Vishu poems bring the best collection of short and long vishu poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great vishu rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these vishu poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on vishu are here for you.
In three forms Two thirds; Still, Not to drink a drop, or two pots for bath. One-third in Coco cola bottle, One-third is in the Cleavage water, Then, we are throwing stones at the well, Waiting for the crow bath;
Lips tremble like sentinels when legs burn like candles whole night, in the pocket a grenade explodes; a girl gets raped in broad day light to receive a compensation under a leaky roof of frozen hunger: the emptiness in bed
You’re the reason why I wrote so many poems that night. The reason why I just couldn’t stop The reason why I felt empty afterwards Because every inch of you in me Dripped on that piece of blue paper; Dark
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
Your cheeks, in red ochre rouged In dimples, the scarab dew slurps Eyes and teeth, a white flash sleight Stretch marks, varicose crossed, like The Anaconda’s swallowing strains. Your life restless, the nose suffocates Dawn disrupts as the feathers ruffled.
It slides stealthily in you, the fear shifting the blame, stoking to run. He said the wolves are coming. I heard a wailing sound across the black wall, I hate you, I hate you. He was crying and shouting. Why
I am called Balaji in Tirumala; I am called Rama in Bhadrachala; In Sholapur I am Panduranga; In all His temples, I am called Naarasimha; In Mathura I am Govinda; These but names that called I am; In wayside temple
The brightest light shines deep but pure black darkness is infinite I surrender to its awe of depth without how would we know light’s speech Darkness is somewhere kept behind a door until intelligence opens in expression to be unique
One vein in the temple swells and pulses in rhythm As thou know growing pain hurts more than normal pain Yearning for success,end seems so close though Iffy am I getting closer or getting far from now Waiting at the
(1). At that morning, I wrote on the blackboard with white chalk: when negative collides with positive, it becomes cloudy; When two negatives meet, it clears up; When two positives meet, it lightens until they fight on top of a
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,
It is that time again for all we have lost to be regained and our weaknesses to be strengthened and bent choices to be straightened. Come join me, let us rejoice make your choice because life is what we make
Imagine the dark opening forth light imagine the light breaking forth sun with beaming of rays upon the morn could it be as a darkening storm Imagine and insect on a fallen leaf Imagine the drunken sot asleep on the
whispers… through the dark deranged portals you evoke fear filled with angelic fervor on it’s textual base yet we dig much deep then ever before cries in the dark will light the spark of what we need to know still
When I first got to meet him Soon after you left him I did not know him But something caught my attention. This something grew stronger Every day was revealing A depth that was building The real-ness was superceding. I
calm and quiet the sun breaks the branches creating shields of light and shadow all the creatures in the woods come to the feast the bears brought wine wolves, brought a pie the squirrels, brought a side dish from an
Venus-like from the ocean she rose Forcing a gasp from all those Who the seashore did frequent And their heart beat soaring sent. Liquid pools of blue were her eyes, A glance brought forth volcanic sighs, From the old and
Fortunately, it’s still reminiscent, that night, of shimmering moonlight, stars so bright, The strums of a guitar creating music divine, While we hummed as one and had some wine It brings alive pleasant memories of yore Fresh and redolent, enticing
This was a raw thing. A paranoid template for AK-47 rifles. The homemade bombs were planted on the roadside. A very explosive blend of a fedayeen. You cannot take it anymore this jihad. In everyday life inside comes out in
The man of her life treats her like gold, So she cries Because she knows Her secrets would break him inside And would crush his soul, So to protect him she lies As her secrets are something that she holds
Bloodshed, bloodshed everywhere Mere violence in the air Clouds of obscurity strewn about The sky of fateful memories. A terrible terror crammed In the inner core of the heart There’s no room for mercy now Retort hatred with hatred And
The cold. As the days draw in, And nights get longer, When life seems Impossible; To an extent, Has it ever Occurred to you That the cold Making its way Into your bones, Faster And more painful Than a sharp
The baker said, I want brown. Sin-steeped chocolate sauce, Caramel crusty and burnt, Cashew roasted to an infinite dark. The painter said, I want brown. Raw umber, tempered With a downy fawn and spiked With shots of bronze. The chef
That was the dreadful night when my world went upside down, Tough decisions were made but still I count, The smiles the sorry the vows that were so profound, It just hit me hard now when ever they come around.
This was the pain through the window in humility. Cannot catch a break in rambling rose, carrying the dead crown of a tryant. The blindness makes a presence. People are bidding farewell to the bloody son. I want to come
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
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
Roses are red and violets are blue, I’ve run out of violets, for the violets were you. Since the roses turned black the flowers have died, You left me on my doorstep, you saw that I cried. But lilies turn
The cold wind blew, dry leaves fell rain poured in torrents, washed off the trace of the past. Lightening struck ablaze, darkness died.. A storm still broke out, the chains of bondage cracked…. Thunder struck aloud, leaving the past dead..
Love and beauty play hide and seek Up and down mountain and peak When every thing becomes so bleak Through all the days and through week Sadness of beloved take very many faces Different designs with different basis At times