Tale poems bring the best collection of short and long tale poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great tale rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these tale poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on tale are here for you.
She judged her every step Her crumbled wrinkles and grey hair A story of a granddaughter and grandmother Her parents always sent her to her house The old shadowy house with a glittering stream grass to the knees and smell
Drop by drop they follow to shower, Sometimes heavy and sometimes slower. From the high to the low, Feeling the earth and to flow. Sounding in a delightful drizzle, Healing the land dry to mizzle. Little children way to home,
Between the breathless breeze of day, I stood and wondered what to say, A sunlit sea, a cloud dressed night, a fawn dressed in the morning light, So much to choose , so much to paint, before my days grow
She sat by the fireplace waiting, For her husband’s returning. It was Christmas Eve, He would get an early leave. She had laid the table, Switched on the light cable. The fire was warm, There was a quiet charm. The
They were counting the bullets and bodies. The severed limbs were twitching. Sometimes to go back to their owners, but the faceless torso selects a bush to hide the remains. The leaves are falling on the make shift home of
“There’s magic in the Coolroe-stream, or pucks weave herb into the browse to make me dream… In Killorglin town I bowed before a virgin-queen, who gave a crown to make me king with vision over everything. Our match remained unconsumate.
Fiery fervent flames raged in the room Passionately playing the melody of death In the air danced a broiling, smoky flume That blurred Julia’s e’ery path of escape The fire imprisoned her trembling soul Who begged the blaze to spare
The unwed moon rowing like a swan on blue lake after making love to silence. Dignified shadows walk on black beach gathering white heels. Only lunatics will sing in shapeless lines. Who cares for a sequence? The milk of love
A man’s choice for imperfect specialty Devoid a woman’s continued quest for security Likewise the two waters in diversity. He believes compromise leads to serenity To the long-haired nothing but a fallacy Then why do the waters co-exist in harmony?
They brought back saddle without the warrior. Wrinkled eyes of a broken mother frozen with tears, pick up the pieces of carpet woven with blood. Lotuses are disappearing from the serene lake; migrated to seeds. There are no visitors. Who
Don’t remember when it happened A year ago or a few, But a strange thing has happened And, for me, a very new. It all started with a prologue, As it always does, A prologue very interesting, For the both
Emerald irises up in Parallel rarely meet But now two pairs sprawl and bloom Neon hugs the sides While shades of green begin to colour the night Before long, you’re here Room one-one-seventeen Covered, stretched black divinity As calling, calm
Remember that fairy tale we read together? The prince and princess wearing crowns stellar studded with the rarest of gems! I got similar ones made by my jeweler. But he said he’d have to use artificial colored stones I Compromised!
If these walls could speak they would tell you, The tale of sweet girlhood Of wild hair and bright eyes Heartache and sacred ties Whispered secrets-too many to tell A purple wall and a cow bell Woes and delights in
don’t go there don’t speak to that man, come back return. today you are like sea waves, lashing on the beach, today your heart is full of sand……….. afternoon’s red sun, a word……….au revoir…… it comes to mind night’s silence,
Some days are harder than others. For so many topics I’ve already covered. Where to start? Where to begin? Story to lose? Story to win? Epic feelings to make one cry, A tragic tale of a sad goodbye? Soaring emotions
Happiness; It surfaces daily, in no definite forms. A kind act, a warm touch, A gurgling child, a day without qualms! A satisfying meal, a coffee past din, A melody that touches the core, A distant voice of a close
Life….This is not a fairy tale that we all dream of, fantasize or speculate it to be. Nobody promises us that, not even God. Life is an amalgamation, of those really fantastic, fanciful, sometimes phenomenal, remarkably awesome days and of
There are three kinds of love, Love that tests you, Love that loves you, Love that doesn’t love you back. The love that tests you, doesn’t conquer, it leads you, to the unfathomable galaxies, most of them are imaginary, where
After hours, and he is still awake, & looking for a way to escape… But the truth masqueraded by the smile so fake, Can’t compare to its real shape..! Blood red eyes say the tale, Of an insomniac mind in
As the darkness descends, We find, Ourselves failing. Reminiscence Always reminds Of days , Long gone, Of cataclysms, Barely survived. This tale of Our doom Swears, We never relinquished, Yet this conte Foretells the promises, Of woes Yet unseen. These
Hindsight of the past 3 years, Reveal the growth of a new face. The first instance of accidental “touch”- Perhaps Fate knocking on our doors. There onwards, The pages of my journal Were crusted with memoirs That stirred the soul.
