Poems About: IRONY
Poems on / about :
- carpe diem
I saw the stars fading in the smoke..
Smoke that emanated from my heart,
Or was that from my mild Cigar
Or was it a misty wintry night read more »Shivani Agarwal
362.How It Works For Irony
As simple words
pole-danced in smoke,
false hopes blear
under risque lights read more »Norman Santos
363.that sadness that irony and that waste
i still have
when he was old
and sickly read more »RIC S. BASTASA
from Actinides one may be
Alkali Metal is she?
yet if americium was called thee
then francium's where to see? read more »Avery Eglantine
365.Birdy, Confusions and Hanging On To Life
Last bird flew
The wind blew
Rather it roared
Tall wall had a monster? read more »Haldun Unal
366.Swansong of A New Year
Whilst the world
rejoiced with fake stars
and the carousers
spun in loud noises; read more »Norman Santos
'I don't know anything about it'
'I've never studied it'
'I know what I like & know when i C it' read more »John Kielmeyer
368.Song: Spell Out The Blues
There's no-one who's better,
Better than you!
No ruthless go-getter,
With the dumb luck of youth. read more »David SmithWhite
369.The Magenta Agenda
The magenta agenda embedded upon a silk prison is a mirror illuminating synaesthesias.
Depth imperative, a lever of emotion eminence. For what is a prison? Doth it make me in sync with my sins? Mere society’s ills... See not the irony, hear not the irony, feel not the irony for in confinement with I the sinned comes forth spiritual compassion, material detachment; alleviation in passion. Yet I feel still of nothing, for I put myself in everything but something.
The magenta agenda is incense to the eyes intriguing dimensions in its absence of time. It impedes deep, moonstruck, capricious droplets rapturously stagnant, romantic in its flourish as it blossoms intense, rained from the beige walls the mind melted on its silky delicate milky skin. read more »Ori Livson
370.Every Single Sound I Listen To; Patience.
Asphyxiated with filthy airs and warmth.
Not knowing and unable to recognize freshness no longer.
Every single day and night..
Smothered by pungent consisting filth and warmth. read more »NurWilmy Francis
Wednesday, January 23,2008
Week 10: Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka read more »tamilarasi shalu
tells both the sweetest
and most melancholic stories... read more »Kathy Dove