Crushes poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best Crushes poems ever written. Read all poems about Crushes.
The young maricones and the horny muchachas,
The big fat widows delirious from insomnia,
The young wives thirty hours' pregnant,
And the hoarse tomcats that cross my garden at night,
Genius, like gold and precious stones,
is chiefly prized because of its rarity.
But, lo! from forth a copse that neighbours by,
A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud,
Adonis' trampling courser doth espy,
And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud;
1. Take a shower you don't want to smell.
2. Pick out an outfit that will blend in with the latest trends and won't make you a laughing stock of the school more than you already are
3. Put on some makeup so you can't even recognize yourself and your face tingles with an unbelievable issue. You can't satisfy otherwise you'll have ruined the hours of meticulous painting you apply to your face.
Desire intends to merge
Crossfire, in between the feat
AMONGST THE HIGHLY PLACED
It is considered low to talk about food.
The fact is: they have
Dust in the winds
Shadows walking leaving trails
Eyes cocking navigate scents meddle the streets
Nightingale scans the sounds of thousands voices
The world is a vast market of trading love
though it is not a visible commodity at all
The rats’ adept in a rat race
Buy the tickets from a shrink,
And board a train of mental stress,
Hurriedly in a wink.
Here, where the world is quiet,
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams;
When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind
Like aged warriors westward, tragic, thinned
Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes,
As the Sun
Seeps into the bones,
A gust of wild wind
Carries an uneven blow
When divine order
Wraps gifts in mortals hands
The birches are mad with green points
the wood's edge is burning with their green,
burning, seething--No, no, no.
The birches are opening their leaves one
Today, recovering from influenza,
I begin, having nothing worse to do,
This autobiography that ends a
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
A wild-bear chace, didst never see?
Then hast thou lived in vain.
Thy richest bump of glorious glee,
Lies desert in thy brain.
Raise me more love… raise me
my prettiest fits of madness
O’ dagger’s journey… in my flesh
and knife’s plunge…
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam waked, so customed; for his sleep
Was aery-light, from pure digestion bred,
processed seashore castle,
nature's gentle powder never
Most of the crushes remain undisclosed in life;
And rightly so, because
The crushes that remain undisclosed,
Remain sweet and sought after forever.
it has long been forgotten this practice of the mother
weaning a child she crushes the seeds of a green
chili rubs it to her nipple what the child feels
she too will share in this act of love
my own mother says it was not meant
to be cruel when cruelty she tells me
is a child's lips torn from breast as proof
back home the women wear teeth marks
Hope is a lovely bird that always flies
the beautiful light that always dies
a stone that crushes when it can't be carried any farther.
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