Embodying an idyllic confluence around, fervently fluttering to
Your charms, your charms, are figments dreams are made, I wish not to be gravely soaked therewith, Or else, I will be fool in love’s charade, That anyone would rightly guess forthwith; Is it folly to wait by Heaven’s door?
It was a grizzly sky indeed So dull and drab The Kind, that reminds you of a Middle aged mistress, deeply in despair Puffing up a ballooned pout. Who is casting ash over Our azureous canopy? From where does this
Drowning her children back in her womb, a big tear rolls down the cheek of earth. She was sitting on broken bones to watch the terror, ear for ear to listen, eye for eye to see. Hope was becoming ephemeral.
When terror strikes, fear inside you makes a hissing sound, breaks the vessel. Pain spurts out. Your limbs swell like sapphires in a naked suffering. You were searching the face of your dead brother on burning ghat. And then on,
Souls leave no shadows And no more shades either For, they remain in those Moth eaten sepias as relics of Those we have loved once And killed many times over Souls leave holes only Wholesome holes; say some in mock
This day of sixty fruitful weeks shadow pristine relics of bundled keepsakes adorned in obsolete gazettes of passing snow storms, puppy training and next door’s junk mail. Transition logs re-call six states, five military orders, four duty stations, six rusted
Confused and wary like a spermwhale, you are nosediving; – through the shadows of terrible pain ejecting ambergris. Who was getting the bribery to fix the belly button? This was not revolution. It was evolution- of a stinking city. The
If dreams are strung from end to end like string, My dreams of you could wrap around the world, And all the ways your name, my mind did bring, Are way much more than how my thoughts unfurled; Though mornings
Do not talk of unhealing wounds, talk of the weapons. Talk of the hands which used the arms and talk of the brain which pressed the trigger. Violence was primitive but the cruel eyes had a new glint, At night
Weaving fine fibres of unripe beliefs, from a fire base, a blue bird scrambles, shading the stone valley. There was no thrift for the cadavers. The burnt relics were eating away the greens of tearful eyes. Sun was slugging again.
She lived like a gush of wind And looked like breeze in trance Her thoughts freely bounced on paper In an awesomely imperfect dance She loved and sang and smiled to the sky Dived in dreams without asking why Her
Flying through the clouds of an agitating sky she was landed on the shore of despair. Unknown of the tyrannous rapter the angel became wounded by his erroneous desire. Following the winds of fallacy she got lost among the devils.
Happiness is Smiling joyfully at a stranger frowning; Making him smile; problems drowning. Happiness is Waving wildly at a high-flying plane Making many feel that we are insane. Happiness is Raising up both our hands to the sky As we
It was an absent answer. Terror was one abyss in unhindered waking of eternity in being. The passions rise between downpour of black rings on the terraces, was nonstop a parade of excuses and pretentions, no body was taking the
the winds are becoming numbing needles to my skin again. the whistling of the night is entering the day covering up the sun to my happiness. the bullying was a distant memory from my mind now fresh to my soul.
Black rain filtered down the cobble stone, catching the moon, almost making a white streak of what looked like paint, as it found the large grated drains As morning came, transformations of colours form, as oil slick from the Lorries,
The walls were closing in on me. Frustrated and furious significantly. A grey cloud of despair, can’t you see it in the air? Where are you right now? You said you would always be there. As the emptiness filled the
Another minute without you, has passed, As sands pour grandly in a timely fall, And so did leaves that on the ground have massed, When they obliged to heed the Winter’s call; But wintry days lingered, to fill my life,
Victories out of lost battles… Soundless sighs of unwelcomed past… Past that tried to travel to future… Future of those who were busy… Busy with their lives… Lives they meant by dreams… Dreams out of their sleep… Sleep that never
There in the beautiful garden where a joyful melody played and the flowers were happy with such musical day. Some dressed in pink and others In blue, roses were red and violets were blue, all of them in harmony danced
The bones are brittle as are the thoughts they crumble events of yesterdays that never happened things that happened not remembered today becomes another time faces and events mingle become a crazy quilt He sits and stares unaware of a
She came in pieces In the flitting moments Flying at the speed of mind Leaving a ruffled heart A purpose she gave A path she carved A journey to trek To find her yonder She appeared like the mayamrug Of
I made a mask for myself one day So colorful, filled with glee but beneath the surface lies another aspects of my personality. Nobody sees me cry Because i designed the mask for smiling Nobody can sees the pain Because
The storm has come. Look there! It’s on the prowl. It will try to waste me; Transferring me from one place to another; Terminating all thoughts of hope, in my soul. The wrinkles, on my face, did smother. People tread
Tangled clues with sensuous sparring; the incense was rising from the blue moon. It was body’s integrity, a lender was demanding when lust had become prodigal. Behind the thin veil, red eyes stared unblinkingly at the portrait of a nude
Hands that float across Ivory Tinkle in such ecstasy To stir my soul, to soar on high; And my heart doth reach the sky And fly on every note that plays. My emotion frays And breaks with sound, Till tears
“A young, bubbly lass once I saw, Tall, dusky and a charming smile she wore. Like all little girls, she waited in anticipation, Of a handsome young man, Who’d love her like no one. Her little follies he would overlook,
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.
The surface rippled, Three pairs of feet plopped in And the tadpoles scurried To hide in caverns. Sighs of relief Brushed over the tiny rock pool As cool water Soothed sore feet. The tadpoles gambolled again, Silence drawing them out;
Wounds get scratched To the depth of infinities From where I had started Started that journey That I knew will never end But perhaps I imagined it all I imagined I’m carrying along as always Carrying that wound healer with