Poems About Rabindranath Tagore Published by Members Recently Online
#RabindranathTagore
summultima
uma
uma
Poem Published
1st Nov 2020 10:15pm
1st Nov 2020 10:15pm
RAKTAKARABI~ BLOOD OLEANDERS: From My Congolese Times… Towards The Light Of Liberation
I am her ‘Madaame’ Of Everything
ingrained in her rarity flashing ivory smiles
to her ever red rising simmering eyeful suns
in delicate armours of tearful hanging glistens
that she unfallibly holds within the kohl
black lashes that yearns to touch
skyhigh liberating flights
Yet, mellowed down rustic
earthen tones of perseverance
she heavily bears forevermore
as weighing down destiny.. in those
simplistic mellowly beaming rays
she sprightly blooms with…
her vivacious pagne’s striking...
ingrained in her rarity flashing ivory smiles
to her ever red rising simmering eyeful suns
in delicate armours of tearful hanging glistens
that she unfallibly holds within the kohl
black lashes that yearns to touch
skyhigh liberating flights
Yet, mellowed down rustic
earthen tones of perseverance
she heavily bears forevermore
as weighing down destiny.. in those
simplistic mellowly beaming rays
she sprightly blooms with…
her vivacious pagne’s striking...
#Africa
#RabindranathTagore
500 reads
9 Comments
summultima
uma
uma
Poem Published
1st Nov 2020 10:15pm
1st Nov 2020 10:15pm
RAKTAKARABI~ BLOOD OLEANDERS: From My Congolese Times… Towards The Light Of Liberation
I am her ‘Madaame’ Of Everything
ingrained in her rarity flashing ivory smiles
to her ever red rising simmering eyeful suns
in delicate armours of tearful hanging glistens
that she unfallibly holds within the kohl
black lashes that yearns to touch
skyhigh liberating flights
Yet, mellowed down rustic
earthen tones of perseverance
she heavily bears forevermore
as weighing down destiny.. in those
simplistic mellowly beaming rays
she sprightly blooms with…
her vivacious pagne’s striking...
ingrained in her rarity flashing ivory smiles
to her ever red rising simmering eyeful suns
in delicate armours of tearful hanging glistens
that she unfallibly holds within the kohl
black lashes that yearns to touch
skyhigh liberating flights
Yet, mellowed down rustic
earthen tones of perseverance
she heavily bears forevermore
as weighing down destiny.. in those
simplistic mellowly beaming rays
she sprightly blooms with…
her vivacious pagne’s striking...
#Africa
#RabindranathTagore
500 reads
9 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
Gitanjali *
( After Rabindranath Tagore )
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
#love
#spiritual
#humankind
#historical
#RabindranathTagore
655 reads
18 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
Gitanjali *
( After Rabindranath Tagore )
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
#love
#spiritual
#humankind
#historical
#RabindranathTagore
655 reads
18 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
Gitanjali *
( After Rabindranath Tagore )
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
#love
#spiritual
#humankind
#historical
#RabindranathTagore
655 reads
18 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
Gitanjali *
( After Rabindranath Tagore )
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
#love
#spiritual
#humankind
#historical
#RabindranathTagore
655 reads
18 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
12th Oct 2020 00:17am
Gitanjali *
( After Rabindranath Tagore )
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
For the life is in the blood.**
From an early age, I'd an aversion to blood-
pooling plates from the rarity of steaks;
tinged lips bathing in the carmine river
of conquered meat between teeth
By teenage years, I understood blood;
it struck chords within my solar plexus—
a many-pointed star of immense knowledge
resonating amid a lost recollection of Love
Nothing ever dies: it survives in crawlspaces
of life, beneath...
#love
#spiritual
#humankind
#historical
#RabindranathTagore
655 reads
18 Comments
nomoth
Poem Published
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
Jayne and James
With the hand of my anger,
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
#grief
#dark
#heaven
#emptiness
#RabindranathTagore
553 reads
3 Comments
nomoth
Poem Published
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
Jayne and James
With the hand of my anger,
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
#grief
#dark
#heaven
#emptiness
#RabindranathTagore
553 reads
3 Comments
nomoth
Poem Published
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
Jayne and James
With the hand of my anger,
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
#grief
#dark
#heaven
#emptiness
#RabindranathTagore
553 reads
3 Comments
nomoth
Poem Published
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
Jayne and James
With the hand of my anger,
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
#grief
#dark
#heaven
#emptiness
#RabindranathTagore
553 reads
3 Comments
nomoth
Poem Published
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
27th Oct 2020 9:56pm
Jayne and James
With the hand of my anger,
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
#grief
#dark
#heaven
#emptiness
#RabindranathTagore
553 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Rabindranath Tagore Published by Members Recently Online
#RabindranathTagore is curated by Ahavati (Tams).
