Sef poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of sef poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on sef are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
The air is crisp the clouds are low Nature is speaking its bellowing tone. Wind me, blows me, and lifts me, flutters With reds, yellows, greens and browns Air ward bound, moving ground to ground Picking me up as it
It was getting dark. The insane curve of greed was rising. I would not draw the boundaries between the words. The finch was immersed in soliloquies and light was waiting inside the seeds. I open my eyes and yell at
They say Dreams are not Real… And, that it’s an illusion we live in! Would it have been possible, to think of our Independence, Of India being free, had not… the HEROES of our HISTORY dreamed of freeing it, from
Education ought to bring us out of dark Ought to take us to lights bright Ought to enrich our knowledge And make our cognitive powers sharp. But is it true of it today? Does it open new vistas? Does it
I dance in glee, Wild and free, As a butterfly fluttered, Alighting on me. I close my eyes, In rapturous ecstasy, Of a moment that, Creates a magic in my soul. A brief spell of, ‘It’s beauty and love’, A
I’m closing my eyes, not to see the rain falling on the rags of autumn; not to see the trees abandoning themselves to the wind- ragged soldiers which forgot about fear, abandoning themselves to the desperate courage, when there is
Her smile takes my breath away, She’s perfect in every way, Her lips are soft and cold Seeing her everyday puts me in that romantic mood. Her love is kind and full of surprise Like waking up on Christmas morning
If thoughts were paper boats, I’d catch one by its sail, And gently steer it, Towards the light that plays peekaboo, On your skin, That waltzes against mine, Stubble scathing through the softness, Till I can smell your breath, Contouring
Beneath this yonder twinkling isle I laid down for a while; Amidst this firmamental lea I saw a pulsar shine with glee. Soon I ventured into a dream and saw the lign aloes gleam ; a foreigner to this lonesome
No more. Can’t take no more. Struggle with sanity is draining me dry with each passing day. People pride themselves in pruning their puritanical egos to ‘adhere’ and ‘belong’. Should I too? Because i ain’t me no more. Do I
Once,I remembered, as a child from my past. Running under the sun; that, O’ so-called a green land. Upon the scorching ground I still playing around. Where the sun rose large and pulsing over the forest; it was baking hot
If only we were bones We wouldn’t throw so many stones Separated by this skin We seem to forget we’re all human Brother killing brother All for their flesh’s color Inequality uncontrolled Because of the lies we’ve all been told
Velvety fur so soft and smooth, Brown wings of hope clinging to the truth; It’s hirsute body glowing in the plethora of the fire, The moth flies an inch closer; Wings of fire, it still flies, An evanescent memory of
Oh my love, Thank you for bringing me this precious gift, Life without you my love, Will be nearly impossible, I rather stare death right in the face, Than losing you for more than one second my love, I feel
So I find myself once again in the shadow of the crescent moon Back to the marshlands in the throes of an ancient gossamer Forest…well I can still hear your voodoo beckoning the sprits And I too can feel the
And there I sat at the table without a thing to eat. We often take the sweetest and most precious things life has to offer for granted. The thought persisted. Of all things I decided to bake a pie. All things
Dreams never stay the same, They change frequently. Your goal is not a game- As others would see. From an athlete, To social service. You don’t compete- But you never miss. Once those become an illusion, You’re finding new dreams.
Today, I will not shift to baritone Every time a lady calls. I will not pretend to be watching Formula 1 While my eyes are on Nigella Lawson. I will help Mrs. Rangaswami across the street Even while nobody’s watching.
This morning I awoke, You were the first thing on My mind: You were the sunrise Spreading your golden rays Across the sky. This morning I woke up You were the fresh rose In my garden Your tender petals blowing
Amidst of joyous merriment sitting lonesome in solitude Own shadow as company at a tether’s end fortitude With none of any inclination for any indulgence to ignite Reminiscing all times of yore with so much there to excite Am sure
You bring fear in the eyes, You dont differentiate between truth and lies, Neither you look out for good and bad, You just make everyone sad. You come like a thunder in the sky, When there are no birds which
A poem dedicated to john Lennon on his birthday: 9th of October Birthday and rebirth Celebrate it forever Dwellers of mother earth A newborn’s first cry That no one can deny John Lennon’s expression Correcting every mission No other year
Happiness lies in : Finding joy in little things, Every little blessing, Significance of the insignificant, Enjoying every moment of life. Graceful aging with beauty, Gazes growing with love, Waking up to a new dawn, Admiring the tiniest things. Moments
Let’s take a walk Just you and me and none of our goddamn pretensions None of the constant editing of words and phrases in our daily interactions Let’s say things as they come to mind Hell, let’s just not say
Well and the Anthony I knew was a scared and lost little boy confused about life and sought sanctuary by drinking himself out of reality…well I thought I could save him but he only ended up using me so I
Bird with colorful freedom Slumbers in a golden cage With clipped wings And away from the ostentious world The free cadaverous bird Lured away from self discovery Will surely fall into An unfathomable pit of failure The floundering bird Struck
It was a complete disaster. I will listen to moon tonight, while writing your name on bikini top, holding the pigeons. The birds had abandoned the walnut tree in haste. Between them can you see a butchered image of little
Sometimes you cry. And that’s okay. It doesn’t make you weak. It never means you’re frail. It means you’re strong… Stronger than they know. Sometimes you have to let some bad out to make room for more strength. And, my
Life, Who can’t dance to your tunes? Today you make us smile, Tomorrow the pain is unbearable, The day after that, We are filthy rich, A month later, We cannot afford three meals a day… What game are you playing
Beautiful God, so beautiful in truth and glory Wonderful God, so wonderful and so holy Awesome God, awesome to me of all the universe God reigns in power and dignity Ruling in love and in His mercy Leading the way
This poem hates you. This poem thinks you’re dirt. What does it look like down there? What does the ground taste like? This poem is tough. This poem is hard. This poem is hate. How does that make you feel?
Let’s go down the memory lane, There she stood on the doorway, With her heavy school bag on, Puzzled to choose a way. The little princess walked in, With a little nervousness, Choosing words wisely, Trying not to make a