Sober poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of sober poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on sober are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Dragging the floor, Like a mangled doll. Facing a decrepit wall, Rip it off like paper. The blackness of void, Like a pool of ice water. Out a silver hand outstretches, Rippling the wall. You’re pulled inside, soaked by the
This girl have been cooking food for her family, she used to have a promise for eternity, that she would be with only one person, her parents would have chosen that man in person, but one fine day her innocence
The ever youthful never sober, always cheerful and smiling, a man of solid virtues and discipline bid adieu to this world of umpteen wonder after scoring a memorable century to the disappointment of thousands of his admirers Nelamangala Venkataraman Sharma
It was a normal day As they usually always say With fights alight, And deaths made right With masses arguing And the hunger growing. Ahh what a sight! A perfectly normal sight! I could just not wait Any longer in
The moon grasped my heart tonight! Like the glow of a burning lamp It gleams in a mantle of delight Beneath the clouds of misty damp Like a wandering eye that glances To every nook and corner streets A silent
Like every morning, he has just returned from his office and is right in-front of one of his roommate and so called friend’s lappy’; Going through all previous messages sent by her on Facebook. No doubt, his life has been
Sumptuousness of the cafe, Sitting at the corner… Softly Decorated with glasses comforts of Air-Conditioner.. Silent faces unknown held down on phone-screen… Headphones and Ringtones like sounds of guillotine Inside the head-Rage and fire against the politics-bullshit of generation of
Dreadful nights are long over, Nature has turned a lot sober, After the devastating flood, That claimed a lot of blood.. With us helping each other, No one now has to bother, About catastrophes in future, As we will again
This kitsch makes you hollow, kleptomaniac. You become blind in green ready to make a dumb leap from tall cliff. Contempt for climactic throats. The man walks on water to meet death in icebox. Pink torch like royal command signals,
lamplight reflection sits in the trees gives eyes to the leaves they watch without blinking there is beauty everywhere an old couple reworking their wills to include their new granddaughter a lay preacher sober since last Sunday enthralled with the
He awakens To a wicked world Of His own design Where the Damned Live amongst The Divine Their perfect little lives An illusion Fueled by vanity As He searches The darkness for light And His sanity Rythm of the heart
Knock knock knock, I opened the door Some girl named Crystal was on my front porch. I asked what she wanted, she said “may I come in? I have a surprise for you,” then flaunted her little white bag. “You
The sea claims, here you are at my door. Leave behind the bustling streets. Walk up to me, pardon my storminess. Bury your feet in my sand and close your eyes. I shall salve you of endless perplexity and unrest.
One crisp scaffold. Was it possible that it became generous? For the street which turns the mutation into xenograft. I pretend to be which I am not for fear of dying daily or sleep no more in the lineage of
Many times it may be a pleasure to meet your dear ones But some times it may be irritating too Mental make up determines our attitudes We may be rude when disturbed We may be pleasant when happy We may
Count your blessings you’re still here it’s 2018 another wonderous year. 2017 has passed us by ain’t it truly funny how time can really fly. Was 2017 a scream or just routine? Did it make you hoot and holler, kept
A steady mind does not exhibit emotions A disturbed mind often leads to irritation A happy mind feels Life as a Gods given gift to enjoy A sorrow mind feels no charm in leading the life An angry mind sees
Having to watch the person You love the most Slowly start to lose interest in you It starts a little But you can’t point it out Things have become different Everything feels slightly off You can hear it You can
Exhausted and homeless Without financial order Without security and acceptance She became an easy target He zoned in He reeled her in Empty promises He gave to her She almost lost herself In words’ entrapment She readied herself For life
Played in the hills of another world`s land, Spent the nights reading in my room but always dreamed about lying in the sand. Then one evening between 15th and 17th of July, With his wings so heavy and attire so
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.
Anytime the nights are long and scary The spider in the corner with legs so hairy The nightmare left you cold and scared You know I’ll be there Anytime the dawn brings fear and worry The hours ticking by as
When the milky-way smiles on the sky, And the crazy night birds glide and fly, The white night flowers when sing and dance, The corner in roses is a cradle of romance, Stars on sky play hide and seek, The
Could be in the past May be in present too You and me disagreed We quarrelled, fought Argued in bitter words For we all wanted to Make our World better Perhaps never realized A simple point to ponder That’s universal
Last night moon was following me discreetly, skirting behind the trees. A white splendor drips, like a dropped coin on poor’s hand. Did you see the blood on roses? The petals were wounded in rain. Casual violence spreads in the
Climbing trees, And the warm summer breeze. Watching bugs on the ground creep, While everyone’s asleep. Spicy village chicken curry, Living each moment without a worry, And watching ants scurry. The fragrance of fresh blooms, The clouds closing in before
Well there are many, many portals and gateways from this world of the living to the WORLD UNSEEN where demons and ghosts walk among us not only in the night but in the daytime too… Could be they’ve attached themselves
You said it was a sin to trade for the hunger. I was looking into your eyes, something was amiss, tears had become stones. How long your breast was carrying this despair? You said it was a crime to hold
If hope were mystical and only available for this present and earthly life, I would think my future to be cloudy and dark, not sunny and bright If hope were in a constant state of deferral I think my heart
The trembling hands were ostrasized for living more than the mafia. Why the marigold will not use the magical potent to understand the conceit? Wounded by street an unease settles on devestated trees. How the broken moon will rise now?