ww1 poems bring the best collection of short and long ww1 poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great ww1 rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these ww1 poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on ww1 are here for you.
Mrs Murphy stares blankly out through the backyard door The pigeon coop stands open since her children went to war Pals and chums filled the streets from Old Swan to the Albert docks The sons of the Liverbird leaving in
Please, don’t look at me. My heart starts to beat a little faster from anxiety. Wonders speed through my mind Do I look gross? Do I look fine? Please, don’t shout my name. I go insane. I lose my words.
Hospitals are Bombed mass graves With cold bunkers And shattered artillery. Red army fights the white army Blue army fights the yellow army Drones land on the cranium Submarines torpedo through the aorta. Death is a wheelbarrow You hitch a
The sacred fire smoulders fast turning its witness false. the uncared hymns of the priest melt unnoticed in the fragrant smoke; the holy books keep silent and negotiations for metals and notes go on; they never observe the heart that
Heavenly peace is not here we say, But that’s not true, Strong people always dominate a prey, But that’s not true. Like fingers are different though reside together, We all are different but made of same leather, Laughing, loving and
Identity is a sculpture Sculpted by force Internally Externally By choice We are born blocks Our guardians make the first mark They share the chisel with others With society And the work in progress is put on display How it
There is a small town in Texas state where time ambles by at a slower kind of pace. Known as the hill country by all who reside and bounded by a river, through Hays County side. Wimberley village is of
Gratitude –the noblest of emotions springs up from the core of heart sometimes expressed instantly Through palpable signs A grateful smile A warm hand shake Or a ‘Thank you ‘ note that says it all BUT Often too shy or
Alex’s last trip was to California. He wanted to see the Redwood Forest one last time. He loved that he couldn’t see their tops, and when he tried to wrap his arms around their trunks, his arms stretched out wide
Devour my soul like a flame, And let the burns show, No one will give you blame, When radiant it will glow! Love will surround the blaze, Tender will be the pain, No winds can then deface, What the soul
There is no thought in a fired head; Symphonious splashes of singing color hide in the back behind filling-wander. In luxury his lines moves lead; The thoughtless thick then ambitious brother isolate to suffer in self-shot slander. Then, to suffer
Wake up oh sleeping giant wake up and steer your destiny I know slumber is comforting don’t be beholden by land of nod though eons have passed all memories are distant smudges on the windshield of time all those who
As a young man, I was always obsessed By melancholy. I saw deep sadness, The quality That so tormented my heroes, Such as Arthur Rimbaud, And Montgomery Clift, As glamorous and romantic, But it’s not… It’s not remotely romantic, When
Nineteen Thirty to Two Thousand and Four Expounds a brief history of a noble Grandeur Not just a mere statue of cement, but of a great man A shiny suited man, who welcomes everyone. Surrounded by flags and healthy pampered
Tables laden with stones and gems, Adornment for a lady and her hems. Cat’s eyes in necklaces, sapphires and rubies, Shimmering in oriental colors- Such beauties! Strange and mystical dark objects, Matched by inscrutable, smiling Nepalis. Eager to please and
The heart beats faster lungs are out of breath and I climb atop the summit not stopping once.. People have become memories and memories don’t haunt anymore my body breaks into sweat and it is very cold here.. The wind
Every homecoming is a nomad’s offerings for forgiveness, A silent prayer, An apology for neglecting the roots, that have borne him. Two lovely yet lonely souls, leaning on each other Still, on their own worlds, Slowly move around and do
There is magic in rice cereals. They dance as baby- fish in boiling pan, and soon become snowy cool Delphinium. Boiled grains easily vanish in the mouth, a mug-full keeps you cool in summer. Roasted rice is fluffy and light,
That satanic streak of tireless undressing of a hapless monarch. Wings were gone. Cannot fly across the tree of hypocricy. A footmat for the suicidal jump from the elegant hierarchy to grainy lies. Why are you turning ungreen? You will
What implorations do they trace? These crooked legs in convulsion These crawly things in deathly grace What feeling evoke, what compulsion? The crushed mass on concrete floor In pasty death mocks my wisdom Should I act, or do I ignore
Take these hot pavements To my horizon of unborn secrets Beating down like a drum Never mind that scorching sun Together, we’ll run. The proliferation we seek Like a soft photosynthesis Blooming in this parched desert What do you think?
When the whole world is busy, the pathway seems so dark; The eyes search for the only one who can light the spark; The heart craves for his presence, wishing for his one call; Wishing if he could hold you
Blessed Diana, thrilling phrases of love would make a paragraph, for your much distinguished and magnificent epitaph. Your slumber to eternity be likened to a sleeping beauty, who will be awakened by the kiss of a Seraphic Prince of immortality.
“Mary, are you blind? Mary, are you dying? Mary, are you kind? Mary, I am happy for you. Mary, Mary, Mary; the blind lady from the darkness. You come slowly from the ground, as your eyes are stitched tight. Mary,
People took pictures of each other Just to prove that they loved one another Just to prove that they really existed People take pictures of themselves Just to prove that they’re happy with themselves Just to prove that they’re really
In late Spring when heros scream A source of sophistication from faint misery Inside the thwart hidden silence of the pivotal solace of my mind With mind blowing excursion toward the legally blind inside Woods in growing habitation & silence
Once did muddy little feet tread their sweet mischief through her doorway Giggles ran naked through the den, marked by a trail of impish footprints The cat nervously hid beneath the sofa, The dog excitedly barked in delight, freckled innocence
On a day icy-cold, snowy and serene Glancing through the window ebony-framed Stitched a silk scarf a genial queen Prickled when she her slim flat finger Three blood drops fell upon her sewing Gave she birth to a girl ”Snow
Morning is too cold, winter sun with least influence Flickers with lost glory, the road appears dusty Leading to vast rural field. The man in front of you in shabby attire In hurrying feet to attain his morning calls. Thy
– However popular you are , you feel most unpopular at times Popularity is like an intoxication feelings of pride takes you to the skies when the spirits sink in feelings of frustration sets in the moment spirits sink out
I move mechanically on concrete roads Puzzled surrounding, locked in codes Straight faces, scanning smoke Lifeless existence, a solemn joke. Just then something knocks my brain A figure holding umbrella, when there’s no rain Peace struck shape, no layers of