Xmas poems bring the best collection of short and long xmas poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great xmas rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these xmas poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on xmas are here for you.
Does anyone else lie awake at night, Silently putting the world to rights, Wondering if they should get out of bed, Or keep on trying to sleep instead. It’s December and I seem to think it’s funny, To think about
This place is always a little lonely At the weekends…no noise and life; I like solitude, But not in places Where there’s recently been A lot of people. Reclusiveness protects you From nostalgia, And you can be as nostalgic In
Last of the sunlight filtered in In through the window Lying lazy on my couch I saw Particles Particles dancing in the rays In the rays of the fading light Suspended thus Hanging thus What might they be thinking? Prancing,bobbing
A face unbeknownst – belying recognition, To create mighty buildings is his mission. With caring hands does he mix, The cement and mud that he spreads over the bricks. Over his head he carries, The stones brought from the quarries.
Why is it so difficult to convince The Heart, That feelings nowadays are sold at The Mart. Ventured into The Mart, in hand The Heart, And In tow, a shopping cart. Trust was on sale in a neat pack, Came
The wind swept trees stand tall like Hercules with all his strength, for here in this place lies the dead and dying of mankind. Here in this turmoil we also see God. Within the desert the winds are stirring again
In the present I look out the night window coffee steaming through the smoke A reflection of myself looking into my eyes A child, never a child, a lingering old soul with no true idea of what a soul is,
There is a picture on the wall, With some people hanging around Each smiling and laughing Enjoying and having the time of their lives Each wearing their own costumes, Each with their own colours Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Yellow, Green,
Who am I? Sometimes I wonder… I am a disciple…stumbling along an old, rocky path An angel? No…just a woman… Straining just to touch the hem of His garment Longing to be closer, ever closer to Him I am a
Not everyone is nice and kind But everyone will get hurt sometimes Occasionally, someone will cross the line Some will even become insensitive at times But we all have mountains that we must climb So often life is like being
Oh my love, Thank you for bringing me this precious gift, Life without you my love, Will be nearly impossible, I rather stare death right in the face, Than losing you for more than one second my love, I feel
There’s a pile of wounded umbrellas overlapping in the derelict doorway, sure to be some kind of slumbering gorilla back there, grinding its gray knuckles into the tiles and broken glass. Hundreds of people walking by on market day, bands
Chains remain chains till the time they are token Of all love and affection by staying knitted well But when hatred overtakes they stand broken Then love no more aspires to dwell in hell In the darkness of quagmire of
Many years ago when my Motherland rock with political unrest, I was waiting to get the final word from those in charge. A young mother with two young sons, one, I was carrying on my arms, he was too little
In my imaginary country stoned port authorities deport individuals for bad taste: the absurdity of airbrushed garments or plaid and argyle… Semper fi legal leniency toward serial killers –such immense effort, the extreme exertions of the will that conceals so
In an unfamiliar thorny place, My grandparents’ home stood. Gone were the sounds of voices Sign of life swallowed up. The spot where we played, Path where the grass faded trampled on by footsteps, gone. So were my childhood references.
In your eyes, I watched fireflies dancing… I listen to a song within my heart, shredded, broken whispers… at dusk listening to the music of falling leaves laid bare my heartaches… tonight, it rains with thunder, being alone is quite
He did not fathom my words; Or that ensnaring wasn’t meant for birds. I was at my wits end; But his stiff-necked tenacity refused to bend. What’s sauce for the goose wasn’t sauce for the gander; I lacked the candour
I rouse from the lap of ocean.. rose up down now and than… flew on on the wings of clouds.. walk play and commit many fouls… Collide with mighty mountains.. feeling cavalier..without any pain… a sudden my tears rushing down
It is not on you, dear poet, but on your Nation, and its rulers, spread all over Their body, mind and soul; irreparable, Their cancerous thoughts and deeds; ‘The red salute’, they offer to all, a mean, Cheap and cruel
Would not wear the seasoned face. Eye for eye blasting the truth. The path becomes the tunnel. Unending, in pain of speech at the expense of ethics. Under the fingernails they start interbreeding the ideas, crimnalizing the upright past. A
It’s an adjustment, everyone says, life is to adjust Without questioning, what this adjustment means to anyone. Keep silent, when the other-end goes on shouting and argue For or against, do agree, whatever the other end demands, Without asking why
Ah, let come this stifling breeze now to ye all! Such sweet sap envelops my every pore, Shall I await for the ever fresh rainfall? For I fear the amber of daylight no more. Dormant they recline on fields of
Sometimes lurking in corner. Sometimes tumbling down endlessly, and sometimes with frozen smile immolating oneself before an idol to be. He danced imprisoned in a glass case whole life. Overcoming the pretentious inhibition to stand naked in dimlights of arguments.
A bud, A flower you are a closed bud come bloom into a flower and spread the fragrance of love into this scentless garden of my life!! Infinite from infinity “i” came kaleidoscoping through the horizons of a womb of
looking at her, I glazed into her innocent eyes never knowing the false truth hidden in ’em never could I imagine that it was her, never knew it was her. looking at her, I gazed into her innocent eyes believing
The yellow beaked vultures were waiting. A cloth bag contains the bleached remains; his father. Impeccable gift unmasked. After the inferno, hydrants went dry. The guilt survives the dispossession, pondering over the black dew now covering the pink roses. The
It is said to have goodness, It could be enjoyed with or without sweetness. Having coffee is the time, To discuss issues which are prime. Watching children play, Or granny flaunting the pot she made out of clay. Putting a
Friend, not a companion but one who understands. Years, distance and time does not come between us. How pleasant are our sparse reunions. You’ve comforted, have always been there for me. Not only in my hour of need but also
Who is the shepherd of fate? Nobody knows the answer to date A rhetorical question that provokes hate Seven out of eight Feel we are the masters of our own fate They say we control our mates They say we