Win-lose poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of win-lose poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on win-lose are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
This war between your flesh and spirit, When it begins you can really feel it. For your flesh wants to do the things that are wrong, But your spirit wants you to sing a victory song! Then you get caught
So long all my comrades here all comes to an end Fitting to seek absolution for lapses I didn’t intend Trudge deemed eternal was fleeting in contrast It slipped past so rapidly not much long did it last Rues a
Before the spill there was soaring. And then anti-g. I readied myself for the ultimate fall. This was the poetry of submission sharing the pain of disillusionment. Who was pretending of liberation in a see-through heart? This was the time
An ode to Bhimsen Joshi You sing to the earth, it’s minerals, it’s metals, it’s pure stones. You sing to the earth, it’s sand, the yellow sand, the red sand, it’s rivers of sorrow, the waves, the waves that no
Sinuous roots stretch scrawny limbs, Seeking security in a forbidding terrain. Tentative fingers probing for purchase, Momentarily anchor, creep and grasp again. Mindless ambition, an instinctive will, Drives a path to solar sustenance. Revitalising rays multiply cells, Promoting uninvited regeneration.
flowers sighted jade my guided friend of age gone eludness pree of sallon confided mischief and the mire tango’d ego of the jauntily fallow with heaven’s burning ire into quoless epiphanic fire pluperfect in headdress gethered teak for mine twill heavenly
He falls and snuggles like a lover to the floor; dreams spilling from the bottle in the weathered-hand. Beyond the door, dead-brochs lie buried on the moor. Forebears are but sepulchral-weals upon the land. Dreams spilling from the bottle in
Driving down the highway, Going from here to there. Lights in all the windows I want to live somewhere. Someone’s home, the lights Are bright and all aglow. No rest for us tonight. We’ve many miles to go. Dad’s asleep
Memories that remind me of you, Get me all teary and blue, Putting at rest all that was gone, I have moved on, Moved on. The feigned vows and sham feelings, Loads of lies and deceitful dealings, Putting at rest
Each time I fall Every moment that I find myself broken Wallowing in sordid pain of yore Tempted to flee, desperate for refuge And fear I’ve reached the end of the tunnel You come to me then, like an angel
Firing of neurons accelerates, under the weight of ruthless originalism. A crowd collects the strength of collider and starts throwing back sparks in dark. Each face looks like a spider alighted from alienness: distills terror. The smile was a miracle.
Desperation clouding my vision Knowing that I hate my decision Accepting my struggles, emerge from compassion Deriving fear, overshadow actions Nervous, waiting patiently Conversation and reasons to love occasionally The storm reassures my edgy, confused mind All I have been
One difficulty still haunting him That time could not absolve Was the invisible sense that would come over him Deep in the night when suddenly, forced awake From exhaustion, he’d remember the war A village, a road, or maybe the
Casuarina! I miss you a lot. Why don’t you reclaim this drab century by your drooping branches, off from the poetry of water? The words are dried up. No rustling sounds, the winged creatures broke the mirrors, a black moon.
Burning bones blood settles upon the ashes Don’t you cry girl it’s life that passes Bullets shot in defense of masses One day child they’ll take their chances There’s a new voice that whispers power for fascists England is a
Messengers of God came To reform men All toiled hard to spread goodness and upbraid vices Generally they suffered and were agonized Noble minds believed and weak minds not So happened with the wit of every learned or enlightened person
“Foolish Heart” The reflection of ourselves is what we look For in others that is where A mere Connection is born whether if It is tainted wickedness or pure kindness Just the thought alone that we can’t remain frozen over
Nobody knows what tomorrow will bring Could be sunshine, could be rain Could be pleasure, could be pain But you got to have faith over fear Even in your darkest hours and Drowning in your own tears, keep the Faith,
That pound of muscle beating so hard Resolved to break every rib apart Or die in its venture with no life after Resounded the cage with a monstrous laughter Beating as hard as it could the muscle Sent into frenzy
As The River flows – my life completes itself.. An enlightened tryst with the almighty, Created by destiny, I was born To flow like a never ending river A tough undefined journey, quintessentially alone The Himalayas promised me the purity
It should not have happened this way, or that way, rendering breathing difficult in the intense smoke of misunderstanding. The granite wall between the doors! You grope through a thicket of words crossing the centuries of hate. Sun, no sun
Waned and weary with only toil and trouble my limbs could only travel this journey tired. . In my head to in my mind -which coincidentally were not the same thing- thoughts seemed to expire from the zealous fear found
Glistening and glimmering, the stars do shine Scattering forth their beams divine Their light, not bright, yet a mystical sight Blessing the earth on this cool breezy night A prelude to a bright new day Slowly and silently comes a
In the eyes of a child, I saw that it was heartbreaking That adults can compete For simple assumptions While it is simple to tell Beautiful and funny nonsense. I saw that he dreamed of recklessness And that he was
Deep within the life of these brittle bones of man, a song stays hidden, so slow yet so powerful; it plucks the strings of our veins reminding us that the shallow roads are meant to be left astray. The words
The heart a magnificent work of art, amazing in its design, if you follow it you will shine, cause it’s for much more than pumping blood it carries very real feeling of sympathy and love. It also has compassion in
All you heartless bastards, what have you done? housing estates spat out for wasted generations; a life sentence of grey brick cells festering in long cemetery grass endless dead end roads lined by garbage dump back yards, playgrounds for fat
She looks at me with soulful eyes;her brows raised in a question She looks almost like she is smiling,all I have to do is make the suggestion Don”t even have to say a word,Just pick up the leash and put