Solidarity poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of solidarity poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on solidarity are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Still talking to a ghost in oblique manner about sexuality. A centuary plant has not bloomed; wants to die. The loincloth covers the ocean floor where it shipwrecked. A fake will do. God was on dialysis. Chemistry of kiss did
We, You and I, Are individuals. As individuals, Regardless of how steadfastly We assert individuality, We’ll either blend in Or be drowned in a sea of Excessively passionate individuals; Each uniquely manufactured to personify Their respective soul. We, You and
Dream on all ye decedents of Kunta Boldly go wherever you dared to go Be happy ,sing aloud Hakunamatata Dream of the precious gems of Congo Dream on Africa ,Dream Mr .Kenyatta . Dream on all ye daughters of Africa
They say Dreams are not Real… And, that it’s an illusion we live in! Would it have been possible, to think of our Independence, Of India being free, had not… the HEROES of our HISTORY dreamed of freeing it, from
Help out no matter what, not because you might get it in return but , because you will have a good reputation.. Forgive all not because they deserve but , because you will have less strain.. Say sorry not because
Seasons come, Seasons go, Past is forgotten, present is forgiven. Memories get aged, get ignored, Dreams are born, get matured And with every season new, A magic is unveiled. For the lengthier days, I wait for the winter to pass
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.
The holes we create within our lives Whilst struggling with all the lies A patchwork of building blocks That sometimes make us have to stop And take into our own account Perhaps with help we can surmount Though fear we
I got a sweet-talking sister downtown, She knows how to swing. She plays guitar and a bit of jazz and blues, And if she met you, She’d just be lookin’ for a fling. I got a sweet-talking sister downtown, She
Blue diamond rains filigree of golden light so many shades of green. Sun beams on a single leaf. This small star pulsating from my wet apple tree. Bright new leaf fits hand perfectly—the future lies in your palm. After the
Tell me about the bluetoothed man, of his stark naked truth, in toe for a brief pause. The toll was mounting. The tallest fraud of chilling facts. The city of cold murders of hermaphrodite. The sex of meanest level to
Though a trillion coloured droplets just refract to cause an arc And though atmospheric pressure can explain Aurora’s spark And the moon and sun’s alignment can account for sudden dark Still you wonder….. While a flock of birds’ formation is
It was the middle of winter. A crisp white morning. Birds trilling in high pitched notes. Did their little feet get cold? I wondered, as I walked by listening to their sweet tunes. Deep in thought, a car horn peeped,
After all the heartbreaks, and the suicidal thoughts within her mind. SHE WAS FINALLY HAPPY!! As she remembered the 128 times she got raped. The times evil boys said ”I LOVE YOU” — eventhough their word were fake. SHE WAS
In a cool blanket of water floating, the expansive green leaf gliding, on a lake serene and shimmering, caressed by the breeze mesmerizing, with tranquility So alluring. A symbol of vastness, a sign of openness, pink and white they float
The only big struggle Is for money bristle Finishes like a bubble When we see Sin puddle. Is this so thing doddle? Actually it is a circle Vicious; none to fiddle As it makes one nuzzle In their cozy castle.
Well you’re one hopeless romantic Almost a border line lovesick fanatic But I wouldn’t change you not if I could I love your wet and sappy kisses And the way you hold me so tight I think I’m gonna pass
even vultures will not devour the proffered war time victims, ruined was the impression of untitled sacrifice, a wild anemone slips into the river of blood, I tend to forget the faces of embers – arson by apostles of peace,
When I heard the sound in the history of time a young me, I found. I probed my inner self I clutched her, stumbled and again, she was gone with the wind. Silent spectator, she was updating each character of
You’ll often see them running and chasing across the plains, a rabbit skipping and laughing at an eagle, in great pains. But why’s the eagle running, surely he can fly? Sadly he’s afraid of heights and frightened he may die.
Before some three or four-odd days Began the nature show some craze. The people, truly afraid, to say, Nowhere did find a place to stay. The initial portension was a fire, That left a pile of ashes and mire Of
A river flows through many people’s places and around dangerous spaces A yellow corn field and an amazing pink windmill as a summer embraces A black crow on a wooden fence and a dusty road as a fire in the
Everything starts with a piece of something. But she’s already in pieces so how come? Such a dark journey, she wasn’t telling. A tragic story. Ending— there was none. All was black. She’s not blind, But her hope was. There’s
Handprint of innerself was writ large in your eyes. I hear you in your becoming. Are you me and me are you in sameness? The words and silence? I hope you are listening to the waves, from inside, from outside.
The angel of death, against the Angel of Light, Praise God, Jesus, has won this fight! Death is now dead, and the grave is in hell, Stand up, children of God, and for this victory yell! For Jesus is lord,