Tuesday poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of tuesday poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on tuesday are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
I want a Tuesday kind of love. The sort of thing that involves little dreaming and scheming; the sort of thing that comes paired with too-strong coffee and too-loud songbirds and the drone of the news at 6 a.m. or
Same rise, Regular routine Boring set, Ending with gym That’s what I imagined for today I never knew this typical day would turn a Lucky Tuesday! Still wondering why did you come up and said “Hi”? Just then you stole
Poetry doesn’t just happen. It’s not just a bunch of words grabbed hastily and arranged to rhyme, it’s not even a so called overflow of emotions. Poetry is much more than that. It’s the silence that echoes within your being,
You want the girl that wears pretty flowing dresses and floral Vans. Not the girl who wears mismatched brightly coloured trainers With odd socks and jumpers that would be more suited a boy on the Nickelodeon channel in 1996. You
Perfect hot white ceiling giving back planetary anger at persons and plants making a griddle of the city’s streetmap and challenging those afoot to not drown swallowed in their own sweat Opera singer enters air conditioned library cool and quiet
Once when the forest wept, We hid under a tree, as if protected. Twice we saw the force of the storms, Cycle so stunning, even as it poured. Three pinecones fell to the ground, When they splashed, what a sound.
I wish often, to be a free bird, And swoop along the far-flung skies, Flying high, cruising the worlds, Lavish with engaging exotic aria. Could I be perchance, that first rain, That creates emotions, so light, The earth enjoying the
Lessons and learnings exist in stories and tales ; in trees and flowers ; in oceans and whales ; But to no avail, Till we realise life does not move from milestone to milestone, But crawls through challenges and daily
You are a stunning angel in a big bad world of doom-mongers. For all those that want much needed affection, you are always near You walk through hopelessness with your infectious smile While making all those around you, feel cheerful
A gentle cough, a quiet word, a morning breeze, a waking bird, Into her box her letters fall, soft flip flop slippers down a hall, A radio plays yesterdays, and on the wall a clock face says That sometimes time
The bushes, I remember, have been there in the tales of my love! The breath, the tears, and the aura of virgin forest – The art, the sighs, the darkness, the motorcycle, the roads, the unending journeys, have been there!
scape without a name scepter of a colossus merge in a yellow boom between hunch and a knife, to keep shut the glassy lips from red stares a secret of an anonym scripting sunset the stacked neurotransmission of millions of
(Jesus speaks at Liberty University, Virginia, wearing a T-shirt and jeans.) Now, a lot of you have asked me some very good questions, And a lot of these questions seem to go along the lines of: “Who is God? Is
I was scrolling through the comments of a YouTube video yesterday, when, A random insult thrown at the YouTuber caught my attention – Aimed at him, was the proverbial swear word, not so subtly cloaked in the sheath called “woman”,
There goes a blazing trail of lightning across the deep indigo, starless, Australian night sky. I am momentarily startled by the dissonance of the rumbling thunder, playing drums in my ears. Driving past the long, steep road lined with bottlebrush
Never in those sizzling conflicts displaying the pink eyes you were able to reach me. Was it metagenesis, forgetting your selfhood? Fragments of a beast were floating on sea. Was umblicus of death broken in the crotch of a mother?
Fast winds and salty sea spray You’re the one on my mind Tanned skin and hair astray How could we have been so blind? Country songs at the background Falling in love with another Could you still stick around? In
Winter has the taste of melancholy; my window puts on a cloak of glass, wraps its face with a shawl of lead and drops cold tears, each time universe shrinks. (2) Migrant birds have a travelling homeland in sky and
Looking at remnants of the mirth that fled, This survivor riles at the trysting field Where once lovers bask in the joys they spread, Now forever lost, to forever yield; What with the cold winds blowing crisp and cold, No
If the bees can’t sting within their wax how can they attack outside? if a snake can’t swallow a dead rat what about a flying bat? the lion has shed tears when a rabbit intruded his territory. A tilapia has
I have a box and that’s for a fact- from which an act is being lead. With scripts of wild puns that overlap, it banters back while remaining intact! Equipped with taunting realizations that retort- with hiss as they push
Unmoored in twilight, my most visible hands were ready to slam on the moon of stains to bring out the water of life. A secondhand night was waiting for an explosion, which never came. How long will we go to
finding ways of running from the one force was getting harder everyday, with no night coming up the hill like it used to. rain still came only enough for plants to make out a week’s menu for those who had
The mask of retributions pounds archives of deceit illuminating your mind towards repercussions surmised, pickle with veils of silence distributed by heirs of distrust. You wonder how this all came about but realize it was your own reciprocal doings while
you on one shore I on another range is vast, surrounded by fens. furious boiling men loaded with guns do you hear my heartache ooh here you come bold and fierce warrior take me away and burn away my fevers,insecurities
T’was a dream inside a dream inside the mind of a lunatic Incongruous visions swirled about mirrored walls Mixing and blending all colored soft matter folded together Resulting in a nightmare only the insane would enjoy Taste and scent are
loner in the desert incapable of enjoying the stars knight of no man’s land cannot stand on his own desperate for a touch ‘pathetic’, they shout and wonder how he lost his mind love only made him weaker as life
When the angels created you they danced They sang and played with you constantly They laughed with you and had a smile on their faces all day They held you tenderly in their arms while you slept The day you
You said it was a sin to trade for the hunger. I was looking into your eyes, something was amiss, tears had become stones. How long your breast was carrying this despair? You said it was a crime to hold
Soil, Don’t be fertile more, Don’t be a mother; Child-traffickers, like mad dogs, are moving everywhere. Don’t conceive any green more, Don’t conceive any forest; The blue-eyed woodcutters, like butchers, are sharpening their axes. O Soil, Rather become a desolate