Woeful Ghostly Haunt Tis The Shattered Country Of Poems
Woeful Ghostly Haunt Tis The Shattered Country Of poems bring the best collection of short and long woeful ghostly haunt tis the shattered country of poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great woeful ghostly haunt tis the shattered country of rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these woeful ghostly haunt tis the shattered country of poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on woeful ghostly haunt tis the shattered country of are here for you.
Back in those old days, a wife awaits her husband on a stormy night, hoping for his safe return. .. Waiting for her love, an enigmatic sailor. In vain gowns and a luscious healthy pallor! The porch, radiant in jewels
Have you ever seen the sun setting and the moon rising together the three oceans mixing with each other the peacock welcoming the rain where the farmer will be found tinkling the golden wheat grain where we will find the
The hands of time tick slowly by as dawn breaks in a new day. A nightmare reality of the receding night lies marked, like so many fading stars, in the shattered glass on the floor. Silken shards of sorry souls,
In winter of 2010, January 12 at 6:00 in the afternoon- an earthquake devastated the country in just six little seconds. Soon after, a smoke rose from the horizon covering the whole country, in every cloud of smoke, I could
I am seeing my reflection, In your pure innocent eyes, You grin ear to ear, Taking in my surprise! You garland me with your arms, I wrap you in mine, My clouded self forgotten, I relish our big hug time!
Dreams never stay the same, They change frequently. Your goal is not a game- As others would see. From an athlete, To social service. You don’t compete- But you never miss. Once those become an illusion, You’re finding new dreams.
One deep breath of what yet lies, Dream’s of shattered butterflies. For like myself their wings are torn, Silently broken they fly in mourn. Blade’s of silver shining in the light, Scarlet blood on my wrists, feels right. Flowing beads.
Unpleasant things of life, once completely frozen, are now thawing and melting away. Wisdom has taught us that such things, like ice caps, never came to stay. To all things, there is an ultimate purpose. This truth is certain; no
Prevaricated Forth Write Declaration! As most every girl and boy taught back in the day, or more recently going to Zerns, a golden age of story telling, when rapt listening ears willingly leant eager attention to a riveting speaker such
Poems containing references to : Woeful Ghostly Haunt Tis The Shattered Country Of
The vagaries of life had shattered me down, Made me a coercive slave, submitting to dealers’ erotic frown, But I felt those moments with an absconding pain, As you came to, my life of lame. Your night of birth was
The train has already departed, From the country that they call yesterday, Into the territories uncharted, Leaving behind the remains of the day. Leaving behind the sobbing hills and churches, And nurseries full of sighing, And forests of ashen pines
I wasn’t impressed by her looks or stature I never thought she deserves a re-look I came to know my friend was interested in her I teased my friend for falling for her I laughed at myself for my friend’s
I. If all lives mattered, then Black lives would matter. And blood on a street in Ferguson, MO would not have been splattered; And a body would not have lay there unattended for four and a half hours after. II.
If someone says good days will come I welcome But feel that mine is in-depth a shy welcome For that great concept all have to be in everything good Peruse individually elements of goodness we should Everyone must decide to
His dress impressed him like naïve Though he strongly reflected the native Only a half dhoti and a shawl he wore But his simple dress spoke more It was the dress of an Indian peasant Though he emerged as more
Don’t let your heart become a paper boat sailing towards childhood, Towards the harbor of its never returning fragrances, Don’t float towards its crescent moons if you could, or the enchanting crooning of its past tenses. Don’t become an interpreter
When We began, words built bridges carrying us to and fro across distant places… thoroughfares, connecting spaces, verbal embraces… Words became light and water flowing, filling, spilling, swathing… Words… like glowing embers spewing sparks, scorching flames, swirling blaze, enveloping, burning
Drop by drop they follow to shower, Sometimes heavy and sometimes slower. From the high to the low, Feeling the earth and to flow. Sounding in a delightful drizzle, Healing the land dry to mizzle. Little children way to home,
A tavern Simple-complex, happy-low, A water hole full of regulars Heartbroken, shy or smitten Wealthy or wily smugglers. A rustic smoking a cigar, Passing colloquial remarks, A skillful pianist playing, A journey an artist embarks. A wanderer at heart, I
A child who was more of the trees, Than of any man I knew, Whose laughter tinkled in the breeze, And mingled in the dew. Oft In the speckled summer shade, Pleasant dark and divine, In the beauteous forest glade,
About days, when heart is alone.. Familiar faces but the soul is unknown.. The voice is unheard, Albeit it is loud, since I thronged by an extensive crowd.. About days, when home is Abode Moments are time and path is
Welcome,welcome,welcome, Welcome to Paradise Welcome to Nainital. A heaven on earth, Sun-kissed mountains. Yachting,boating on serene lakes, The charming lakes and splendid landscapes. The most beautiful romantic place, In the Lake District of India. Nainital is the Majestic Queen of
Broken,shattered and lost with loneliness deep in my roots I don’t wish for any spring because I am tired of humans. the people who were my blood, my friends have changed with time like weather and I am unable to
Oh, the leaves of green that exist no longer As the days grow cold and a little stronger My heart and the seasons intertwined The child dies; the man grows less kind Experience is the lesson hard earned Best of
A cold, lifeless blade was pressed against chilly, tender flesh Slowly, she presses it down, feeling the pressure on her limb Then, there is a sudden relief as the crimson rivers and the inner trash Comes tumbling down, red raindrops
Inside my prose poem is happiness, happiness for all. Even the juicy parts don’t lack think material. I have it on good authority. My autistic Aunt says I should stop writing. Where are the beans? I was told in my
I shall never forget that there are the unfortunate ones who would give anything just to be able to have one moment of recall. But they cannot, because of sickness or disease. Our hearts cry out for these, and may
I have createdA rainbowJust for youFor in my dreamsI see youWhen I’m awakeI imagine youAll becauseOf your exquisiteQualitiesThat is so beautifulAnd lovelyThat helps me throughIn my lonelyExistence here inThis country…
The hardest thing I have ever done was say goodbye to you Reckless words spoken, a desperate act of an unknowing fool Time doesn’t heal all wounds, only those of flesh and bone A broken heart will easily shatter, no
Feeling wonderful, With all the things, Life has thrown my way… No more frowns, Faking all the smiles, Like those of a clown… Listening to the birds, As they sing their song, And fly far away… I’m living my life,
I have a lush green garden full of Charming snakes, Their frightful sight can give heart attacks. Though in appearance attractive and sleek, Their dominance can make your life very bleak. My garden attracts them to fulfil their greed, They