Short Habituated Poems
Short Habituated Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Habituated by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Habituated by length and keyword.
Habituated in a rain-spell
Crowned which lesson to bide
Is with relief, as bright-faced
Sky-bursts the other side
Bear, too, this short episode
Down-weeping, for sorrow
Can you, in just the same way;
Matching what does follow.
Bedazzled in a opaque beauty, trapped deep within the colossal caverns of
senseless agony.
Lie await the nefarious to bestow, conjuring assailing flames.
The hindered habituated set free above all inversely to conquer, retake reality
Form:
I'm sorry for being a bright blue sky ,
stretched out for you to fly.
I'm sorry for being a bright orange sun,
to which your days had begun.
I'm sorry that the earth is brown,
and you were too down to see,
how majestic the purple flowers sprout.
I'm sorry that your bed is lofty now,
for the ones who made it,
knew not how,
how badly your back ached.
for you were already habituated to
the hardness of this low concrete life.
Red beacon, burnished landmark
Rustic domiscile, ruddy stable
Sentinel on the scenic route
Natural redoubt with primitive clout
Wooden canvas, organic sculpture
Unvarnished facade with homespun charm
Fabricated equine loft
Habituated shelter for rodent, fowl
Free-flowing form in static realm
Leased to the fertile land you adorn
Pastoral heirloom, cherished monument
Essential dwelling, nostalgic mold
habituated to joy currents
we encourage bliss magnetism
to dance within our body as it likes
but it's pain that we choose to resist
and therefore feral residue yet remains
within feeble form, as delusion unresolved
just like the unshapely jagged rock
we prefer the river's gentle caress
that smoothens edges over time
minding not laboured breathing
in our decaying organic form
the slow path, definitely
why then complain
14-December-2022
Born into a culture,
conditioned by belief,
we pray as we are told,
deepening delusion,
from birth till we grow old.
Born into a culture,
following ritual,
we trust the holy book
but if we pause to think,
we’ll see we were mistook.
Born into a culture,
we’re habituated
to feeling we are right
and all others are wrong
but have we seen the light?
Born into a culture,
we just follow the herd,
asking not who we are,
as that that transcends form,
our soul’s luminous star.