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Best Famous Wastelands Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Wastelands poems. This is a select list of the best famous Wastelands poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Wastelands poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of wastelands poems.

Search and read the best famous Wastelands poems, articles about Wastelands poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Wastelands poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

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Written by Majeed Amjad | Create an image from this poem

A Twinkle in Her Eyes

Who can say

Why her eyes,

Those playmates of the hamlet where Beauty dwells,

Why her eyes smile that way ?

 

When notes arising from her soul,

That Temple-Palace of Music,

And traipsing through the land of glad tidings,

Mirthfully smothering the tinkling of their anklets,

Tip toe up, haltingly, secretively,

To the gates of her lips,

Why her gaze sparkles and smiles ?

 

Leaping over islands of silence

And wastelands of sealed lip pining,

When the silhouettes of desire

Come waltzing in

To nestle in an intimate moment’s nest,

Why her gaze sparkles and smiles ?

 

Her soul, that Sprite-Princess,

Neither lifts her veil

Nor voices her song

And when her heart’s ballad

Passes through distant, unexplored worlds

As the faint, lingering sounds of a flute …

Why her gaze sparkles and smiles !


Written by John Matthew | Create an image from this poem

Being Me!

 Wild are my ways, wilder than you think
You will find me standing a little left of frame
You will find me a little away from the meeting place
I am that and much more, insignificant me.
Yes I am the one with the faraway look Of sailors of vast dreamy oceans I look at faraway seas and mountains And wonder why they aren’t near.
There’s great bitterness and dejection That churns, congeals and emanates in my words I think, I write, I orate, because I must The anguish is great, there’s an ocean’s churn.
The world passed me by while I wandered Over the personal deserts and wastelands of my life To stories I wrote and the stories became me Characters became me and I became them.
Crap me, scrap me, scratch me you will find A man too deeply obsessed by observing the world Who feels his words and sentence lay trapped Inside him crying for want of pixels and time.
Out there he stands that man on a moonlit night Shining like a tube and ranting like one possessed Talking his story that no one cares to understand Because it’s not his story but ghost stories they craved!

Book: Reflection on the Important Things