Rare and precious is the one born to lead Mediocre bosses, over their heads Are as common as memos we don’t read The sleep we lose softly feathers their beds
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Introduction You may know who this is for, she loves flowers, and this is a sonnet for her. The music is my favourite version of "Wild Mountain Thyme" by The Silencers
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 years ago in Poets
A glass half empty is a glass half full, A day half gone - a prelude to an evening, How often point of view affects the meaning
By Vadim Kagan2 years ago in Poets
The era of 21st century is going on. Big things about human technology and Wanting to find God. But he is still within himself,
By Suraj poetry plus 2 years ago in Poets
The view astounds As the word bounds from the top to the ground I find what was said to not be found My soul resonates sound
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Oh, gentle Thunder Lizard, noble beast, Immense, yet dwarfed by others of your kind Whose reign, as yours, mysteriously ceased,
By Dana Crandell2 years ago in Poets
If I were stung by a bee, Would the uncertainty of the writhing bane of living finally subside the menace of who we are deemed to be?
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
In the dawn of time, when Earth was young, A colossal silhouette against the rising sun, The sauropod roamed, its footsteps thunderous, Leaving imprints in mud, a legacy wondrous.
By QUBA ASHRAF BALOCH2 years ago in Poets
Kings come and go But art speaks to the human soul Art is immortality This poem was inspired by a friend asking the question, “I'm good at art but does that even mean anything at the end of the day?”
You Took My Blood And Took My Time Because You Could And I Said Fine X You Made It Clear Others Mattered Me, Out Of Here
Introduction A close friend told me how much they loved lilacs and peonies, so I wrote this sonnet for them. The music is "Flowers In The Window" by Travis.
I see the road ahead The fields stretching beyond the horizon The sky turning red The fields will be my bed. There are no borders I know of
By Ricky Lahiri2 years ago in Poets
