Wishfulness poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of wishfulness poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on wishfulness are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
The railway track was alone today, No whistling train, no passenger on their way, I sat there watching for long, no baggage, no gong, The light post flickered more than every day, I held his post card from the distant
Soaked trees from the rain and fallen leaves, that cover paths lined with glowing pumpkins Houses with dimly lit porch lights and Halloween decorations welcome youngsters of all ages Children running amok dressed as their favorite character and yelling ‘Trick
She is a cold hearted Walks with random dresses and those messy hairs Her stunning expressions melts the tough hearts She is silly girl with so much class Her character becomes story which cant kept in an any frame She
The bushes, I remember, have been there in the tales of my love! The breath, the tears, and the aura of virgin forest – The art, the sighs, the darkness, the motorcycle, the roads, the unending journeys, have been there!
Everybody has some talent Some people are very intelligent Others are gifted with a paint brush and pigment Still others use music as their pigment I use words and their sentiment And so, there are so many we should applaud
Echoing his vague actions and repeating the venomous dream Awaken by the shudder of nostalgia. She, with a hidden pain scrutinizing her wounds endowed by a wild one . Feeling like a stained damsel, she became a lifeless creature. And,
hey feeble feathery flakes you keep sneaking into my space, your furtive group-attack tackling you, the skill I lack, once you made your way in chasing-chickens seem any-day a win, you are here, there and everywhere to my vanilla tiles
loggerhead turtles drawn to the moon become distracted, lured by airport beacons to die in strange terrain here in day’s dry whiteness lizards endlessly pause, and bats caper through clustering dusks of vines and lemons drawn from solar cells water
We are born into an unknown world. Slowly we learn as we go. Taught by those who came before. Who in turn we’re taught By those who came before. Generation after generation passing knowledge forward. Knowledge differed region by region.
After breach in tolerance one peeled truth becomes incendiary. Afraid of the known: pitched against unknown. Dying young with stiff upper lip, the grief, was not curtained enough. The malignant spread, refused to retract a name from the epitaph. Greed
She worked hard, He worked harder, They both tried, To keep it together… But it was beyond, Their reach, They could not hold on, Forever…! They fought all night long, She ripped all of his letters, He burnt all her
In time warp, to find the fell of a dark moon my thoughts bring out a birthday gift. The first step in fog discovers the sharp edge of kindness. Who will believe this black and white, suicide of a sage?
Eons ago, the gods feared us. Eons ago, humankind was invincible. Eons ago, we were complete. We harnessed the power of Eros, romantic love. We had Eros because we were already joined with the one person who completed us. We
How happy are you in your new world? What did I do to not deserve a place there? How much love do you receive everyday? Ever wondered if I could have offered more? Crying your loss is easy, Crying without
Running, sown with tears of betrayal, a young woman fell helplessly across the tree which lay in the pathway she slowly pushed herself to sit up and to use her sleeve to dry her tears. why did I ever choose
Why would I not sing to you in tears of vermillion fire? Sing the fires of blue flame, sing the rage of form. For these words no location in the blood-red depths of an apple-green paradise. Yes, yes your azure
Hero never whispers, makes all clear Before man born were in ancient world lies? They say it wasn’t solid transmission Words been spoken aloud Slow pictures out of focus getting sharp Surrounded stiffness of plenty spikes You live in the
Silent heat rose from the molten embers of a dying day, The grey asphalt lay sweating in the setting sun of scorching May. A drop falls hither; Eyelids quiver, A soggy breeze from the wild wet west Made my moist
O viola, go over the grapes and find an ageless green. It is difficult to be born again, undoing death. You swoon at the continuity of crossroads – with blue flags in your bowl. A rosette, without a winner. A
Life desert-like Enlivened by oasis, Or Like barren land Enriched by green bushes, Or Like ocean with Sweet undercurrents, Life is never smooth Goes on and on Facing and rejoicing Varieties of moments. Sometimes life thunders At other it cools
Gone beyond extendable territories, Raging past the fierce wilderness, Words were never spoken, The time was never mentioned. People almost do things: He almost reached, She almost left, They almost gave in, We almost failed. Almost will not suffice, It
Roses are Red, Daisys are Yellow, Violets are Blue, Auta is Black, She is fair Her hair, curly, When she flips it backwards, I feel this magnetic pull towards her. Her face, so clear and spotless, With blue eyes, In
Age is the only expand, Where joy-sorrow go hand in hand, Joy of moving towards the new, Sorrow of leaving behind a few Awakening of morbid senses, Those laze passive in tenses. Dying off of that innocence, That once is
Watching as half my existence has passed And all that is left are memories, that on my brain have been cast The rest of my age will find strength in autumn and winter remembrance As I wander through the freshness
We’ll settle by the bar and watch the women dance, then split a likely pair when we think we stand a chance. I’ve one eye on the bridesmaid with the skirt that’s riding high, showing off the daisy, tattooed upon
40 here we come, please greet us with a smile We have so much to be grateful for, let’s drift back for a while A childhood full of laughter, the pictures are timeless gems Memories that make us quick to
The grain of wood was nuanced for naked aggression. The groping could not find the plasma. Some non-believers were deemed insane by rust-tainted smiles of shimmering stars. Defiant was the crushed grass after caressing the moon in lonely night. The
A beautiful and sweet girdle Collecting it is quite doddle Counting is like a hot fettle Touching it is a bit brittle. Let be the Geeta or the Bible, Let be grapes or pineapple, Importance of money able Is not
When I close my eyes at night there is darkness. When my eyes open in the morning there is light. I pray that the world will experience a brightness of fortitude where all men, all women, and all animals can