Senses poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of senses poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on senses are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
An act of wilfulness, and deliberate sustenance, towards the immaculate. Searching for the known the one that’s ‘unknown’ to the senses – too naive. Pushing towards that unsubstantial substance, does it truly exist? Focused solely on the gain, not minding
It’s a happy day! After hundreds of submissions, days of reviews and a month full of happy poems, we finally bring to you the 5 lucky winners of Happiness Happens contest who have won prizes amounting to 100$ (each winning
Love is like an aroma of flowers, Stimulating the senses, Waking the ravenous hunger, Of an insatiable thirst for, Unhurried passion. A love lies beneath, That’s a light from within, With glowing embers of passion, Hearts racing in unison, Emotions
“A Noseless Woman” Once I saw a wretched woman, She was badly mistreated by a demon. She was an unfortunate wife, Her husband cut her nose with a knife. For her there was no place to hide, She sold glass
The vagaries of life had shattered me down, Made me a coercive slave, submitting to dealers’ erotic frown, But I felt those moments with an absconding pain, As you came to, my life of lame. Your night of birth was
In those moments you succumb to the windless state, before mills dormant arms When you shed colored skies and scented breeze, letters detach from their horizontal stance. This familiar place of utter embraced distance, this far edge of nameless field.
As I tiptoe past her door In that room, in that bed, My darling sleeps. The thought of her touch, Her kiss, inflames my body Like the taste of Spanish wine. I open the forbidden door, The hot musky aroma
I wanted to write something But my brain refused to spare anything I got agitated and start searching some others’ brain for lending I did get a brain dead man who was sleeping but found him to be still breathing
A tavern Simple-complex, happy-low, A water hole full of regulars Heartbroken, shy or smitten Wealthy or wily smugglers. A rustic smoking a cigar, Passing colloquial remarks, A skillful pianist playing, A journey an artist embarks. A wanderer at heart, I
After dinner protocol you kiss me on the cheek Wrap your arms around me to remind me that you’re free The taste of mint is in your kiss but your sweetness is in doubt All those broken promises are draining
Wake up in the morning with no stress,feeling love in excess even forgot my address forget all the bad of men with no regrets turn around on my bed touch my woman and compliment her nightdress touching her hips and
Walking in the bush, late in the afternoon: Spring winding trails Among Plantae et Animalia. An independent world —Sort of realm of alien species Welcomes your senses with a storm of small flies (genus Drosophila) Which playfully floods the air,
Far away from mankind and society, far I wandered. Through bleak plains and screeching drums, Dragging along my body, weary from the residues of development, My eyes are sore from enduring all this mortal architecture that’s slowly diminishing in my rear
A waft of breeze touched my face. A puff of scent filled my senses. You brushed my hand, Gently, as you walked passed. I turned. Tranced. Bewitched. My eyes followed. I saw you over those busy shoulders. Your blue shirt.
Making promises is his habit Violating is his nature Traits make one like him Why then the feelings capture. Recoiling of impatient intestines Swings of heart, jumps of spirits Chest throbbing with impatience Is the specific poser that hurts? For
Roses are for the soul, giving peace and poise to one and all. Colours and hues so charming , their enchantment is undeniably heart-warming. ‘Roses’ word full of fragrances, delight to the soul and freshens one’s senses. Awesome flowers having
Heavens descended Agni, Varuna, Indra & Yama¹ lined up To witness a Swayamvar² Of a heart with a soul, A reunion on earth & a Meghdutam³ With a cloud as pen The universe as canvas Was asked to describe The
Companion, the blissful pal who knows it all the blink of the lid the twist of the lip raises toast with glee one spirit setting you free frolic …the one your bright moon and your setting sun same energy similar
I wondered, What does freedom mean to me? Perhaps, it could be liberty From the internal struggle, That I undergo everyday… In the distance, Through my window, I saw a little bird in a cage, And I wondered, What would
The whistle blows to sound the charge and over the top they bustle and barge, covered from head to toe in mud and soon tainted with flesh and blood. Up the ladder with slippery rungs, a scream of rage from
The pebbled road beneath my feet feels fresh, The calluses account for the miles they have tread. The path contours my tiny feet, Running patter towards the country fair. Rushing into the mangrove, I feel the wet grass tickle my
Disabled A person having a physical or mental condition that limits movements, senses, or activities A complex phenomenon, reflecting an interaction between features of a person’s body and features of the society in which he or she lives Developmental differences
I shut my eyes And settle in Familiar creaks and sighs From the house within The distant night guard’s rattle A car driving its owner to bed The muted rustle of pigeons Perched precariously On the ledge At the edge
Just a look and they cast a spell on me those beautiful enchanting eyes; As they captivated my senses, yet emancipating my heart into the skies; Elevated much by the setting around, those dark eyes in a darker guise; And
Go sleep, where I entombed thee don’t wake up and walk haunting everyone you come across.. Go lie down in that beautiful coffin don’t stray and seek anymore you are dead now and dead are not supposed to walk.. You
Over the sands seagulls screech and call, Where the blue waters gleam, The battering waves slap and fall, To break a pebbles dream. The vast wet shores do girdle hills, High steep and ancient, And the sunlight haltingly spills, The
‘Twas on the eve of St Agnes’ Day, When young virgin’s minds fly astray; Stacey lay her body bare To January’s freezing air. She cast her liquid ebon eyes, Up to the boundless starry skies, Hoping to find in that
I wonder what you think Of the human race From your celestial pedestal Above time and space? In our lil’ world that revolves, How long have you been involved? When you peer out through fiery eyes, What do you see?
Imagine a day filled with poetry! A poem that wakes you up by planting a soft kiss on your forehead, another one that sits by your side when you are sipping that perfect cup of coffee. A poem having breakfast
The twilight hues of the evening sky, Take away the blues of the soul, A palette of serene colors spread, Like love intoxicating the senses. The ethereal twilight hour, With remnants of a glowing ember, Intense violet hues wrap me,
Temptation- Part One Its evening and I’ve finished my class. I run through stairs, pass by corridors, And brisk walk down the lane. A dancer swaying in the peak hour trance. I reach the station, no intention to miss the
By the mirror side she sat, On a small caned chair, Looking at the tall figure, Combing her long dark hair, Frown on the little face, To resolve her loneliness, A baffled look stared at her, A playmate she wanted