Teens poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of teens poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on teens are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Torrents swept the gutters Mercutio ran in from the parking lot hoping there would be no stabbings under Romeo’s arm today frogs felt the building mud and croaked atypical for Seattle at any time haunted house thunder shook the aged
Day comes and night follows Night goes and day comes Hours turn into days, days into months Every day that goes by Increases our age by days, months and years. From babies, we grow into young kids Then teens, followed
The hustle and bustle at the airport Some rushing, frantically searching for passport Mothers’ tearful goodbyes, Trying their best not to cry Sudden announcements from overhead speakers A crowd starts moving like follow the leader Pilot with crew in tow
Whenever, I feel tired and exhausted, From life’s monotonous routine, I go to my courtyard Theatre, On the enormous screen, Watching the free natural movie scenes, Projected by The Almighty Producer. The scenes change there with the passage, Of the
It was both a complicated and a simpler place and time A very noisy and sometimes uncivil place, but very little crime A place though legally dry, yet filled with moonshine and wine Where peace and freedom were purchased by
Like a moth inside the cocoon, Waiting to kiss the bright sun, Growing its wings in silence, Slowly losing its innocence. The girl next to me seems pretty, My talks to her sweet and witty, I learned a new word
There are brightened screens on lazy afternoons, Queue up for a weekend getaway from our dull bedrooms, What’s your age, sex and location? Are you here for rendezvous or recreation? Thirty Sally whose a housewife, is looking for illusions, to
A scintillating though oftentimes sad story, An Eternal Romantic poignantly narrates Indira’s journey from a teenager in love to a middle aged woman. Despite the vicissitudes of love, she continues to be in love with the idea of love. Indira
As the tram runs on the rails, Weather bitten houses emerge telling tales, Revolutionaries’ urge for freedom, Idealism in poetry and fiction, Reminiscent of immortal singers, Dancers in their grace, Tears trickle down in claustrophobia; yearning for a home which
She steps into the world UNwanted As a child She can’t differentiate herself from Boys On her Teens shyness creep in and she distances from adolescent boys On crossing the Teens maturity dawns in and dreams of an appropriate life
Someday Someday I’ll wake up before the alarm Kiss your forehead while u sleep in my arms Flip our pancakes Focusing for my ambulance You will change bad to good. Give teens another chance. Showing the light thats inside Leading
You walk on burning embers like a black stone to meet the end before beginning on empty landscape. What was the need to cross a saviour? Death had the wedding anniversary in a garden – full of blessings for the
Your absence was left beside me for the white salt, unsolicited, unbroken wants. Asking to return the dried roses pressed between the pages of talking book. Counting only the dying fireworks the hissing sparks, left in the unwrapped bones and
you wouldn’t know them except for their orders gliding like dolls hovering, footless, wearing bright dresses that brush the dusty floor the kind a proud mother would pick out then stand behind their chairs distracted trying to tame their cowlicks.
Bygone days had swifter wings That flew over the assorted lands And brought the harmonious peace To tune the music and the gong. Present borrowed mind is leaning Forward and backward Backward and forward Out and in In and out
Back in bygone days- one might have been amazed by all the tricks and trappings of the fool now that we are here- royalty is rarely near and what has cycled in is to be cool not-with-standing out- crystal clear-
To drill a hope in the drowned soul was very difficult, winds had blown away the talisman. Stress was palpable, you could tear the weather with empty hands. Mists had walked into the houses to pick up the burning cheeks.
A new planet was taking birth. Stem cells were coming out of obedience to carnality. For resuscitation, from kiss of death faith was at its best, in its witchcraft. Complete blood count failed, to diagnose the strange madness. It was
Rumination… No more… proclamation for a key salvation… with gravitational truths and hypodermic memories, measured against a polystyrene heaven… No more… inner conflicts under a solar eclipse, orbiting inside my eyes… Outside-inside Me, rippling rhythms write a new stanza of
If only I had a döppelgänger, I’d peacefully live my life of languor, Entirely at my own sedated pace, For me he’d run with rats of human race. Then, entirely at my own leisure, I could entertain my simple pleasures
I am ﬂesh and blood and feelings Amongst other things.. But I am ﬁrst and most importantly ﬂesh.. skin, bones, muscles, blemishes, pimples, scars freckles, moles, and dry skin and blood – running through my veins, gushing out of scraped
Now you call this living ? But what is living without loving ? And what is love but a verb ? Nothing more than a misconstrued word, Taken out of context by the world. We all strive for happiness . And society tells us
Under the whisper of lunar night, draws this captive heart to your light. Of you, one day to have and to hold, May my love be blessed, as bold As I walk amid meadows frosted glaze, grasses faint breath moistens
Music lost, recovered, lost Love lost, recovered, lost Poetry lost, lost, lost even if found Lost in words, words in loss, lost voice Lost embittered passion, seething with lost memories Alzheimer’s child, poetry’s kind upbringing Parentage questioned, orphan of regrets
Whereby: The scent of your breath love dances like a butterfly. Drenched in your raining desire lush spring awaits. Yearnings whispered vigorously. The sun kissed golden season’s ancient story filled with certainty and uncertainty. Every word I utter reflects you.
Crisp and tight, a parallel voice of black stars talks to sky, protesting the presence of ultimate outsider, when everybody was a partner of collective guilt in nightscape. What was the center of fight in elite members? The unhindered ego
The forest in me dim and bright The sun sparkles gold in my mind, When brooks of feelings swell Like leaves greenish I dwell, Immersed in colors of flowers Roam in the wind of thoughts Till my songs are rippling
Hi Daniel, There once was a man living high on a mountain whose name was Harry Mt. St. Helen was threatening to blow its top, and everyone started to worry Harry had been there 60 years and thought he would
We were kids and we were four Formed the best group of friends before Got to play almost all street games Not minding if sun already sets. Oftentimes, visit each other’s house Happily watched cartoon-series about blue cat and brown
Well and it’s once in a lifetime reinvention magic kinda like a secret superstition miracle of a the souls great salvation love found me just in time, the kind I thought I’d never find the kind that only happens once