Sinking poems bring the best collection of short and long sinking poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great sinking rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these sinking poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on sinking are here for you.
Sun sinks slowly twilight looks at the sun and waits for the night to fall with darkness Life also drowns like dusky sinking sun and ends with foggy dusk wearing evening gown A tiny thought sitting on highland stares at
The name, went begging to yield. Dispute was becoming a point of disorder. A fire on ice, I was burning inside. Unabated, the storm was raging in bush. The candor was lost. We were drying up in shade. One eccentric
The winged commuters return to their warm cosy nest for their lovely night rest it is turning cool after the day long scorching burn. the rim of the endless sea turns red the sinking sun casts long yellow shadows the
Tenuous and stretched are our links Precious, yet an incomplete jigsaw Making it arduous to reach a Safe heaven of human interface. It can whither like the autumn leaves Wearily sinking like the sun at dusk, As if there wouldn’t
Bessy now pulls the cart towards their home that day Her size makes pulling baby carts as mere child’s play She’s huge, a Labrador, obtained from Russian friend Trained by cop, we’ll call Tim – that isn’t his real name
Little child in me remembers the phantom, Muscular and masked, Penetrating eyes, Outwitting the enemies in a flash, Reading with bated breath; Here I am glued to the screen, Phantoms running and scaling heights, Crawling with creepers around, With little
Fight me,here I stand, In your costly possessed land, Which you incurred by fate, But I incurred by hard faith. You were gifted the golden throne, But I was gifted your half eaten bone, Still I stand in your possessed
1 She is the tree green and wide abundantly dressed overflowing spreading her sleeves blesses all in her cool shade solitude teems with breezy songs I feel nearer God 2 That autumn tree from this window looks like a young
With a sinking heart he compiled All the memories that are scattered behind He resigned from his past and assign himself for the mankind Jogging on the road of prosperity and snoop in the ways of wind It was just
Something to believe is miles away Searching for reason,one reason,desperately, to give up; Hope I can pretend I am dreaming Tough whirling pain inside, want it to die; Days turned out cloudy and foggy Not a moment to live in..
Suppression and I were rivals Or so I thought; Since that summer which felt More like spring While striving to Suppress a laugh that Escaped my mouth, The hem of my t-shirt Stuffed into my mouth, Amidst an otherwise serious
Before sinking to knees. I will talk to flowers. Day of arrival has come. In death, wisdom of trees will eject the seeds of fire on hip-locked roots. A miracle will raise the bones from the rage of crowd. The
They arrived through the morning post The father, son, and the holy ghost They raised their flag. I raised a toast To all the wretched sinking souls And so we built our little church A little store to peddle hope
Remember those days, time spent together with friends, felt like forever, when looking for the four leafed clover, we would hover all over. Hiding in the bushes and up above the trees, seeking the insects of different species, hide and
A life, lives, many lives – millions struggle. Liars to the left and right of them, in front of them and in back of them, beneath and on top. Everyone dismayed; like those before them none can make a reply.
Charges, a poignant word brimmed with an electric power. that possesses a bitter venom with a dual quality that makes one pessimistic and the other optimistic who deems charges as challenges towards an indelible fame. Yes, the same charges in
The destination of life is same for all, Just the path gets contrasting as we crawl, A few reach the destination with comfort, And most reach it with a lot of tiring effort, In the end heads are high for
Between the zeros and the ones, a paisley tablecloth is spread, and atop it rest white lace napkins, the yellow butter and the butter knife, the wine glasses, the teacups, the water jug filled with ice – a mundane scene
She falls in love with you the way you portrait yourself.. She falls in love with all the fanciful words you used to describe her She falls in love with you whenever you tell her that she has a virtuous
Four curved iron legs,a foam seat and a back rest keep it complete . I accept it isn’t anything unique i only want to ponder on its peak – the strength that wills this errorless control- inaction surely sloped into
The faces of oppression, your mama forget to mention, That the white cop shooting niggas on the daily to collect his pension. Only when a nigga is killed is it brought to your attention, That racism is alive and well
The sky is deep and murky green, The white sun sinking over the horizon, Extended by junk and litter. This is the oxymoronic haven. A carnival of despair Filled with torturous laughter Distorted, slow, hurdy-gurdy whistles, And tinkling, unsettling music-boxes.
They tell me that I’m “glowing” and all I can reply, Is “thank you” with a great big smile, For I’ve found something money can’t buy, Finally my life feels worthwhile. They tell me I’m “looking well” and all I
Sailing in thr ocean of thought, I was left with naught. Sun in water was sinking, My eyes sparkled without blinking. I was in the ocean’s core, Miles away from the shore. A wave flowed me away, With them a
Music and words are the places that I hide, the solace of their sanctuary with walls, behind which to hide. But now when I sing those melodious old songs, tears are all I can find where the words should belong.
For the dream slaves the incense has become a moon for the alchemic effect of tear’s stain in erotic war. Ask a mooner, will he bring her to bed for a song to measure the cantus between flight of strings
Morning came and dreams walked out, A savage life was knocking my door With harsh iron hands holding an unpalatable casket Loading grey flowers of troubles having colorful multitudes Immaterial my blinking desire, my aversion and perturb It ran in
Just unbound, the death rate. Red roses had no qualms. Numbers, unapologetic, they die or commit suicide. Death had no tombs. One by one they cross the stream, sinking half, floating half in a cynic system, heedless, emaciated, eyes looking
In my life troubled voyage liters broken and unfulfilled dreams I was tossed about and sinking; when all the straws were broken I raised my head to behold on life other sides, a light flickering It beckoned me, ‘oh voyager
The Singapore-schooled child Is bonsai-born to perfection; His hair doesn’t grow wild; His mind has no inflection. He is just the rare inquiline His islanded government ordered For in his rinsed head is recorded A rhyme: toe the line or