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?
The uttered words that drew so deep, The lines of grief that can not be retrieved, Claims and chants of prepetrating misdeeds, Disputed faith on the dynasties, Dynasties that survived the storms, Teaching thy man to be on their feet,
He stands so tall, and shining bright We marvel at the sight Of one who teaches, sound and true. Who longs for love for me and you From God. Who else could give this gift? This feeling that will surely
This was an embryonic stimulus for a sprint. Knowledge itself has no legs. Can you run faster than thoughts? The sniper will take you in the open field. I had hoped to die in your arms. The podium was too
Hi Daniel, There once was a man living high on a mountain whose name was Harry Mt. St. Helen was threatening to blow its top, and everyone started to worry Harry had been there 60 years and thought he would
Feeling a little more strong with his clothes all back on, Harry felt a bit more enthused. He didn’t open his mouth to ask what it’s about, But his mind was no less confused. Then they tied his arms with
Audacity to live with your demons, putting up a fake love belief, who was the time, of that dark night? Distinctly alive to what I was not just putting up the shades of death into nothingness of peace in war.
What is truth? We live our lives being told what is true. Truths in science fall by the wayside when new “truths” are discovered. But, how true are they? Religions will tell you their truths. Problem is few agree. So
When the skies lie burdened with heavy clouds, When the buds yearn to bloom, but for a ray of sun, When the fires grow weary of burning evermore, I will think of you. It slices my conscience into slivers of
I write from the soul Yeah I am the corner stone They disowned A lion with an elephant’s heart, so misunderstood Whatever pain life brought I withstood So I am dressed up looking real photogenic It’s not schizophrenic I am authentic
They manipulated the words to cross the corridors of essence. Crib was empty, child was stolen. At blood stained altar there was no clue to mystical death. The contents now matter. Time displays tools of murder, snaps the sheet from
Please introduce me to a beautiful day That will be filled with love and gay. Let me listen to an eternal song That will stay lifelong. Tired I am. Exhausted I am Facing many trials Of evil deeds Of helpless
Like you once said Now we, no longer whole Nor known by name Familiar once forgotten now Our thoughts our words An insubstantial haze Of weightless dust The mass and means Of what we were The remnants of our being
That limit that line that determines defines Harder than ever to motivate the inside to find The light that once was and searching to still remain My secret my heart felt love of inner flame Warming me ever so softly
I don’t know where to go, When darkness grabs me more and more I don’t know where to hide, When darkness follows me behind I don’t know where to run, Where darkness is creeping on I elude from myself when
O tree, beautiful tree in the garden! Teach me the art of living! You have mastered so well ~ Feet planted strongly in the earth Branches raising arms to the sky Giving shade to the weary traveller Welcome shelter to
After the putsch, through night he set himself alight ensnared in flames of societal conflicts, for a vision of tomorrow, in the birth of a bloody dawn. The drone of history had failed on a loaded salt. A solitary murder
Life, Who can’t dance to your tunes? Today you make us smile, Tomorrow the pain is unbearable, The day after that, We are filthy rich, A month later, We cannot afford three meals a day… What game are you playing
You said you’re in love with that image of me On the wall, the painting hanging delicately. You said you love the slopes, curves of my face Those subtle little lines you just love to trace. You said my lips,
dear dad I am sorry sorry I’m not good enough for your fearfully high standards knowing I’m afraid of heights dear dad I am sorry you expect so much without knowing I can’t achieve it for you threatening me when
The moment of loneliness The feeling of devastation The losing of hopes, all hopes.. The instance I felt cast away, purposeless.. There..! I see you, heading towards me, Like a light that destroys darkness And you light up my soul
A way to the outer world from inside Is the window – an agent certified; Gloomy, depressed, woeful world Is made happy with a small riptide Which comes to the sight of bide Who live in and try to bestride
Love is a treasure chest. Nestles in the chest, Holds kindness, and care. Soft as flower, Often weeps, and wilts. Yet, strong as steel. Weathers winds of storm A wonder it becomes! The Taj, an emperor’s dream. His queen’s home!
When roses bleed thorns- it’s time to prune them. Waiting for seasons to change- is like waiting for silence to resolve- conflicts- a game of pride and rank. When roses bleed thorns- thistles outgrow the rosebuds; until color is lost
Some days, I sit and dream of being something beautiful. I dream of being the sweet flower in every person’s garden, Or the little butterfly that every child loves. I dream of being the magnificent peacock, flaunting every gorgeous feather,
Since my earliest youth, I’ve been looking for my face which was stolen by wars. I am the son of war. My memory was kneaded by her tough dances. Since forty years, I’ve been inhaling her bitter smoke, knowing nothing