Self-realisation poems bring the best collection of short and long self-realisation poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great self-realisation rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these self-realisation poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on self-realisation are here for you.
In the solitary confinement of my mind, I have reasoned, recorded and debated A thousand times; over the reasons, And decisions that ensued. Of everything that happened And everything that never happened. And I have realised but two things. What
I made a mask for myself one day So colorful, filled with glee but beneath the surface lies another aspects of my personality. Nobody sees me cry Because i designed the mask for smiling Nobody can sees the pain Because
The bygone art, a dead shrine; Thou not dead, thou live… shall live By art of carve that plays on and will it play Forever, timeless, in century’s lap The beauty, thou struck me a year back: So calm, so
She is within an ever-lasting atmosphere, She is beneath the never lasting core, She prays, searches, hopes and fights, To find this never lasting door, A door leading to peace and promise, She is running out of time, So why
The allure of ‘what ifs’, ungratefully moves, outside her niches, to break or make a dreamer’s riches; Her sweet fragrance to clog the air, O mistress blind, lovely and fair. Walking his truth, his ground unmoved, so the clouds of
I have just received a call from him, the unemployed educated youth, has come out of his house. He must be standing on a bus stop, in the busy hours of the Saturday evening. The whole world suffers from the
Gifting his ‘ Wings of Fire ‘ to the gen. next The angel has taken flight to regions unknown . Standing tall in the midst of admiring youths Kindling their minds with the light of knowledge Inspiring them to dream
Midstream, in the stillness, a boatman rests on his oars. a lone bird in flight defines the sky. dark visions of rain dance into his sights. he heeds to a call from some distant star and pulls to shore. in
This came to me while sitting in my room reading poems of doom and gloom. Other poems of despair and dread, even poems were people wished they were dead. What, did you miss taking our meds? ‘Cause you can’t do
Leaves blown asunder Like images from a dream. Rushing to journeys end In life’s endless stream. Undercurrents swirling Dark as a cloudy day Smooth as silk above Warmed by the morning ray. There comes a meander, a bend In life’s
I walked away through the lonely corridors, The light of the mighty tree of my life faded away. Yet there was a hidden spark of beauty in my heart, Waiting under the shadows of loneliness for you, but you ran
We are called a “shadow”, they say we should never have existed at first.So they treat us like mere entities that exist only in their dreams, We are called ,’ugly’ because we are black ,because we are different , Our
Couldn’t have been the star, that guides from horizon, ushering into the twilight what destiny holds for thee Couldn’t have been the angel whose thoughts inspire goodness calling you to a sinless abode ringing the bells of virtue Couldn’t have
Count it my pleasure to behold your eyes, As my future therein, I used to see, None as wondrous did nature yet devise, That was endeared by half as much, to me; The special twinkle that there so I find,
You heard what you wanted to hear You felt what you wanted to feel You ignored all the evidence to the contrary And resigned yourself to the fates But what you did not see Was the turmoil that started it
You know I do not hope any intermission, between life and death. My path goes nowhere. A hiatus between the mirrors has questions. From childhood I was always floating between the meanings of lessons unknown. I longed for straight humilities.
Stone A gust alive; a redwood dead Sleep softwood your peaceful breath A gust dies Stone in stillness; still, revealed From emptiness a gust begins, like water, carving the stone around A grain of sand, unknown, found Reach for the
Ash Wednesday 2018 “I always buy The Big Issue in London because round our way, it’s a load of Romanians. I say, you should look after Your own first”. The ash-smudge as fresh on her forehead as a virgin, painted
Knowledge Is Power so listen to your intuition, it is the voices of the Angels so make yourself familiar with them, they hold the key to your destiny and the light within, to deny them is to deny yourself great
Illusions… are so beautiful… aren’t they? so tempting… so alluring… so full of promises of happiness… Illusions built of illusions … that pull you so deep within… that at one point the self becomes an Illusion… thoughts become dreams …
This is mine not yours I control every force. Take it easy and share Selfishness is not fair. Greedy declare Ownership, to build Castles on sand. Waves smoothly Shave castles and run. Systems of a fool Abide by harsh rule.
Daily chores has no place for sentiment each one has plans earmarked for the day Busy person has no time to spare time with near and dear lazy person has no mind to think about near and dear Present generation
One Life, one Fate, one Love… That one-time, ravishing, sudden love, peeling the layers of years lived in apathy, finally reaching your soul; Times, when you were anonymous to yourself, walking hollow and weary in penumbra of your life; And
She’s loved by many but walks alone. It’s not because she has no one to comfort her, or that she isolates herself from those surrounding her, but it’s because she’s all the strength and comfort she needs. While others find
Bent tree, drooping branches, wilting leafs aged from time Knurled fingered, hands wrinkled much like mine. Skin browned and aged spots, Face cracked and crevassed, Sagging skin from sun and time. We are old and that is fine, we’ve aged
I wished once to be a mountain Rivers flowing by my side My feet resting where waters drain Seawards, and there to meet the tide Then, wished I to be that river Meandering on course diverse Heading to sea till
That grave alchemy of cold fusion, of turning mercury into gold, makes me undone in a fit of anger. Punished before the crime committed, of saying no for yes, of disobedience in the face of a command, I am becoming
Strangers on the street stare at you in awe thinking to themselves that girl’s got everything; even the people closest to you are blind, blind to the storm brewing in your mind. Your best friend says your pretty without makeup.