Unhappy man I am! I can’t tell Why I dread the gods of heaven, The purgatorial demons of hell, The truths I need but haven’t; Happy pig in a philosopher wig! Apprentice me earnest and true – Which to embrace,
My arms ached rowing amidst the muddy water of the holy river.. My head reeled battling against the flighty stress carving my mind.. My eyes crammed pursuing peace, as I strived amid the holy river.. The night was dark my
I didn’t really notice her, to start with, A girl with too shaped hair and clothes beyond her years It wasn’t right, clearly not right Medieval in some respects An heir and a spare her task But a fairy-tale danced
Darkness and quietness all around me Except for your constant tick Doesn’t that painfully prick! So trick the play and take the pause I’ll applause and I swear not to be cross. You always march, night and day Where is
Union with infatuation The very night is colorful in sweet company If contact would be, very grave, heart rejoices its fancy Now those eyes are composed and look drowsy The morning is restless for union is at climax This is
With the golden eyes of a pharaoh – Her forebears brought down lions – Under the sweltering skies of the high veldt: Lithe and supple, fleet of foot, She covers this northern turf With ceaseless leaps and bounds. Her loyalty
The hands of time tick slowly by as dawn breaks in a new day. A nightmare reality of the receding night lies marked, like so many fading stars, in the shattered glass on the floor. Silken shards of sorry souls,
Truth is I’m just another woman forced to face The crime of a close friend Truth is where I come from everything is allowed except peace From hookers and hoes to junkies and crack babies From victims turned murderers To
World and Time, you monkeyed Me into a decrepit and cold-moneyed Ape – How, transmigrated old babe, I grow distantly hard as a nail And thereby hangs the tail-end of my tale: Fate – Hangs me upon a use-by date;
There once was a pretty little girl from a time before thee, She dreamed of a Knight in shining armor, oh how he would be! Tall, dark and handsome, With perfect teeth and not too large feet. He’ll have strong
Famelocked, sometimes he was talking to flowers, asking their names. In the house that never sleeps, infidelity brings the charm. Intense gravity excoriates the crotch. A supernova is born. Worlds apart, I am there, where you were not. A burnt-out
Ghosts hang like pictures from the walls, traces of words echo these halls. Sometimes at night, I can hear the staircase creak, so I cover my head and, to myself, speak. I tell myself nothing is there, nothing is there,
Astonished was I in the floral bower Kenning a soothing scent so familiar By then had I smelt each sightly flower None but had a savor so spellbinding Butterflies blissfully fluttered in the air But one to the aromatic whiff
Watching from pin hole lamps of baked clay. Every thorn was in my flesh. I was losing my voice in crowd of maniacs. Dragonflies climbing on worn leather. Through cracked sunroof – skull splinters into million heirlooms. Fever climbs the
Touch of your fingers gives feeling of first winter wind, And sprouts bliss and splendor in heart and inner mind. Your voice is like water stream passing through a valley, Brings feeling of relaxation in mind and soul, deeply. Twinkling
Speak! My love to tell of how, this arc of circled light Might break upon darkness to dawn with unrequited might. Despair! Rides upon the night, unseen, unfelt, rich with life Through unwanted correspondence pain cuts with a knife To
“HMS Trincomalee, a British Corvette, sixth rate warship of 28 guns, Five hundred gross tons was she. The King’s Pressman am I, handling a pressgang of five, My firm service of country and King. Her ships bell marking time; bosun