Temporay poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of temporay poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on temporay are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
The displaced years cling to your body like an extended death. I wanted to see what could not be seen by clutching. the lifeless doubts. Emotions play: potentials are threatened. Remaining alert becomes a punishment. I grieve for the dementia,
“I Love You ” this was what she said to him The riverside, green grass cover and moonlight dim Waiting for “Yes” there she was bending down on her knees It took her guts to ask, after all those friend’s
Low and behold those creatures cried and begged while the butcher cut their heads then he sells them part by part to her delicatessen Kidney pie, liver fry, sizzling heart and brain rated for their fat Hanging in freezer rooms
Happiness happens when you least expect it. It can come after a while of being rejected. When you are feeling down, life’s moving kinda slow, happiness can happen from a simple hello. When you admire someone and they say hi.
When the loud trumpets lie And the slithering mist usher our souls’ demise A chameleon claims the eagle flag as his right Dismissing us all like flies This Caesar is no savior His arrogance betrays his hateful designs We remember
What is it that binds, In the passing of time, By invisible chords, That time can’t wear off? As strong and deep rooted A tie that can never snap, Holds the threads, That bind us together. A bond stronger, By
Into the menu smiling cheeks reflect, candlelit white tablecloth, islands amid the carpeted scurry of busboys and waiters in the backdrop of our night Tinkling laughter and ice cubes accompany depths of conversation overheard, yet unheard from couples in quorum
Yesterday I saw a dream, That I was in the factory of chocolate and cream, I saw a number of donut shapes, And the wonderful music that I can’t tape, There were so many colourful lollipops, But the fountain of
A falling raindrop, Clear as a crystal, Hang on a leaf, Till it splashes down. There’s nothing, As magical as the rain, Falling on the hillside, And rolling down in a chain. There’s music in the rain, As they fall
« I shall remember while the light lasts And in the darkness I shall not forget » [“Non-Catholic” Cemetery, Rome: headstone 2515] Unable to Enlighten the twilight between consciousness And unconsciousness She leaves aside the despair Of those attending -Just
At the cross-roads I stand I ask myself to answer my questions, My ever lingering past and my evanescent future, I stand at the cross roads looking at the beautiful sunset in anticipation of a beautiful sunrise. At the cross-roads
When things go wrong as they sometimes will, When the road you’re galumphed seems all uphill. When the funds are low and the debts are high, And you want to smile, but you have to sigh. Remember a beggar and
An old woman slings loose the accordion from her shoulder, feels her ribs expand draws a mental connection with the sag of her breasts and, broke, starts off home unseasonably warm for February a pack of dogs have run of
the pillows sleep on me like cats every night this room contains a brand new constellation pinpricks of technology winking as if blocked by orbiting children regular visitors and on the wall a creamy veil where the curtains don’t reach
Every brunt she has to bear. Every music she has to face. Learn to value the word ‘she’ my dear. Because she is the whole humanity’s base. She encapsulated you when you were a homogenised matter. She bore the dreadful
The memories’ hands embrace me suffocating, I feel like dying and the sadness’ body revives- Phantasm haunting my territories… It’s raining and I’m seeping through the grass, Abandoning myself to a waiting of a sun That might not rise for
Observe not to hold anything your own Struggle and playing in the midst of heart Never feed them any Let them nourish themselves They take the time they need and perish or vanish Instead, fill it with a fruitful thought
This poem hates you. This poem thinks you’re dirt. What does it look like down there? What does the ground taste like? This poem is tough. This poem is hard. This poem is hate. How does that make you feel?
Were you ready for a virginity test to cross the umbrella of harpoons. A chilled moon will welcome you after slaying the hot sun in the valley of gods. A schism scoops ignominy. Seeing the lights which were not there.
Her smile takes my breath away, She’s perfect in every way, Her lips are soft and cold Seeing her everyday puts me in that romantic mood. Her love is kind and full of surprise Like waking up on Christmas morning
A study of soul continues; hold back the animal, discovering yourself in blind light. Awaken the hungry child of autumn and give him the dreams of strawberries to eat, time would drink his tears sans lips. A second death of
Even should Lawrence expiate the pity Describe in metaphor as he will the fig and snake None of this is as anything to this Two centuries later exceeding the equal of the take I mean, what goes through your mind
I’m stuck with mixed feelings, All the layers of emotion peeling, I ought to be happy and glad, Instead it’s bittersweet with more sad, I miss my best friend – my dad! It’s always the happy times, That are filled
The tears have fallen; The Blood has shed. I might be hearing voices. I think I’m in a nightmare. My mind is spinning in a thousand directions; What is happening? I’m feeling out of control; This seems out of my