Happiness Symbolism Poems | Examples
These Happiness Symbolism poems are examples of Symbolism poems about Happiness. These are the best examples of Symbolism Happiness poems written by international poets.
We cuddle close in cashmere sheets,?
Trading secrets, life’s sweet feats.?
You bring the funds, I bring the charm,?
Together, babe, we do no harm.
Before you, nights were quiet, gray,?
Now love and warmth have come to stay.?
We count the dollars, laugh, and sigh… ?
It’s your kiss that changed my life, and why
delicate ribbons
swaying with wisteria ~
spider's oasis
With eagerness I make my way to my favorite place
Where gratitude floats freely above every head
Where happiness is the coverlet that embraces each bed
Where laughter is contagious and strikes the young and old
Where love is a daily garment that adorns every soul
Where joy is a feather that nudges all to soar
Where the house of contentment has a welcoming door
This is my favorite place
The summer breeze lapped at my hair
Firmly yet gently lifting each strand
The warm caress of the sun
Brought happiness to my weeping skin
My lips parted as laughter
Freely trickled down my chin
My eyes lit a beaming path for my feet
As I began my evening walk
Abruptly I tripped and fell
Soberly I looked around
For the object of my humility
And found myself gazing into my own eyes
I had tripped and fallen over myself
Fighting to regain a composure
That proved to be elusive
I stood and faced myself
As I continued my evening walk
There is nothing that you need to do or say,
I can see what you are thinking by looking into your eyes.
Those eyes that are the window to your soul,
Those eyes that are so often difficult to control.
I see your eyes go dark when you are feeling angry or sad,
Your eyes that sparkle and shine when things are not too bad.
So, I look at, and I watch your eyes, you don't have to speak,
And I know you will find the happiness that you seek.
My old guitar has traveled many miles,
And seen its fair share of tears but many more smiles.
Its listeners vary – some will stop and stay,
While others, in a rush, turn and walk away.
The melodies it sings, and the emotions it projects,
Take us back to an earlier time, or a memory we can’t forget.
Her mellow tone resonates across the room,
Filling the expanse with delights of our favorite tunes.
It may not have a mind, but some say it has a soul,
Her feelings emerge in rhythms of country, blues, or rock-n-roll.
She may be old, but she remains firm and strong,
She’s always there to get me through whatever comes along.
She is almost as old as I but still a star,
I’ll always be so thankful for my old guitar.
No Reality to Echo From
To live is to echo a reality
In which there is no reality to echo from
Because reality as we know it isn't here, nor anywhere
It's always moving
It's always echoing
It’s always shifting and filtering within itself
It's always relative to oneself
To itself
So what does the echo…echo?
The lives of one another? The memories?
It's the stories, the legends, the anecdotes
the laughter, cries, pain, pleasure, sadness, and happiness, shared among us
That is the echo, that our Reality
The reality with no reality
The echoes that are relative to us as people that also echo in the echo
Bouncing like waves from reality walls
Walls that keep us going
Echoes in our reality
Reality in our echoes in which there is
No reality to echo from.
A vibrant hue, a bold design,
It drapes her form, a strength divine.
No longer veiled in shades of gray,
She shines in crimson, come what may.
The silken threads, a vibrant dance,
Reflect her spirit, her fierce trance.
A testament to freedom's call,
She wears her power, standing tall.
The whispers fade, the doubts retreat,
Her crimson sari, a bold feat.
A declaration, loud and clear,
She's here to conquer, banishing fear.
There's a fire in the forest, it's all burning down,
There's a fury in the chorus, it's a lovely sound,
Pain, sorrow, anger, oh, it's coming out,
Cabin in the flames, couldn't hear them shout.
And the smoke, the smoke covers the sky,
Burning higher as our story cries,
The pages ripped and burning in the draft,
All the words turn to ash, down to the very last.
biting
into the peach
flesh flailing
in my mouth
crawling inside
melting meat
swallowing sin
feeling it float
further down
pit seeking
sweet sound
vast vibration
roots roaring
up and down
through the ground
picking the peach
squeezing
silky
sustenance
sinking teeth
spirit found
I'm glad we're friends
You really do
Change my mood
To fresh and new
The strangest thing
My heart receives
Like sunlight for
Unshadowed leaves
I give you time
No chore for me
I think I would..
Eternally
One day, as I sat musing
Matter at hand, confusing
Nothing came to me enforced
No matter how much coerced
Effort was there, intent too
Ideas not coming through
Seemed to me a mental block
Not knowing how to unlock
Lacked in spontaneity
Frozen till eternity
Nothing had worked until fear
gripped me as I shed a tear
Just then the cogs of life turned
Things fell in place as I yearned
The cobwebs began to clear
Out of self-doubts, I could steer
Ebbs and eddies receded
Swiftly gained ground conceded
Sharp mind's spontaneity
Removed my anxiety
Case of serendipity
Resolved my old self-pity
I was searching for power
But discovered fair flower
Things now come naturally
Deal with 'I' rationally
Ideas now come in droves
My spontaneity shows
Spontaneity in life
Happiness even in strife
Life in full with better half
You're never short of a laugh
I'm a brick and oh so lonely,
sitting here a hundred years.
Dry as dirt...oh if only
I could shed a single tear.
Here's my story, forty stories,
up way high above the ground.
To the left and to the right,
looking up and looking down,
all the bricks are just like me,
an ocean of monotony.
Yes, we share, but we don't talk
about the life here on our block.
Two years past, I fell from this wall,
and preyed someone would miss me.
But whether below,
or returned- way up here,
I knew no one would kiss me.
Birds above are everywhere,
people below hold hands and walk.
My life though,
all take for granted, sitting here
day after day.
If my life was more enchanted,
I’d gladly be a brick who’d say:
“I’m a brick, a happy brick,
happy to be where I stay.”
You call me a flower
But what kind?
Is it a yellow tulip? A cluster of warm sunshine and happiness?
Or maybe a Lily of the Valley? The tears I’ve shed for you made into delicate little milky white blossoms
Each petal carefully watered by the streams of water that run down my cheeks
Or am I an Aster? A small star, made from Astrea’s tears, so small and insignificant compared to the shining, sparkling gems that light up the night sky. Looking up at those ethereal jewels, never being enough. No wonder Astrea cried, I would’ve cried too.
Or am I a White Lily? My innocence and purity once so clean, as white as snow now forever tainted with your darkness. A dark, unremovable mark on the alabastrine flower, that will stay, no matter how much I try to get rid of it.
With happiness, I love to smile.
Excitement I show with my eyes.
This gives me such a pleasant style,
embracing life like a glittered prize.
Gleam is another name of mine.
In sunlight on water I go.
I love to caress gems divine.
With brightness I visit the snow.
I move with fireflies in night’s sky
In sea I’m friends with jellyfish.
Radiance and sparkle am I.
As fairy dust, I’ll grant a wish!
If I should take a shine to you,
feel flattered, for folks love me so.
I bring such a beautiful view
and good health too, for I am GLOW!