Her Poems - Poems about Her

. az king solomon'z ...

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Basking in the sunlight In a field of flowers A peaceful look in her She looks up to the sky And realises how much she loves life This is all she wanted In a world that eradicates through hatred In this moment She felt grounded Listening to the sounds of nature She lost a lot of her...

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Like a cloud before the storm she drifted a quiet chaos behind her eyes a restless wind inside her chest. She had lived fast chasing luxury saying yes to everything except herself. One pocket to another she moved digging holes to fill others never noticing she was sinking. Now her young soul wanders chased by the storm she once fed. She regrets being born forgetting she once made the sun feel...

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P: "Why are girls with beautiful voices so alluring?" Q: "Diaphragm?..." P: "How do boys sing well without using their diaphragm?" Q: "Tonsillitis?..."...

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back in the day i did not get much schoolin' but mama said boy don't let your right hand know what the left hand is doing and everything will be okay now bring mama her slippers Lord have mercy and thank ya Jesus amen...

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Pinkie's ova dried up in summer. Her sackcloths made beach days a bummer, till she caught a sperm whale— an Aussie bowler, "Gale"— who had spun her like a newcomer....

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Would you let me know? If trying to show you the outer rounds of heaven don't, keep me on the charm offensive anymore. If you fail to see me as the one-man, who finds you worth fighting for... Then I'd give anything, to temper your belief in all these promises Replacing all doubt with absolute certainty Still, I worry not, because...

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She wasn’t just beautiful— she was the pause between two heartbeats, the way the moonlight lands softly on a world too harsh for light. Her eyes held galaxies, but not the loud, burning kind— the quiet ones, where stars learn to listen before they shine. Her smile wasn’t just a curve— it was a promise, a soft unraveling of every storm I’d ever carried. She spoke in silences that...

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A thousand or a million It's all the same to me I'll write for you forever My thoughts in words set free I know I cannot tell you Can't say them to your face But maybe you'll still read them They'll be in the same place And maybe you'll look forward To waking in the morn, To see a bouquet waiting, Another poem born And...

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She does not love you. She loves what you give her— And when that gift fades, so too does her affection. The modern man, deluded by poets and preachers, Believes that love is salvation. No— Love is slavery wrapped in perfume. She smiles when you provide, Cries when you delay, Withholds warmth to bend your spine. And you— Grateful for her cold embrace— Call it passion. You sign...

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June 26, 2025 Only if I can reach all children in this world through my simple works and writings... So many children speak different languages and I don't know all of them. Children living in both urban and rural areas may have access to television sets and internet. However, there are...

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She knows how much love you have How long have you had a single wish There are so many wishes just like yours All want a baby of their own Even with the crying, feeding, and diapers It would be something to make your life magical So, today she chose to visit you The sweetest little bundle resting in her beak Gently, she...

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"Echoes of Her" I miss her luscious lips, the way they’d part, Whispering love, then silencing my heart. Tantalizing kisses, like fire and wine, Left a burn on my soul — sweet and divine. The fragrance of her perfume haunts the air, Like ghosted memories tangled in despair. Each breath I take, it aches like a crime — A scent that holds me...

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love shines her light unto the heart that open and close like the ash pink rose that walks by faith and not by sight i am sure shall find perfect peace her light unto the heart ...

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I don’t dream often, but I dream of Jeanie, the only one who ever touched my Nadi. I met her bathing in the Irrawaddy. You’d classify her as an in-betweenie, but looking pretty hot in that bikini! She got me going when she called me ‘daddy’! Jean self-identified as “thorough baddie,” but never let me see her Kundalini. I couldn’t leave her working...

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