Deserts Poems - Poems about Deserts

I look at them, at the lines on my palm like rivers flowing through secret deserts, Wondering if they truly tell fate, if the future hides in the mist, Or perhaps they are just lies spreading like fire igniting dreams that burn. I look at them, hoping to see something, a whispered word among the lines of silence, But...

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Sandstorm churning in my mind tonight, driven by the wind of change. And I know… it’s not that easy. Drove a million miles and it is all the same, spinning through the circles of my mind. And it’s cold… it’s not that easy. But there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know - on the deserts of New Mexico, I see...

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The deserts brown, the deserts bare, at first it seems there’s nothing there; the deserts hard, the deserts stone, a rare few make this place their home; the deserts vast, the deserts bleached, coyotes roam far for their feasts; the deserts heat, the deserts rays, you won’t last at the height of day; the deserts dark, the deserts dry, nighttime chill takes you by...

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Sandstorm churning in my mind tonight, driven by the wind of change, and I know… it’s not that easy. Drove a million miles and it is all the same, spinning through the circles of my mind, and it’s cold… it’s not that easy. But there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know - on the deserts of New Mexico, I see forever...

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I love just deserts poems as I love simplicity, birds, and stars...

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Behold! Where is it no mortal soul fathoms to dare? The foretold detestable dunes of despair! Whose sands of crystalline luminescence Drown and drain thy essence. Far within that redolent tomb Hidden deeper inside the heavens moon, Where the souls of the damned unwillingly swoon Slaves to the sin that fathered their doom. Where thou art subject...

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If love was just a picture, Then the frame would be the heart. Those who waited in faith and patience, Remained recluse in love. Love is the little hope that one's wants, But deserts in times of needs... Abandoned by true love is the misery of reality, As only those who went through knows the opium of...

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Flowers need much rain, their petals are very dry, their stems are too weak; Nature's future is bleak, draught is a terrible bane, not a boon for a butterfly! Clouds are thin, transparent, and frail, and soon will lament and scorch... meeting the flaming hot torch; silent ravens hide in the branches of the spruces where they sadly chill! Glaciers melt and grizzling...

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"The Barefoot Magus: Deserts and Oceans" In the lost years we meet strangers found yet known in the strangest desert dreams Barefeet, we speak of strange magic hidden in our hearts invisible, seldom ever seen Across great oceans we then walk, we hold each other, faith inside our souls trust is given towards a known stranger sharing stories along the arduous journey invoking our true Home (LadyLabyrinth / 2021) EASTER 4.4.21 "Become...

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Deserts Earth’s Bold head...

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In sand dune deserts, fresh fountains spring; Delicate cactus dance in mangrove-lit streams; Lush green leaves in breeze graciously swing, And a poet stiches stars, on soft skin of beams. In snow-frozen fields, merrily marigolds smile; Sun prolongs his shift and night furls her veil; Alone, moon mourns and light clings to a stile, And a poet stiches stars, on a stand...

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Down the busy road I ride Spiralling control of the reins, Drenched in sweat with pride I surrendered myself to the rains. Merchants I met many During my service at the docks, I couldn't but find ,any Wanderer like me in the merchant's block. The tenure I recall Of visiting the sandy desert, Where the sun lets the ember fall Is the only description ,it's...

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Albert G Walpole, proud legionnaire Clerk to the council for all of his days Lived with his mother in Hartington D'Arcy Nice little end terrace, quite set in his ways But one Sunday evening, returning from church This man of high values, a virtuous clean-liver Was mugged by some yobs full of Shipyard pale ale Relieved of his wallet and thrown in...

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In the bleached whitish sky I am flying on a bellied pelican, contemplating from above a pastoral landscape and I’m writing these lines. Below are small people on the slopes of a small hill in the small groves are making small love. Unaware of the big people, who are making a huge love in the big groves on the slopes of a tall mountain. In the distance, you...

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Chasing the crown, sitting the throne —regal opposed Pursuit once free, capture enslaves —jailer demands Clipping one wing, grounding the wish —motion suppressed Weight pushing down, hope abandoned —freedom deserts (Strafford Pennsylvania: February, 2017)...

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