Saline poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of saline poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on saline are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Crestfallen tears mixed with the salty brine of the expansive ocean. Time seemed to pause, as if for one brief fleeting second. He took a plunge into the icy deep. Happily submerging himself in the inviting energizing enrapturing emerald liquid.
The quarter moon has arrived on seaside, The carved bay being limited by sandline Is quite pleased with saline touch And is watched carelessly by drowsy moon. The breathing silence of distant forest, Feels happy for not being assailed by
O Matchless Artist ! The Creator or genius scientist. You capture my heart with awesome wondering, And surprises, full of applauding. When I see those multimillion varieties of pretty flowers, I marvel at your marvellous designs. O perfect designer———–! You
Travelling with along, stout dark man In the burstling city thoroughfare Talking incessantly about immediate enjoyment Of unnatural genre was of good old days, When we found ourselves shopping Delusion in cramped dimly lit economic pub Where the roaring music
Sanmati, my angel, has decorated jawline. Aside puts cold anger and does repine Negative things in her life, but always supine Merry things about the wide world divine. Against me or her things she despise saline. Tough tenderness she got
Your genome was climbing down. I hate to count the steps. Feathers hurt sometimes after the end of flying. How far was the moment of dust? You were still swimming in saline water. A collective guilt will pay the price.
Orang Ulu… loping through mottle-green light of the jungle-track, lighter than dawn-mist and nimble as wild-cat. Hunt-hounds around-him are bounding and wailing a death-hymn or baying for deer-spoor or fat-ox or wild-boar. Ulu agape at the edge of a clearing,
I don’t turn my tears away because it never comes without reason. It follows my footsteps and digging my pains, those are rains streaming from eyes as rain falling from the sky on earth. I am afraid of darkness No
Across dark thresholds sleep my dormant dreams, Inspired by aspects seen while I’m awake, Epitome of sweetness, my love seems, That nectar bees seek earnestly to take; A flower bloomed from primal buds of May, And nurtured in the sun,
Last night while the breeze touched my face and moonlight was bright, Last night when I accidently woke up to the soft light on my face, I suddenly remembered that as a little girl I always wanted to stare at
Sobbed I more than bubbling rain, more and more Laughed like shooting sun, on days and nights by your side! Crumbling lips and shutting eyes soothed the love pain, The pangs of arrows in my heart of thundering motions; I
Not contentious I will put you in moon for another rain. The invisible sex ticks the gravity of mouth that eats the murder. My body becomes an emperor even for the dust. Not the naked cloud. Blood colors the name
Words in didos float like floes – In a Pontos of egos endorsing remorse; To pinkoes playing with awes and throes- Curses of chaos, fouls, and woes! Souls hiding behind words transpose- Sallowed ones hiding behind flaws! Some say their
To drill a hope in the drowned soul was very difficult, winds had blown away the talisman. Stress was palpable, you could tear the weather with empty hands. Mists had walked into the houses to pick up the burning cheeks.
Envision freedom as a circle spanning three hundred and sixty degrees And sitting at the circle’s center you are at liberty to swivel and tilt at will Mesmerized by the seemingly limitless opportunities that beckon Within each degree a fountainhead
Racism is a poisoned thorn that is imbedded in the heart of America. At first glance, it appears the thorn is merely a sliver creating a small amount of—discomfort but not really a wound worth considering after all, it will
Mental Illness not just a topic of discussion. A subject that many distance themselves from. As if they will suffer severe repercussion. The true reality of this illness is cast down. Ignored and simply dismissed. Biological and spiritually. This illness
Was it by Coincidence or design That you came to be mine if only for the night The only night I wished for no dawn We stemmed from different worlds but we blossomed in our very own Our language differed
Of beauty, culture and history you are the perfect paradigm, As you resonate through our hearts like a gentle chime. It’s your birthday for the sixty fifth time, We belong to you, just as words do to a mime. Many
I was basking in the glorious Sun, when that delicate creeper tapped at my feet and innocently smiled, said it’s called Love. It promised me sweet smelling blossoms everyday, its weightlessness around my body, if I nurtured it with attention
The air whirled around in circles. Dried leaves whistled beneath my feet. Something was trying to delay me. Something strange was afoot. Rain started to drip, drip, drip. Then torrents down on my face. I was surely getting the message.
rapture by the daily musical affairs of life in strides of flashes and bittersweet escapades with females that left in trials of bruises and bashes of the ego and the mind. I’m trying to capture the brilliance that is the
Day comes and night follows Night goes and day comes Hours turn into days, days into months Every day that goes by Increases our age by days, months and years. From babies, we grow into young kids Then teens, followed
Unsown peaks of fear under aggression. I ask you to make a choice between I and inventing yourself. I will not abandon the tree: the animal, renunciation. The belief and emptiness will find symbols of foreverness. Ephemeral colors; Leaves will