Best Description Poems

"TOUCH"

I want to touch your life
and leave a mark ...
... a deep impression ...
So you will think of me
and of my smile ...
... my sweet...

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Eyes are the windows of a soul and they say ‘Love is blind’
But how do you describe colour to a sightless person?

Such depths to your...

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Rhythmic tones form a most beautiful symphony of love 
A shining star as nature's splendor reflects Heaven’s light 
It’s my destiny to learn a passion...

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Ignorance is definitely a description of bliss
Look at Washington if you don’t believe this
They are never on target, they always miss
Their biggest decision is whose...

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Divinity lives beyond description
Alone, a weary heart cries from its pain
Desire eager for its conscription
Might truth and love turn this way again?

Sweet mysteries, this life,...

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My heart skips a beat my love each and every time 
I’m with you my dearest sweet and lovely Darling
Since the passions and feelings you...

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(The memories are simple, living the feeling significant)

After conquering Beamsley Beacon due Southwest,
Rombald’s moor stood, while for centuries
within the valley the minute dwellings
of grey stone,...

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I am home ...

oh, my heart
      pray, hush its cadence
         for the...

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I’ve distanced myself
I didn’t mean to
Didn’t set out to do it
An unconscious act of the mind 
For self preservation

My visits went to once a week
Sunday...

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Once so loyal and always true the gargoyles watch everything now
During their stony slumbers with their careful one-eyed open view,
As evil red-eyed demons rain down...

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Imagine a world
Where silence fills the void,
Sighing so its heard,
A voice raining kindness.

Imagine a life
Where joy is alive inside
The ones who know strife
Will be erased...

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Description of The Funeral of Atala (Funérailles d'Atala or Atala au tombeau), 1808, Louvre

I sauntered through the Louvre, observing art.
One painting struck me for its...

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Rum was feeling playful so he went to find a mouse
He looked in every nook and cranny right throughout the house
But all the mice were...

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In the whisper of a moonlight stream I heard her sigh or so I thought, 
in the rustle of a mottled deer in oak pine...

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In the beginning was the word
Before that, no noun, no thing
Then no sound was ever heard
And no passing bell would ring

So therefore no adjective was...

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