Streetlights poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of streetlights poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on streetlights are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Stands a tall lamppost on the corner of my street A friend to lean upon as I skip the odd heartbeat Its streetlight flickers above me during the night Sending me a coded message for me to sight It lights
Her abuse of my naivety left a gaping wound; the cloaking (but never healing) of that wound made me hard and cold. She was sweet and sincere She dried my tears She was sympathetic And somewhat poetic She drew me
Her eyes narrate huge stories every time, I try to hear them, Measure the weight she drops on each word, Counting, the gulps after few. Her eye balls dance around, Like butterflies dancing in the ballroom, She hides violent storms
Differences do in fact come and go Only to find that time does slow Young, old, it does not matter Only for yourself do you live Unyielding for nothing, extremely trivial. Something is telling me, and I know Extra credit
The day I’ve looked to for years is now my dreaded bitter end. Melancholy incarnate, I feel nothing, much to my chagrin. My mind a wall, nostalgia the flood. Bursting through upon the hour. Bittersweet memories of you. The wall
Where leaves abound, much fruit is rarely found, When words are more, finding much sense is hard, As when nuggets are dug up from the ground, Dross makes mountains, while gold yields but a shard; We laud marksmen, when hitting
A tie of life full of affection With a common dream for eternal continuation. Building a haven filled with passion Along comes a gift with a task of attention. A pensive journey through the long duration The whole nine months
I am a man with an Unreservedly positive frame of mind. Knowing that frames are fatefully important As matter and metaphor. I wear shirts chiefly made of roomy pockets Trope for optimism And space for the melange of likelihoods, On
Her silhouette against the sun; while I stare at her perfect contour-lying on the beach tear eyed, Rays of sun-shine in the background; her shadow engulfs me with all its might; she smiles, Promises to return to me- I ado
White pill, Red pill – We’ve both taken ours; Yet the divide between, Is still unseen – And cursed beneath our hearts. The measure of men, acceptable when – You beat me at my part; But I bleed for you,
When the sky seems so near, the clouds seems to sing the song of your heart, The stars dancing in cycles, cycling all round you, When the wind seems to be playing your favorite guitar tune and its Waves smoothly
My love, I always dream of your return, When bluish hues adorn the skies above, And kindled hearth, with glowing embers burn All through those blissful nights, so filled with love; Where countless blooms would scent the wafting breeze Across
Sensuous touch of sea Waves whispering to me Enfold me in its close embrace Stirring my soul With eternal joy. Every grain of sand Tells a story As the voice of sea Speaks to my soul Of passions in life.
This is a poem of male roads. It starts with an ordinary road made up of daily traffic plus the occasional traveler impulsively joining the regulars. Unlike them he cannot calculate whether or not it is worth such risk. The
I see a future of war And evil dissent Of poverty and famine And dark discontent A world descended Into desolate gloom All joy and laughter Chased out of the room I see helpless children Lining wasted streets Tattered, just
I’m sorry, terrified, I truly fear snakes. To kill one, I don’t have what it takes, Its bite I’ve never had through my veins, But my fragile thoughts with horror it stains. Its hiss, more louder in my ear than
Just never comes the picture of your parents, When you enter the flurry of those silly thoughts. On your highly sensitive thin frame of mind, The MARKS have indeed created deep dots. Within your crystal-clear, free-flowing carefree life, Suddenly there
You become a chair. A dream sits in you for a graphic detail of pelvis. A trophy? Was it undecorous to present a cadaver walking on the earth? A serial killer wants a plaque on his grave after the verdict.
A purple umbrella What once blocked the rain Now catches the opportunity A purple umbrella What protected me from discomfort Now prevents puddles A purple umbrella The comfort of not being wet Has been exchanged for the freedom to breath
what are restrictions?. A big question mark..? Specially to a girl, which force her to abnegate herself. She abolishes, But could not polish. In hearts dreams are wide, The fact is they are dead. Dreams are viewed, In a deep
Unknown to each other in the Real world Man and woman fall in love in Virtual world Though They are not in touch physically they feel they are inseparable mentally Without knowing each other how the other look they get
Oooh baby ride that horsey harder and harder, faster and faster…keep it Cumming, no don’t stop now just keep it Cumming…well ain’t this what you came here for now Hugh now baby don’t lie I know you got that fire
A state of matter Observable in everyday life One of four, each distinct Solid state one Stoic and strong denying the pain Resolute against sorrow Tears form liquid Matter state two shed as the pain crashes like waves over the
In this world of possession, Where, criticism creates frustration. Sufferings and pain have easy flow, Negativity and jealousy are in full glow. Where emptiness is all around, Pessimism can easily be found. Intolerance growing day by day, Depression is like
What is it that speaks, before lips can say, Caress and feel, before the hands can touch, Stabs without daggers, without swords can slay, And betrays a love, that has grown so much? It bares the soul, and manifests sorrow,
I must go to the hills again, To those distant rolling, green slopes, To those lonely, shrouded peaks, To the comforting embrace of the morning mist. I must go to the hills again, To the sparkle of effervescent streams, To
Put off the lantern. I am waiting for the moon’s primal face. The lesser flamingoes were going to shed the pink color. Nude as a python, the kiss of pomegranates, kills by asphyxiation. I suffer in the hands of protests.
I’m but an Autumn Leaf , Twirling, swirling with winds I play And oft stirred by a squirrel’s feet , The crowning glory now lost and sway All my greens are now russets, yellows, Rambling, roving in golden meadows I sing soft songs