Reminder poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of reminder poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on reminder are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
People turn to perceive love as a fragrance, spreading from a new bud; Which blossoms and turns into beautiful flower in each passing day But the same bud coarsens and falls apart from the stem, No one realizes the phase
Sitting on the heap of mortals, an angel failed. The world was not going to change. The kill had inspired only a naked aggression. Not blindfolded he took the bullet in heart to become a holy martyr. The pretention caused
It slithers, the tongue trying to find the rage on cold words. A window shuts on fire for a deliberate withdrawl from conflicts. The virgin iron becomes a corpse under the golden amnesia of hot greens. The colors are changing
Yes indeed “Music is life’s Sound Track!” As on the rail of time An old song verse Transports us back A decade or a score Even more, To recollect A quality time With a lover We spent Though probably Now
Roaring engines blow sand from the shoulder of a broken mirror, They scream into the night. Candy coats capture passing glances, The shine dances with a golden streetlight, Casting gilded dust over newly discovered worlds, Toledo and Boston, Chicago and
1,000 memories come rushing at me, when I hear the melody and feel the beat of the drums. When I hear the poetry, and the love within the lyrics… when the guitar is being strummed. For anyone else, it’s just
Let’s make a pact today. When you walk along my side again Don’t ask me about what’s stowed away. Dismiss all doubts about what you see no more, And when I stumble upon what you’ve been covering up all along,
He was the first man your eyes opened to.. The shivering hand that touched your tiny nose.. The strong arm you cuddled on.. His love that kept brimming but never spilled.. Those eyes that made everything seem within reach.. That
Through the wrought iron gate, Emblazoned with an ironic promise Of freedom earned through labour. A promise fulfilled only for the lucky few. Within, dull, threatening concrete towers Survey the inner pen, once filled With innocent men and women, Ready
Good evening, class. Tonight we will discuss the urban environment of American cities, the neighborhoods, hoods & enclaves Of a collection of people, some who step carefully over glass- covered sidewalks & play in Needle-filled parks, who avoid the homeless
Oh, the wind flowing like thoughts fast yet calm fluttering leaves,through hot searing deserts and cold dreaded mountains, through spring as sweet as happy memories. it leaves nothing untouched and nothing can contain it . Sure no one is where
I feel this ever looming wrath. It comes from within. Sure to destroy everything in its path. But as this soul would come out. The whisps of smoke will arise. Rotten a cadaver only will be perceived. A thousand clouds
Look outward, vacillant eager suitor; the harbouring eyes reveal all. And never disappearing, your every thought would explore revolving exclaves; maintaining absolving introversion. Never subvert the remaining affection; never go. Endless reminder; sanguine. Rarely ever after death, there’s happiness. Every
Introduction: It comes in a small cylinder of white rolled cover, a-four-inch-processed-tobacco- leaves, which becomes very active from slow and low combustion sustained by heat. Call it cigarette- maybe cigar-spit tobacco, perhaps, hookahs, menthol, bidis, clove or kreteks, probably, shisha
wind in late summer hitting like a shoulder under your chin its whole muscular body propelling you toward no one knows there’s a frantic mating windchimes so long dormant shivering with triplets all the cats narrow their eyes slink into
Her severed head she carries, from the Sant’ Angelo Bridge, surrounded features bring her near, so small in comparison, drawn to the Tempietto, she’s associated with this reminder overheard, from my conversation with Paul from the ceiling, conveyance from scripture,
Let the poppies be a sole reminder of those who went before us. ‘Lest we forget.’ On this special Remembrance Day, a day to celebrate those battlefield fights. In Remembrance of a soldier that give all from his heart, fighting
I look through my window and like what I see Clear blue sky soaring high above me The air so fresh and a pleasure to breathe Fluffy white clouds made of what you believe Beneath the canopy of life-giving wonder
Moth against-the screen flitting at the light-repeatedly being blind- to the source it seeks- reacting over and over-to strive live and beat-long as it can more over- a thousand times-with wings kept moving-relentless-ly until it fails- in it’s attempt to
In a quiet, solitary room, the light softly pours into the multi-colored windows, Filling it with a reminder of the Father’s covenant. The children gather one by one and two by two, Praying for hope to be given in the
After lifting the fingerprints of bloodbath a bushfire starts, engulfing contradictions, the gulf between erosion of truth and survivors appears widening. Tiny ants smell blood, exfoliation begins, from nameless earth for the exodus of barefoot, the epic of tragedy, something
Yearly, an obligatory tax on lovers, reminder to those without one. Florists, chocolatiers, jewelers, rejoice! Roses become scarce, and double in price. But, I found a way to fight the system. Lovers, romance follows no calendar, so please will you
After the rain wets the ground, a damp, naked silence, floats in air on the wrong side of the moon. A strange mist, like a post coital whiff envelops you savagely. The testa breaks. A forest heaves beneath your nails.
The wheels find, the track on my body, why do I shiver & tremble? The night gives me the depth, a grim reminder of realism. The consortium of thorns, the splinters float in my eyes. The dignified seizure, takes hold
Cold fingers, glowing face Head down, thumbs up Red eyes, watery and strained Our heads ache from the new emperor’s reign. There’s buzzing pockets A reminder that it’s always there and the people on the other side demand our attention
Instead of pain sublime in body of death and bracing a hailstorm of bullets you embrace a white phosphorus to burn for whole life, as a reminder of collective suicide. Like my lost children I am collecting the words to
Who knows the future? Secrets in the palm of jesting mind. Deep dwells the forgotten past, a reminder of untold losses. A life adorned with love, kindness, loyalty, and selflessness. Questions unanswerable pecking the essence of sanity Fate says the
like ether, permeating all space mesmerizing, he walked away, head of his enemy in his hand, like a trophy? frighteningly orangish a decapitated body shudders. The holy war demands its price of a joke. The face of red and blue.
Her voice is an awkward drawl among the manifold chatter, the pitch a bit too high to even assimilate in the uniform blather. Her skin is one too many shades darker than the general throng- a constant and incessant reminder
The lines of time stretched pulled torn ripped apart. As the time passes, it is as the distance, grand yet minuscule, an odd yet frightful reminder. And as it grows, the pain loses precision, the sharpness fading, like morning fog.
An autopsy was being conducted with brutality to silence the rising dialogue, pulling out the lethal crunch of scripted history. You want the kiss of a parting grain. A secondhand face crops up in a newspaper. Are you ashamed of