Reward poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of reward poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on reward are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Smoke billows and mingling with the dust rises, a solid choking mass that coats with dirty grey the shapes that lie so still. The silence, broken only by a tearful moan, uneasy on the waiting ears of those who stand
Ceding to all expectations having given up on hope Demons return to accost and at vulnerability grope In self imposed severance there is so much I can take Me too breathe a human total tolerance can’t fake Slack line flung
We promised you a ‘Happy’ surprise and here we are with our next contest – “Happiness Happens!“. And truly so for happiness is not a destination, it is a journey and we would like to be your co-travelers on this
A miserable hospital scene, with shouts and painful sobs, With fractures, wounds and injuries of various calamities, And my friend, one among them, cancerous, with no hope, Not weeping, but talking and laughing, as he was, years back, In our
Bessy now pulls the cart towards their home that day Her size makes pulling baby carts as mere child’s play She’s huge, a Labrador, obtained from Russian friend Trained by cop, we’ll call Tim – that isn’t his real name
Anticipation hung in the air, The crowd chanting his name, Ding ding….. Fists flying, punches pounding, Sweat dripping, feet dancing. Nervous sensations rising, Knotting tighter with an adrenaline cocktail, Ding ding…. Tension grows like lightening strikes, Heads duck,arms jabbing with
Everything starts with a piece of something. But she’s already in pieces so how come? Such a dark journey, she wasn’t telling. A tragic story. Ending— there was none. All was black. She’s not blind, But her hope was. There’s
I want to remember… those immaculate strings moving across this spectrum of dust this spectrum of golden dust stealing around your meningeal hair those amusing gaps segue ways of humorous slip ups I’ve missed in order to get on with
The beauty and aroma of that kingly pink rose, caught my sense and forced me to pluck that natural pose. Attracted by its mystery, knowing little about its history, just looking at its pinky blush, my feelings ran deeply flush.
Before going , the despair suffocates our love and pumps depression doses in kisses In our addiction We lived together the brightest eras of love The addict lovesick was attacked by infection After the end of love I gave up
The habit of my soul to just walk away, leaving all relations one by one. Taking all the misfortunes, and the blames thereof, and the seduction of the silence of the mourning afterwards. Yes I know it has got that
There are some things I have come to believe. Believe me when I say, I am not deceived. Sometimes the good die young, and never receive. Unfairness exists, and persists, though ill conceived. Sometimes everybody gets pushed around, or cheated.
Tattered clothes that were barely there Her tortured soul was threadbare too. She mirrored our impotent helplessness In the face of destiny’s dire performance As we watched her bizarre life played out. Every time I saw her writhe and squirm,
Dark cloud looming. Moving slowly. But it’s there. Creeping in front of the sun’s path, dimming the light, inch by inch. Will it settle? Will it stay? Will it slide on by and keep on it’s way? Is there rain
Do I have a choice before knifing the page for a meaning, when I was drowned in a nostalgia? Cinchona bark. This was my keyword for living bitterly under a tryant inciting the riots of colors. The digital death comes
The weather is not letting me sleep in peace, Humidity seems monsoon’s closest niece. Last two days I am kept awake all night, And had to tolerate an absconded fight, With the humidity that prevails till now, I have to
Motherhood — Is it a blessing or a hidden challenge Or both of them finely rolled Into a status unique and strange ? A privilege granted by the supreme Maker To all female beings here on the earth Deeming them
A war has begun, not one of bullet nor bomb, precariously parsed over a landscape of a people, weaker than another, to whom the bomb might be enchanted cries of heavenly lord – gift from God! Level my home. A
On my way to work, Whenever I pass through The Holy Trinity church, After a brief prayer, The tombstone of a martyr My eyes never fail to search As his eulogies sensitive cords Are sure to touch! I admire The
During the war, while the men were away killing Germans my grandmother played in goal for a ladies football team. They won the cup, she got a medal, had her picture in the paper, and, according to my father, she
For the Heavens I strive, To make purpose from being alive, To ascend one bright day, To have visions enough to parlay. For becoming a better man, To give to those I sometimes can’t, To show how deeply I can
Poem Dedicated To My Father Late Moinuddin Hasan–An Ideal Teacher- BEFORE TEACHERS’ DAY Moinuddin was his name,eloquent, which means— One who is an aide to faith and for that weens He lost his father when only six months and mother,
I can say without a doubt that you did not simply follow others you made your own path though it was and is hard one of those untrodden trails where every rock twists your joints and leads nowhere but up
I thank you my Heavenly Father, it’s a brand new year and I’m still here by your Heavenly Grace and that’s perfectly clear Still there’s fear, I’m stuck in first gear, so in 2017 with so much unseen, on you
The feel of leaf dust, Shreds rustling around, The sight of falling leaves, unencumbered my senses. Standing bare at some places, Orange and yellow in some corners; Trees, like traveling artists, Put on colorful plays, Changing attire at every stage.