Short Give Rise Poems
Short Give Rise Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Give Rise by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Give Rise by length and keyword.
Wisdom that doesn't give rise to feeling is incomplete,
Feeling that doesn't translate into action is incomplete,
Action that doesn't give rise to fulfilment is incomplete,
For fulfilment, is returning to the self.
Form:
april brings us
its share of miracles
of life that sprouts
in shades of green
every year the cycle
like clockwork
rejuvenates yet
we are always in awe
spring give rise
to our sense of salvation
and of hope that
we have not been forsaken
I have all the fears
Which gave birth
Only to tears
All the things I borrow
Give rise only to sorrow
And have I all pains
Bring forth no gains
And am I just as sick
To look like a stick
Even if I did rake
I’ll need all the brakes
O God, grant the kish
To end all my wish!
I have all the fears
Which gave birth
Only to tears
All the things I borrow
Give rise only to sorrow
And have I all pains
Bring forth no gains
And am I just as sick
To look like a stick
Even if I did rake
I’ll need all the brakes
O God, grant the kish
To end all my wish!
Legend has foretold,
The hazy illumination...of a silver harvest-moon,
Shall give rise...to the sprouting of the chosen one.
Harvested in a magical field,
In an enchanted hollow:
The breeze whispers the eerie oracle of the witch.
And within its pallid body,
Dwells the seeds of everlasting life.
This injured head appears to pose
some simple questions.
Is this head what gave rise
to the fall to the floor?
Did the fall give rise
to the pills?
Did the pills give rise
to the cure that gave rise
to my thanks
to the fall to the floor
that sent me questioning?
A head asks questions of itself.
(Nov 2021)
We float for years - drift and disintegrate.
But we don’t give rise to flowers.
We pollute; as our morality incinerates,
We float and die - drift and disintegrate.
From ourselves we seek to liberate -
Clasp our hands on bent knees we cower.
We float only to fall - drift and disintegrate.
And we don’t give rise to flowers.
Somber stroll under gray skies
No sun rays upon nature’s basket
Moods change becoming dismal
Feathered friends give rise to our diversion
Feathered friends capture our attention
by invigorating feelings with uplifting incentives
to replace our demeanor and to restore our compatibility
Such a pleasure to behold true feathers of winter’s glory
Persuasive orators deliver
fiery discourses
messages rendered meaningless
for what can be said or heard
when no one listens
Generations of fertile minds
now give rise to contempt
disillusioned by empty words
poisoned with empty promises
Like parasites
unbalanced minds distort truth
destroying all hope for reconciliation
democrats, the party of genocide
Peeping to the sky:
Beating wings of twilight
Leading home, the birds
Horizon, engulf the ember Sun.
Invitation of the dying day
Give rise to a tranquil bay.
Putting me in the battle
Of: need and happiness.
Every viewpoint
From the hot iron pan
Searching those mountains
Of a distant homeland
Cool breeze along with
Perfumes of spring woods
Memories of myrtles
Holding back to hear:
Cooing, Cuckoos.
Regret is like a hot coal in the right hand,
And shuffled quickly to the left, then back again
With fervored reproach giving harsh reprimand
In a heart broken world that no words can soften.
Thus stomach's cruel acids give rise to great pain,
While the brain's daily thoughts are construed in a blur.
Soon friendship is lost when regret makes its gain.
Kick far the hot coal. Let not regret reoccur.
Many years ago Galileo scanned the sky
And was astounded with a wondrous sight
Colorful rings around this planet
Saturn's glory in the starry night
Those rings are made of coldest ice
Just like the rings around your heart
You will not break those telling bands
Nor let my love pull them apart
The rings and moons of Saturn
Far beacons in the distant sky
Give rise to our contemplation
And the age old question.".why?"
For the Ring contest..
No seeds, spinach or carrots around;
no greens, or reds, or oranges found.
Only the smooth sliding elegance
of twosome as one in skating dance.
"Sequined Septuagenarians"
much smoother than fresh-ironed linens.
Golden, gliding glances so well-known,
minute, mellow movements, subtly shown.
A bittersweet moment hangs midair
as dazzling Old Smoothies sway with flair.
Both smoothies are good parcel and part,
but Old Smoothies give rise to the heart.