Precisions Poems - Poems about Precisions

...I should have grinned when morning came Atop posts of gaping day, with lunatics Humming dirges of a broken world. I remained glued to my gloom. Rising from the pit of hell, I held Concupiscent......

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...I dream the dream of yesterday of how we used to dance and play and how the music in the street brought the whole nation to its feet; the sun has come and gone and find you sitting on the lawn, waiti......

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...She sits on a stone on top of the mountain gazing at universe around her, a cascade of mountain stands in front of her and the trees between the mountain stand like brave soldiers going to battle. ......

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...Convoluted Reflections of Possibility Artistotle reflecting on the nature of man Convoluted reflections of possibility that can Manifest into existence at the clapping of a hand And contest t......

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...Signs of the Times A dictator-ship sailing the seven seas A night-birds song on the evenings breeze An unorthodox relationship with anti-freeze The heimleck manoeuvre over a piece of cheese ......

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...Project Cadmus Indemnity and precisions We ride sequences an......

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...Once in old Persia a Carpet maker, was known for his unique craft caretaker. Precisions in velvet landscape, colors that invite the eye to escape. Finest stitches that embrace, artistic craft to......

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...Funeral in 1963 Beveled dusty cracked glass shielding Mother Mary enthroned, Amidst flying angelic devotions atop whipped clouds of icy air, Enslaved by an antique miracle made manifest in sta......

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...Happy Anniversary hubby ,You are such a darling to have you in both of our lives..Thank God for this many years of togetherness & many more to go..No matter what will always b der fr you! Wrote a poe......

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...In the bitterest of the cold polar north shadows of illusions dwell, Reflections of light on ice, maybe so or is there more to these Optical delusions, the natives say creatures hide amongst these ......

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...I am Africa, I am man Hear my drums, know my heart beat My sorrow is not metered in iambic lines Life does not speak that way So artificial this enumeration of joy So false this constant rise an......

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...Life is a canvas. Does it make any sense? Of course not but, its a beautiful mess you can reminisce. If life were a pattern, a distinct coarse, a set road there would be a well worn path und......

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...Which Came First? The discourse has been argued many times before. By kings, by peasants, and learned men galore… By women, by children nearly started war! One says, “It was the chicken, of c......

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