Vagabond poems bring the best collection of short and long vagabond poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great vagabond rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these vagabond poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on vagabond are here for you.
This morning you thrilled me with leaves swirling Tumbling, cascading they zephyr-danced Dregs of the summer’s bright motes falling Heart in a whirl and my soul entranced All of my spirit caught up and laughing Breathless I swooped and I
I remembered my childhood in the cherry orchard, the way I did not want to complain about my too long name or about the fact that other children avoided me. I believed that for those who never lie to others
The vagabond was once again on the window, Begging love and asking to open the gate, And the fairy inside the house reluctant, Said helpless she was being slave of the fate, First you peep in the four windows, Starting
Jealousy has grown like fruitless trees It has spread like width of seven seas It can’t be justified with very many pleas Life is condensed cocoon of humming bees Humans are no more, but hollowness remains Losses have crossed the
I see them each day on my way to global politics 201 years worn, moss filled with cracks along the armrests I can remember one day seeing, two lovers in those chairs surely their intent, to facilitate the couples conversation
One Thousand Dreams, Thrills, Fogs of December You wake up in a lonely station when people passing.. One Thousands way to escape like every one did you met… in another world everyone is vagabond.. Mama was gone, you don’t know
I knew a girl with eyes always set on the next mile ahead and a heart longing for oceans she had never seen there was sand in her half brushed hair she always had happiness flooding from her pores just
I am in fact Waiting for the rain When the water and sun Make love again When Mother Nature sings When the moon hides When deathly thunder rings When the thirsty earth chides When lovers embrace And I feel their
Painted peeptoes look up to me winking through their narrow slits, see me flit and traipse around towards my errands that I must run. Cut and peel and cook and clean scrub and wash squeaky clean, mirrors and glasses polished
What? The moon’s beautiful? Yes, ’tis so beautiful and how fakely indeed, oh, so foolish are the minstrel , to weave wreathes for thee. Thou misshapen tenebrous orb; What are thou so conceited about? Thy brilliance is not thine own,
Blood moon, O, sun-halogenated bulb! Sublunary loons swear and swoon Your red blushes flood The late twilit noon In hot menstrual flushes of blood! But blood moon! In your earth-orbited race I think you run out of skied space Much
While walking alone Speaking without words Yet hear all except human voice Amidst trees and woods and lawn Hearing the never exasperated rhythm Sung by the flowing waters The stories murmured by the passing breeze The shrill of squirrels We
Been a Christian, been Jew. A Mormon and a Muslim too. After walking each path, finding none quite right, my eyes opened wide to true simple light. To love and hear compassions sweet song, it was spiritualism whispering all along.
The moment tasted like a paradise, The moment you were in, Seventh sky I was on, The moment of the touch of your skin. Heavens are beautiful, you are more, Angels are there, I adore, You’re their queen, you’re worth,
People use your business as a weapon, that’s why I’m a private person. I keep my thoughts in my head, so nobody can’t say that I said. I keep people at a distance, because too many people is an audience.
Annie Dickson was a ham But Annie had a stutter Carefully she chose her words Determined not to flutter Every day seemed quite the chore Frustration just to talk Girls and boys would roll their eyes Heck, some would turn
They arrived through the morning post The father, son, and the holy ghost They raised their flag. I raised a toast To all the wretched sinking souls And so we built our little church A little store to peddle hope
Swallowed in a dream of bliss, and sunset berry kisses in the still of azure skies I gaze into your eyes. Your lips, like honey exude streams of sweetness as a dream lover’s dream I find you resistless. Soft whispers
If Hope is the thing with feathers, perhaps Life is that stony thing, that stony Enigma. If someday, somehow, somewhere, I catch some glimpses of what makes a heart, a stone, and what makes a stone, watery before someone dies…
Little was I aware of what demonetisation was all about I was in eve possessing few of brand new notes of 500 and 1000 denominations When the news tricked in that the currency of 500 and 1000 notes are no
When I was born, so was death. He awaits my last breath. I would be death’s thorn. Each morn I trilled, and eye balled him. Told him death be a sin, and his thoughts he must kill. Time scurried, passing
Don’t look deep into my eyes, who knows what you find inside? Is it the dreams that I lovingly hide, or are some demons residing inside. Am too afraid to let you know, Even too scared to make the show.
Alternately titled: arm ugh gut tin Aye dread getting undressing and getting washed even without spectacles that haint no mo’ six pack ab which nearly rock ribbed mid equatorial zone shape shifted into corpuscular blubbery ancillary physiognomy where aye wanna
Nineteen Thirty to Two Thousand and Four Expounds a brief history of a noble Grandeur Not just a mere statue of cement, but of a great man A shiny suited man, who welcomes everyone. Surrounded by flags and healthy pampered
We are all equal. Placed here for one purpose. Created by one almighty. No one is superior from their neighbor. All equal but very unique at the same time. Together we are one great nation. We are all equal. May
I did not want anything from The Almighty Sacrificed untouchable realization Which is symbol of myself And dedicated emotions, silence. I did not demand anything from the woman Allowed her into the corner of my mind Which is the center