Repercussions poems bring the best collection of short and long repercussions poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great repercussions rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these repercussions poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on repercussions are here for you.
The mask of retributions pounds archives of deceit illuminating your mind towards repercussions surmised, pickle with veils of silence distributed by heirs of distrust. You wonder how this all came about but realize it was your own reciprocal doings while
Life is a series of relationships, Which come & go as time drips. A consolidated sequence of life is lew, But the list of happy moments are few. Living life with that only one, And not an analogy of some.
My lonely heart loses its way Always looks for a one, Wandering here and there Gets a mirage, but not a real one. Oh!!! Exhausted feelings that come And life becomes lifeless for a while, No way to stop, but
Greying streets whisper cold dust, a different time Their utterance echoes,carves on my glass mind. They hush a hymn so soft, it dangles like innocence, from an old child. I, an antique vase made to their design. Greying streets whisper,
I wonder how the pyramid was made People were amazed because of its shape It looks so perfect, I wanna see it Oh! Pyramids of Egypt Why so rich in history? Its structure remains a mystery What I can see
This day you left this world that day I am experiencing hell without you ever since like a Torn kite flying aimless like thick dark clouds hovering creating darkness in noon like Waves over the sea rising to the skies
She tiptoed lightly down the stairs, so quietly and some pause. At only eight, it was quite clear, her sight was on a cause. Her mother’s drawing pad, her brushes, and her paints; her goal to leave behind a painting,
We stood there, Leaning against the rusted rail. Watching the blend of day and night- With stars slowly coming to life, Shining bright. We watched the purple horizon- Comforted by the passive fire, Of our presence. Like an old pair
Driving green fire out of melodies. It was not make-believe not mannerism but smell of autopsy. A pseudo-elegy starts at burial site. Frugality of dust first decides to go to god and then die. Race, religion, tribe and their foot-soldiers
You start abbreviating the pretention, caring for the end of a perennial revenge – of slain truth, finding depth in arguments which will spawn more violence. Come my friend, come. Sit with me. Let us search together the solitary death
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
A sleight of the hand, a melodramatic move; Fate plays its final hand, A royal flush established, a victorious counter-move. Or was it simply you, in tandem with candor? Your misdemeanor forgotten, Simply an existential demeanor? How do you plead,
Woman changed into stone as Ahilya, Woman submerged into waters as Sohni, Woman was buried in wall as Anarkali, And she sank into earth as Sita, Woman was burnt alive as St John! She has been sacrificing since ages Where
I would give anything to die in you, in your belly, innocently. My voice of dissent should hold the wings atop the kisses. The wards in between fall on choked Eustachian. A global grief encircles the fallen gods, prophets of
…………………………………………… Kashi haunts me After months. It is not just the picture- The silent Ganga, Ancient town, Relaxed sadhus, A pious brahmin Walking the streets, Radiant calm on his face, Or cows, crowds and crossroads, Or the cremation ghats The
There is a river by the mountains, Covered by the deep dark forest. There is a river by the mountains, Where tired travellers take rest. There is a river by the mountains, Which flows like a lonely soul. There is
In the psychiatric hospital, angels have fever blisters because of too much powdered milk, swollen still hot from soft plastic cups as pink as their fingernails lacking calcium, Their wings hidden under dressing gowns made of felt, they grow beyond
Here below the oppressive heat On ground parched and cracked In dark and pregnant sheet A thousand clouds above gathered Streaks of lightning signal the vent As thunder roars in rapture With joyous cries they mingle The first drops downwards
Through the half-opened semi-drawn window, I hear your chants every morning inflow. Your voice, your rhythm the song and the tune it’s all so mesmerizing, I can’t decipher a word, but my mornings are revitalizing. You live quite nearby though
I know I bring you satisfaction. Mad but you’re masking. Packed? I’m unpacking. You want to leave. Best believe it won’t happen. Hold on Ma. Let’s breathe and work backwards. What is the battle worth? Your tears coming after words.
Allow his thoughts to enter your mind, Allow his feelings to merge with yours; Allow his emotions to mingle with yours; Allow his soul to be one with you. So what he is much much younger to you, So what