Wasp poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of wasp poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on wasp are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
The wasp makes its inscrutable plans multitasking cleaning its wings with its hind feet what must it think of the dirt stains ghosts of rainwater covering the outer window like hammer marks all its parts, segmented, moving independent while the
Darkness.. my cigarette end glows like a blood shot eye the mud wasp chirps the house rat scuttle by the shrill “Ge-ecko” of Geckos… a dog perched on its hind limbs sends out unpleasant vibrations picked up by its mate
I now see sadness on the pristine sand, In faded footprints, you have failed to make, More so that sands were once huge rocks, so grand, Before their fate, that only sands could take: To be the dunes, where dwell
This must be for real? gasped the yellow budded calyx That must be true. Answered the wasp. Time for me to lapse into another – those petals. But which of you is for real? Questioned the bud again. Said the
Motionless within the ambit of moon, the rain squirms and flickers under the street light in the vacuous silence of a monolith. A cricket walks on a cloud and starts the lightning. The urn was blind, fills up with grief.
Meaninglessly traversing into the havoc of vanity With a fake logic justified, Leaving the players into the deathly chasm. A Blue bottle game denying the soul of life! Two and two they say ten, And it is their game playing
You were trampeling on a wasp, when sprouts were generating Escherichia. Dirt. Romping around. How many corpses were there? Why can’t you tell the exact figure? Under the carpet the shoes will help. The need to jump from the rostrum?
An acute feeling as if an arrow struck me – vector of time, unidirectional flow of existence became clear to me. I saw its beauty in brighter colors and stronger forms. I felt that I was born. And I knew
She dashes just in time for the final boarding call Because airport book shops should never be missed She adores browsing second-hand book stores They smell of memories… like a long-forgotten kiss Bookmarks are more than mere page pointers They
The storms rage on, beating brows and bending backs Trees in the winds; swaying else they may snap Collars pulled tight and heads bowed down Not daring to look up at the deluge all around Through gloomy days and long,
Cold spots and disembodied voices echo in the ancient castle as shadows come from out of nowhere, soldiers in armor, ladies in waiting well and but then they disappear almost as they appear oh don’t you know living in EDINBURGH
Well and this Mountain that overlooks the Sea has always been my sanctuary…I love the bright lights of the harbor and the sounds of the waves at night makes me think now that we are many, many miles apart well
People are hurting me. I just sit there and don’t feel a thing. They have all murdered me to not care about anything There are weights on my shoulders. Invisible and harmless, they are. It’s like I’ve grown older. I’m
Rise, oh weary, war-spawned sheep Leave your demons caged in sleep. Travel up above this place Of caste and creed, of greed and waste. Shear the spirit from the host Invoke the remnants of the scourge Awaken sentience in the
Poem Dedicated To My Father Late Moinuddin Hasan–An Ideal Teacher- BEFORE TEACHERS’ DAY Moinuddin was his name,eloquent, which means— One who is an aide to faith and for that weens He lost his father when only six months and mother,
Beyond the monstrous face Beyond the fenced feelings Beyond the dark night that came after our sun. Beyond the tongue, that turned our lives, Into an orchestra of fights and we bowed for the end. Behind the screaming silence Behind
Your friend, my friend… Friends again Who else could share… Our fears, tears, smiles, kisses, memories? Painful time when ours is not No heart, no mind, could replace Your face is all I see Your love, all I need… And
Here I stand, on the land where you wish me to dig my own grave with few seeds in my clenched fists hiding them from your glance Watching you write on my gravestone a name you gave me, ‘Frailty’, though
Time passes, memories fade.. that is how our destiny is made.. Now looking back one can see.. How far they have come .. From bunch of friends .. Now they are surrounded by none.. Those sleepless funny nights.. Are getting
The wail fills the genesis; you are not living in me any more. Outside a grey mist of absence prevails. For a while there was stillness of white death, then roaring of a hurricane, before it struck the ancient wall
The wheels find, the track on my body, why do I shiver & tremble? The night gives me the depth, a grim reminder of realism. The consortium of thorns, the splinters float in my eyes. The dignified seizure, takes hold
(1) At ‘Bab Al-nairab gate’,(1)on a pile of wet smoke, I meet a sackcloth, a muddy bear fur and two women; one holds by her amputated palm the tail of ‘Sayf Aldawla’s(2) robe, the other sings a rocky song. The
Neither the victim nor the convict I am the witness of my excruciating journey I saw myself rising I saw myself failing I tended myself alone sometimes even inflicted pain on my own self selfish as I am called I
You get on those farmland roads and go hammer down the essence of America freaking out the visitors and immigrants so much empty space with roads sticking into it like acupuncture on a cloud that need for speed thrilling the
Searing in sunlight and dense in humid breath that uncomfortable nether-ground we ancesterally dashed across to escape the swift and sharp toothed now is a show of umbrellas and baking skin joy of wading into the delicious cool feeling sand
Listening to nothing in my ribcage I see the void growing deep within Playing catch with blame and misery I bleed sense unto past memories. I am machine a part of me is a soldier enlisted to serve broken dreams.
Could be in the past May be in present too You and me disagreed We quarrelled, fought Argued in bitter words For we all wanted to Make our World better Perhaps never realized A simple point to ponder That’s universal