Selflove poems bring the best collection of short and long selflove poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great selflove rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these selflove poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on selflove are here for you.
And I don’t care how high you are Is your mind open? Blissful emotions exploding in these tunes Mind blown, useless frowns Wake me up This life is endless, it’s passing Moving fast or not fast enough Fully loaded,Let me
Make it out, what’s inside you; for the beholds something special for you. Try and hear what’s yelling from inside you, and let that totally, and wholly absorb you. For your very life is not moderate , and so should
Each one of us has a story And one that should be shared Not one that’s strict and rigid Nor overly prepared But one that comes straight from the heart The journey you’ve been taking Of things you’ve done, the
The evening was cool, dark and heavy, I took the path less trodden by leading into the dense, deep, dark forest; From a distance I could hear the breaking of the waves. Alas!! How fortunate they are…..! I don’t have
May there be mercy this day of mourning. Fly flags half-mast for human rights’ regress. The “forgotten” poor, white male minority are distressed by their societal mortality. Clinging to obsolete “common” privilege: sexism, lying, and xenophobic “wisdom”. They are what
I saw her walking down the long winding road I felt her rustling among the leaves She merrily sprinted on the green-brown branches She felt the moist clouds on her finger tips I felt her running through my veins I
Life’s daily cycles: Mind thinks, feels, dreams. Intellect reasons; Heart craves; The “I” deluded, thinks it acts, It enjoys, it suffers; Waking, dreaming, sleeping cycles. Each in Cycle their own, revel; In the dim background; The silent ever Wakeful Awareness,
I’m sorry, terrified, I truly fear snakes. To kill one, I don’t have what it takes, Its bite I’ve never had through my veins, But my fragile thoughts with horror it stains. Its hiss, more louder in my ear than
Gaze up with eyes adoring With the world a world away Let filtered light seep deep within Along your heart’s highway Dream dreams of golden goodness While in rapture you await The drenching shower of ecstasy That will all fears
In culture of counterfeits a snip of intelligent gene brings the pink tears for the brown eyes. A virgin goes for a spade in the naked sun. Let me think of polymorphism. Can there be an answer- for oblique questions?
The rain drops have poured right through my eyes Right again the scars reveals themselves again Shared the broken heart into pieces Wondering the knight might still come Telling the pain it over But pushes hard feeling me I let
”You live in a queer world of dreams, Mr. Ahmed Turning odd imaginations to mere fancy words Bejeweled by baffling metaphors and similes That one mightn’t get the hang of with ease Why don’t you eschew the pesky rhyme rule,
She exists in the body, a visual myth Materializing out of stone A solitary figure carefully etched Into the mind’s eye, breathing Brooding, testing the air for its secrets Tasting the wind for things to come She is to my
Faded prima donnas pave the way God’s drunk and moves with a swagger Another kid bites a burning bullet today He never stops to stare or linger Proven faithful lie their way to the altar Another lamb to bring to
That’s your song I listen to every night, foolish I feel and still I think you may come someday back to my surprise, That’s what you always did back then when you were mine, some sweet surprise. Those country songs,
Overwhelmed, the sky precipitates, pouring its guts out; luckily I sit on the dry side of the pane, snugly… smugly… till… A pigeon flits, looking for its 6 inches, as all around birds fight for every inch; a dog dives
Flora and fauna Never abuse Take the right decision Never to lose Natural balance Always keep and choose Uphold your look Cosmic law is the book You are not my master I am not yours Different creatures Ruled by same
The human? That is not a question mark, but purely a contemplative issue. Dilemma, bridge connecting light from dark. And timelessness, cocooned in timely tissue. Recumbent on duality of mind, pulled multiple directions by his cares, the human, guilty, slumbers
Somewhere and somehow, how and where I don’t know. But from ‘twinkle twinkle little star’, to the melody’a thing of beauty is a joy forever’we grow up. The past 15 years can be compared to the life of the ‘Brook’.
She came to visit me from America, Everybody shouted, she is my replica. She is very pretty, white and pink, She wore her jacket, made of mink. My little lady always looked very busy, Serving tea with her beautiful tea-cosy.
Your intimidating eyes Encapsulates the skies Of thunder and hailstorm yet you are so warm.. Those hairs leaning down when no one’s around carelessly kissing your forehead As if something has been left unsaid!!! Ohh..Look at your mole On the
“Don’t whisper something in my ear, So sweet your voice be, that I’ll collapse, Together we be, just you and I, till eternity, No worry, no care about the time lapse. Don’t you appear in the bowl of my eye,
That smile… ooh, that smile. It has its own style… taming the wild. Bringing out the child within an old soul. That smile has its own glow … an independent show. Among the undeserving … that smile just keeps on
One summers day in mid-July, I sauntered down a rocky path, secluded and forbidding; the trees and vines were on all sides, entangled, strong, and hidden; I trudged along the darkened path with fear for one full hour, with help,
A thought so perturbing that questions our state of being what is the purpose of this life and living? too short a time and the doubts unending this countdown in sync with our birth sooner demystified the better it is
Living between the deaths as a witness to a silence between the words. Leaves had fallen: yet a dry tree was still flowering exuberantly under a scorching sun. My day has come, but I was far away from shores of
Used stamp collecting of childhood days didn’t cost much. The knowledge revealed lasted for the lifetime. What happened to the electric car? Its picture was on a stamp postmarked 1917. Pictures on stamps reveal what and where. Much geography is
I am a warrior, fighting the battles of life’s challenges, tripping over the cracks on the sidewalks, drinking cold coffee, listening to sad songs, working on taxes, calling in borderline sick, and driving the combative zone of rush-hour traffic, what