Sherman Alexie poems bring the best collection of short and long sherman alexie poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great sherman alexie rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these sherman alexie poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on sherman alexie are here for you.
I’m scrunched in partially obscured view seating, hands at my temples, elbows pressed to the balcony rail. Look up, Sherman Alexie! I squint through borrowed glasses, willing your signature pen to drop, your writer’s eyes to find me. I’m cheap.
At a liquid time flowing between two visions, Before we imprisoned our breaths inside cages of a calendar, Before bird feathers fell down into inkwells, Before we covered our dead with an elegy and a confusion written on papyrus leaves
Love is a strange thing indeed Some people die because of it Some people live because of it some people starve for it The people where I live definitely do Death is also a strange thing Some people just go
I find a rainbow far away, when pain rains on me incessantly, realizing the value of life, finding joy in everything around me. Seize the day’s mirth never putting it off, knowing tomorrow is unsure, feeling unique in my way,
When morose cloud mourns why it showers heavy rains it sheds tears of melancholy to me why it hurts and pains when the uncle sun is furious why it excretes red fireballs its heat scorches all creators every one prays
Those who don’t need the spotlight, Can live without all the cheer. They can climb heights, Without any fear. So what, if they don’t have a popular name? Or if they don’t run for fame! They have their RESPECT, And
I’m sitting over here and you’re sitting over there, I always know my “allocated” chair, I have to admit I am sceptical though, I do my best to never let it show. I cringe when I remember the things I’ve
In mangled bodies and severed limbs, the blood gives up its claim. A twisted window blocks the landscape of silvered faces. Nobody talks with the moon. Night burns, the fat floats on the dead mouthings. Death has the foulest taste.
Critical conscience is not an admittance of ambivalence, But a philosopher once said: “You threw a rock at my head Fred!” A road along a path is but a journey to nowhere, If your cart is broken by a donkey
It had rained streets painted black tiny lakes of standing water dimpled by drops still falling from evergreens city air fresh as it gets sky turning a painterly shade of blue and foliage green bleeding into morning crossing the bridge
New Soul Journey and Angels all around somewhere on the edge of eternity…I turn around to find my guardian holding out his hand then suddenly I am free of this world as pillars of colors rapture me away and so
Our lives are so filled with negatives that we often forget about the positives We have convinced ourselves that bad news sells, and good news is a side story at best As parents, we love our children dearly, but we
The shrine of Madonna stood tall, The high king’s rapier fell down, not anymore was he the young prince, for he was devoid of all feelings. The shrine of Madonna stood strong, The high king’s blood washed the ivory pedestal,
I used to swoon, gush, internally combust every time i saw your face. At 15, I thought you were sculpted by the greek Gods, I thought each time your skin grazed upon mine, I felt electricity within. Exhilaration. At 20,
One’s existence was threatened by the overseeing iguana like crested disguise. Repressive, explosive eyes. You are trapped in words beneath bewitching smile. The ‘V’ sign for violence becomes more obvious. That hits you in face. The eastern wind is blowing.
It was a slant love. Back to back, lips to lips. Lethal and dark strong yet delicate like spider’s web. A dark side of the moon sending conflicting signals to bacilli- of dirty lane, pink and blue. My pug licks
All the talk, murmurs rushing from room to room anxious dogs unable to please, dark clothes, suppressed expressions, napkins and finger foods piling up, glasses clinking in the kitchen sink with no one around just the weight of all those
You know that sickening stench that comes from a corpse girdled to a steel gurney as, slowly the morbid form degrades and still waits for that last living cell to give in, to wear out or may be just dissected
you are not my gleaming sun you are not the soft, rhythmic beating of my heart you are not constant, sweet music to my ears, nor are you beauty and grace and personified you are not my winged golden seraph,
Caged soul, what makes you sob. One fine day you’re free or forever barred. Caged soul, wonder why you shed tears; I’ve surplus BLISS for all and you; should you ask. Caged soul, what urges you to survive – In
It makes things disappear It creates confusion It prevails till Sun sets in It is welcome only temporarily That is Mist Likewise Ignorance Makes knowledge disappear It creates confusion Till knowledge sets in it prevails It is never welcome We
“What is it that makes you flabbergasted, my dear mortal? This isn’t for the first time you’ve been throttled by the fear of demise” says the death angel while ripping apart my bones. “Why am I still remain, to you,
Like tussoh, I collect snow after the blizzard, churning the quartz, O December. Time to hang my boots and listen the call to quarters. Windows would kill me. I had my horrors I had my wine. The moon was still
Well and some scholars say we are The genetic offspring of Rock 84001 From Mars…Well I believe we were Born out of Gods’ very own heart and Mind still they say Mars was a dying Planet and the inhabitants there
A speck of blue in the limitless black. The infinite of existence. All we know so finite. Like a fish in an aquarium whose universe consists of the aquarium and what little is observable in the immediate surrounding. The fish
Winding down the winter trail Through the dark and snowy veil I came upon a copse of trees And took shelter there amongst the leaves The wind howled throughout the night And gave me such a terrible fright All alone
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
To my best friend My inspiration The rhythm to my rhyme These words in collaboration So smitten with you From the twist of your lips In the corners when you smile To the curl of your toes When you stretch