Wax poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of wax poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on wax are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
You were half-crazy saving little buds brutalized by storm in a yawning night. The ugly silver of a fringe group becomes intentionally a hate cult, developing an epicenter for stripping to devastate a religion. The ghosts are walking in the
Stand up for what is true And for what is just Remember not your suffering Rejoice with youth and wonder Accept what cannot be changed Cry out for what is whole Do not hesitate The time is now What you
She appeared like a Doll in wax His electrifying entry in her life has set her steady mind on fire and her wax like body melted to mingle in his arms All the while forgetting her own charisma She surrendered
She gathers her flying hair into a rocky braid, her eyes blow away into fire, soil and air. Her heart bangs drop, one by one, on the road. Her eyelashes melt into wax covering caves floors. Her stony dress waves
Too careless what’s going on all around, Although in a cage she is kept and bound, The couple is not free and cannot fly, When she sees other birds in open sky, She turns his nibs to the pretty spouse,
Positivity, happiness, love, these Words you threw at me, expecting Me to grab on to them and connect. Expecting my instincts to take over, Expecting my soul to grasp onto them Instantly knowing, feeling, understanding Their nature, knowing how to
Sometimes it pours like hot drips of melted wax from a candlestick; your migraine. I wanted armistice. Untangle the lies, I am not in your firing line. The tulips in the barrel of your gun cannot forgive the bullets. There
Zimbabwean by birth, Zimbabwean by color, Zimbabwean by beliefs, Zimbabwean by culture, Bred a Zimbabwean, I love Zimbabwe! I love peace! I love unity! Ishe Chibvunza If Zimbabwe could recall that eventful day in 1980 at Lancaster House, I bet
And so ’tis done – drench is gone Salted spray no longer flies the wild air That grim Tempest, that did wax and surge deep, now makes only whispered remembrance of its fury and troubles not the delicate house of
so, like always, morning comes and brings with it news none browses but the pages sit still on the table, irate indifferent we go about our lives, erase the outline we spied, out of the corner of our eye on
Here she gathers her flying hair into rocky curls. Her eyes blow away; fire, soil and air. Her heart bangs drop down, one by one, on the road. Her eyelashes melt into wax covering caves floors. Her stony dress waves
Ladies and gents, You don’t know Jack. Hence I wax poetic To remedy that. Jack has a knack For following the pack. This fool dives in the pool To swim with the rules. He doesn’t judge it lame To remain
“Madame Tussaud’s” Initially I was scared to enter that semi dark hall, The hall of statues- An eerie atmosphere, The smell of ancient dresses worn by statues, Oh my God–those wax sculptures, Had brainwashed my mind like a jaundiced fellow,
Like an alligator tending her eggs on tongue, death moves the life on strength of charisma, over reaches for requiem and then distributes the raw moments in subterfuge, we play the game to cheat each other without shame. A red
As I remember my remedy in the natural scent of humanity, I am reminded the chewed kisses stamped on my forehead applauding my addition to the Zimbabwean population. I remember my first time drowned and dissolved in the newness of
I’ll start with some foundation for this provides my base, It helps hide any blemish that I find upon my face, It smooths out any wrinkles, it softens up my skin, I need to match the shade I need before
When that drop came to see you my heaven was just that tear Just my conscience could smell you without the nose which was already taken My heart beat just stopped like the ruined clock in your room My legs
The wind blows along the lake’s surface As I begin my descent, in search of a spot…. ..Let’s start from the beginning we’ll get back to that spot A Queen with Goddess and angel like ways Her voice soothes the
The ocean stretched out into infinity Like an endless dancing bluebell wood Gathered together and wrapped In fluttering silken whispers, Sometimes glowing sun paths Criss-crossed azure memories And once more painted them Into existence, and again Life songs grew close
At times when the heart darts out before the words, And love spills over before dames all svelte and amused, By swooning to songs that blared ever so loud on the ears That even she could hear, Standing next to
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.
Sore with discontent, Oblivion beckons, Fade out or live long- Perhaps not an option. Choices are illusions, Life a big lie, Return to innocence- Most desired. Loath and anguish, No logic to talk about, Haze of negativity- Call it depression.
There was existence, without space. I was afraid of my unborn child. Inheriting the stammer of history I could not think of any brand abuse. On the contrary, fumes throw you off the road. Full moon rising on the cleft.
Vast are the tenants within each their own heart What hold lays within infants permanent wail The true occupant of earned tenure Such early tendrils of wisp cling so dear May these imperfect ears answer such pure cries Extend welcome
Something is lost…I am thoroughly aware The moments of joy disappeared; Something in your eyes tell me What a fool I’ve been…if only I hadn’t believed you… But things have gone too far from trust I never thought it was
Once I was obsessed with puerile dreams Radiant smiles used to flush my cheeks with beams Then despondence gripped me with glistening tears And pale solitude rolled in with mighty arrears. To ‘live the fullest and let live’ was my
5 Newest Pieces By Mario William Vitale Springstein Diapers & Wine later on in the village their were aristocrats and thinkers junkies, flunkies & hippies the poetry added to the mood a cosmic tapestry the pool of Springstein on the
Why do we argue and fight? And hurt someone we love? Why does it take years to make and maintain a relation? But just a second to break one? Why have we become so insensitive? And have stopped finding a
With daily dose of exercises Body looks fit and trim routine activities are in tune Everything appears perfectly fine Enjoying the morning walk with the friend for ages is like a kick tonic to this childhood duo Self confidence zooming
I’ve waited all week to again see your face To smell your perfume during lovers embrace Hold your hand gently stare into your eyes I whisper I love you the truth never lies We look at each other with longing