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.
The thief helped the blind man up his front steps caressed his elbow and asked about lucky numbers and did he dream about more than one thing – was there smell and touch and sound, how could he tell if
O light, where liveth thee? O light, darkness kills me. O light, will you ever come? O light, you only seek some. O light, why does dark haunt me in your presence? O light, go away, you have no essence.
A school shirt is a memoir; a relic. I left mine several years back tainted underneath the gray box, painted. Written on it were friends’ farewell notes some from lovers some rubbish anecdotes. Tattered was its pocket Ripped were the
Destiny played its role By mingling the two divine souls. It was matter of chance When God took its stance. The two couldn’t do much Except being clutched. The commendable wavelength Added on to the unbeatable strength. Despite the social
Her beauty was captivating sweet of heart, flustered within shades of hazel searching still luster. She seemed adrift the tides vacant stare of sadness walking lovelorn shadows on mystic nights. She was perfect the other half of me, pertinent as
Just like mantises, hurrying to finish his last embrace, so to be taken by the husks of his beloved; Like a butterfly, flying to the sun, but hunted by a pale lamb hanging on the dust of the road; Like
(1) What echo says in his revert? It says, I have no dwelling; not at furrowed paths or nooks or crooks, not at mountain peaks or in shadow vales, not at bottoms of pets, not in mouse-holes, or in cloaks
I. If all lives mattered, then Black lives would matter. And blood on a street in Ferguson, MO would not have been splattered; And a body would not have lay there unattended for four and a half hours after. II.
Found yourself yet, or running around in circles, finding a corner to sit, and think on what’s left, and what’s right to do? Took a dive into dark seas, or mesmerized by light enough, to see what’s deserved, or just
I could feel it stir, Arousing from a deep sleep outside time, lingering in the shadows, Shying away from the naked light, Throbbing in sync with my melodramatic heart, Almost ripping the fabric of my skin. I could feel it
My daughter’s face appearing in charcoal, her sunshine smile bursting from the black. Creativity soothes me like a drug, anticipating the heartfelt thanks I do not deserve. I will seem special, a façade, a falsehood, a temporary reprieve. The heightened
Another minute without you, has passed, As sands pour grandly in a timely fall, And so did leaves that on the ground have massed, When they obliged to heed the Winter’s call; But wintry days lingered, to fill my life,
This river breaks on rocks unmoving. Soft music unceasing on violin strings. My heart plays silent tunes in darkness. A picture melts into nothingness. ……………………………… Gather them, If you can, those broken pieces before the waves swallow. The sea is
(1) At ‘Bab Al-nairab gate’,(1)on a pile of wet smoke, I meet a sackcloth, a muddy bear fur and two women; one holds by her amputated palm the tail of ‘Sayf Aldawla’s(2) robe, the other sings a rocky song. The
What’s life but a phase Before we reach a better place And what you feel in your heart Sometimes we all set apart There are days we are crumbling under And days again When we reach for thunder And when
The forensic experts came this morning With their dusters, blades and little poly bags They searched what was left of his heart And found traces of sympathy Carelessly scattered around its chambers By the sweet maid Who made his bed
Memories of a friend that was in the past, Memories of a friend that will always last, Memories of the times that will never be Forgotten. “Oh how those days were but They just didn’t last.” Roll back the time
Sperms spilled on thighs When moon was hung over trees To engage reverberations, Contesting erratic moods Outside echoes Stitching white milk into black tears, It was not for the deliverance From pain of separation And drink the eyes: The waves
Turnover my secret past I have to dig up my future In the hour of crumbling walls and dark clouds. Pale moon becomes a beacon in another version of solitude where nobody speaks of sores and premature death. I stay
My father’s hands big as thirteen inch radials knuckles thick like good tread cover more miles than the road we’re on driving south to Shiloh, south to his hometown I’m along to steer free of ditches roadside stands slapped shut
You made ascent to high thresholds of dreams, Much higher than where angels dwell on wings, And all the cost of sleep your mirth redeems With sheer magic the near-experience brings; You fluttered in my every reverie, As though a
Why do I feel like this tonight? Getting confused between what’s wrong and right. Always thinking about you whether its day or night. Can’t stay alone when you are out of my sight. Remaining depressed and taking unnecessary fight. Please
The olde wooden rocker was rustic and worn; no one could remember the year it was born. It rocked with one partner for decades of years but now it was silenced and all were in tears. The faithful old rider
I waited for you brother day and night within the shadows among the tents I prayed for your return. Then they brought you from the field you were calm like the desert sands. A silhouette so delicate and calm to