Books Poems | Examples of Books Poetry

a good book and my cat cushions and a faux fur throw a nook by the window with a view onto the city park where birds have returned to nest following the harsh winter everyone's come out of hibernation and the cycle begins of rejuvenation life and love posted on May 9, 2025...

Continue reading...

I feel like a child in an adult skin, Living with dreams from the beginning One era has come abd gone leaving Hope stranded on the lawn, yet I have Not had a taste of life despite the Painful sacrifice and when the wind blows I look for somewhere else to go but the Avenue in front of me is gothic...

Continue reading...

My face, a wrinkle deep, My past, a messy choice, My present, conflicting options, Yet, I'm full of desire for a beauty queen. ...

Continue reading...

Character A human life is very precious; it is not like other lives. It experiences friendship, camaraderie, neighbors, marriage, festivals, customs, ethics, etc. What...

Continue reading...

Are wars as natural as forest fires? The world is a restless war between India and Pakistan's armies are ready and eager to fight as usual, the people are ill-informed  Israel has a problem; people are in an uproar  the way the sitting regime mishandle  the constant warfare, there might be a civil war the USA, that believes in an uni-polar world ...

Continue reading...

high atop the shelf an old worn book calling my name f a l l i n g off the page an invitation to dream... ...

Continue reading...

Handle the values A gentleman asked, "You talk about God, don't you get tired, and you connect on mobile to share your daily routine? How do you handle it?" Answer: "Man, I see society...

Continue reading...

overcast I like rain, not angry rain with an attitude neglected by the mother cloud and take revenge for its misbegotten infancy  lashing those who sought peace and the promise of forever, with ice blasts   soft rain that feels like a caress, a day in June  Drips from my blue umbrella feel like kisses from a long-time lover  ...

Continue reading...

The books miss our hands. Dust forms letters overnight— “Still here. Still waiting.”...

Continue reading...

MY DORMANT PAST MEMORIES OF THE PAST MAY COME AND GO, BUT ONE NEEDS TO BE IN CONTINOUS FLOW. SMELL OF CRUMPLED DREAMS IS IN MY MIND, ANALOGY OF BOTH ALWAYS KEEP US BIND. DREAMS TURNED INTO SMOKE AND SPREAD WINGS, COMING BACK TO ME GASP AND UNIFY IN WRING. MAY BE ANOTHER DAY SOMEONE BRING TO FRUITION, THAT DAY...

Continue reading...

A shimmering thread binds thoughts together Of moments of joy and sorrow With a spring in our steps and a hope anew Is the day tomorrow The past is indeed a cherished treasure As good ,memories fruit prevails and bitterness quelled By the pen of positivity dispelled Relishing a marvel indeed With an inspiration for future good deeds to the almighty...

Continue reading...

They say, “Work harder, hustle more,” like your value depends on how fast you move, like success only counts if you're always racing. But what if the race isn’t real? What if going slow is just you learning how to fly? Slow isn’t lazy—it’s thoughtful. It’s like the roots of a strong tree, growing deep and steady, not blowing around like dust. It’s...

Continue reading...

Millie, the mermaid was a reading machine. It started with a shipwreck, among the marine. A library for a king had gone down in the wreck. I can teach myself to read, she said without genuflect. She started with picture books, one word on a page Those old Dick, Jane and Sally texts which tells my age. Moved on to primers...

Continue reading...

You tell me I feel like home, but not that it's solely in name. Your words are woven with lace-- delicate, flowery, light. They coil and crease, a nasty, distasteful undertone. Rough edges scrape my knuckles, bloody bruises bloom. Malice nestled in every utterance. I crack you open, like the book you told me you were but your words...

Continue reading...

High in the Eyrie, stone cold and stark, Where stars peer in and walls leave a mark, The sky is a floor and the wind is a blade, And the edge is a whisper where brave men fade. The stone is slanted, the door left wide, So night may beckon and pride may slide. Here justice hangs by a falcon’s cry, In...

Continue reading...