Sage poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of sage poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on sage are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
They smear thy love to hide their sheen For beauty, they found, is hidden within Through sunken eyes, as calm as thee They embrace thy art, in joyous spree. In search of peace through coarse terrains From Himalayan caves to
Simple strips, Some woods and shrubs. Deserted or inhabited, Explored or not. Islands, They have a certain character, A saintly serenity. it is there like a sage, ever waiting To embrace those lost sailors Coming washed ashore. An isle of
What use books, knowledge, ways to see the world, To learn to deal with life, the laws and men? What use to know protection and defense, And poetry, why flags are rolled and then unfurled? for what is it to
‘Twas on the eve of St Agnes’ Day, When young virgin’s minds fly astray; Stacey lay her body bare To January’s freezing air. She cast her liquid ebon eyes, Up to the boundless starry skies, Hoping to find in that
I have figured what is eternity, In longing, and boring hours of a day, Eternity could be anxiety, In half-second before a kiss would lay; Could love be measured in eternities? Does love subtract from life for lack of it?
A sage plant scrambles for the mob, walking out of bed and begs for a death. The adolescence had become graphic. Do you agree with the splurge of moonlight under the street light? The unborn stink was hovering after the
From farthest East, or more precise The forests vast on India’s breast, Rose hymns of wisdom that never dies, The words of knowledge, forever best. Those hymns were born from wisest hearts, As throats would trill in sombre shades; They
The Muse Who is the Muse that stalks my Mind? Who is the Muse this poem, propels? Or does the poem, Muse impel? Who is the Muse in Meditation For attention protests? Answers I seek from my gentle sage. “Your
She does not see herself as the matriarch, but age and wisdom dictate that no-one is more deserving. Since his demise she has stood alone at the head, guiding with sage counsel and devotion. Loved and revered by those who
A child plays by a window-pane in his home nigh a floral-land; A dancing rose by a dell caught his eyes with ruddy spell. Like a wind, runs the boy to the lawn, casting toy. Flutters beside some fallen hoes
In time warp, to find the fell of a dark moon my thoughts bring out a birthday gift. The first step in fog discovers the sharp edge of kindness. Who will believe this black and white, suicide of a sage?
What manner of global icon so venerated? A sage of global repute, a demi-god politically deified, a martyr once resurrected and a hero eternally celebrated. Deeply rooted in the annals of Africa’s peculiar history are your seemingly unachieveable and unparalleled
Wisdom and Ignorance The ignorant always attack the weak in packs like vultures While wise men offer a way out of your worst troubles Some ignorant men even come as wolf in sheep’s clothing But are no match for a
Shed the mood Blue Open your heart, feel the world which seems so new Things may not change, Many angels or demons will stay down the memory lane, Perspective and change in attitude is the clue, Shed the mood Blue.
As the tram runs on the rails, Weather bitten houses emerge telling tales, Revolutionaries’ urge for freedom, Idealism in poetry and fiction, Reminiscent of immortal singers, Dancers in their grace, Tears trickle down in claustrophobia; yearning for a home which
Reading esoteric science books I can foresee how a human being looks! Getting to know myself Starting to organize my bookcase shelf A visible being I am indeed Knowing the invisible me, I feel I am freed Freed from running
All it takes is one mistake. Don’t make them last mistakes from the past. Beauty and the beast they met at the feast. Beauty played its part by residing in the heart. Appearances are kept by those who are adept.
There was no beginning no ending. Beyond tomorrow you will be, what you were not. Words would disappear, only meaning will be left. The interval ceases to be from ’wasness’ to open pathway. When you are not ready I will
At the end of the thought was sadness. When temple lies broken a little white lotus comes up on the tranquil lake. A cute word enters the lone voice, stands down, collapses, retreats into silence. A chaste tree becomes a
(1) In old time, Before the sun stopped circling around us; Before it started to work as a painter of our shadows and the shadow of time over place; Before it adopted the hobby to boil sand inside a vessel
Why am I like this? Why am I like that? Why am I…me…? Or possibly, My alienated mind; Exceptionally perceives, Sees the same World, Like you but; From a different eye. My being feels so outcast, Like the most complex
though moo cho yars older, i (bovine cuddly name = hay4four at aol dot com), could feign 2b a frat house bro by undergoing a facial augmentation – despite lacking dough unlike the multimillionaires here in lower merion, where a
A strong feeling but fading thought An internal battle of something that was lost The sadness sweeps across my body and heart It’s hard to accept I’m a memory, in the distant part But once I claimed your heart It’s
From morn to night, there I go To stand and watch few people; Who comes and go like a dream, In the little town where I dwell. Beside the fire that burns merrily I study the silent little waterfalls, As
Metallic spacecrafts cloud the sky Griffins, Dragons and Fairies spread their wings and fly Mermaids come on the back of Dolphins singing their sacred song of Precedent Well I wouldn’t of believed it either if I hadn’t of seen it
So much I keep inside for fear you won’t believe, That thought is terrifying on its own, I’m scared you would think that I’d set out to deceive, So I’ll walk this winding path all alone. Sometimes I’m confused and
Sunlight streaming through the window The curtains fluttering in gentle breeze Scented sheets scattered around the desk Me, seated with my feet aloft my chair Pen in mouth, mind lost in thought A faraway look in my eye. A letter
Never in those sizzling conflicts displaying the pink eyes you were able to reach me. Was it metagenesis, forgetting your selfhood? Fragments of a beast were floating on sea. Was umblicus of death broken in the crotch of a mother?