Deep And Meaningful Poems Novels & Stories

Encouraging them to keep the faith in God and also in family. After that, it was time for me to give the speech I'd spent hours preparing. I once again climbed the pulpit and started with a poem by Chinonso Chime titled "Immortal"; Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I did not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush,

It was old even then but I had kept it through the years, never once bringing myself to read from it. Lost and Found A sunken chest on the ocean ground to never be found was where he found me. There he stirred my every thought my every word so gently, so profoundly Now I am kept from my dreams I dreamt from once I slept so soundly -Lang Leav Dad always said poetry held many meanings, conveyed many emotions and faces. You could never read poetry at face value, you had to delve deeper. I struggled with delving deep, gaining hidden meanings. It was a reflection on how I viewed the world. You often didn't have to dive deep with people, their true self sat right on the surface. The only thing hol

Not as kids you'd like to insult or punish for not knowing Behind every poem lies a story and a great take on the challenges Life offers the Poet. Through his poems he shall speak of truth and hope. In every magnum opus is a deep never-ending well of doubts, curiosity, fear and mission to be heard and seen. If you must write a poem, you must always take it easy, feel the atmosphere before you go ahead. If you are reading one now, I hope you could find answers beneath your questions, answered wishes and a person to talk to.

As I take a moment to contemplate and look back on the various experiences I have had in my life, I am overwhelmed by a deep and intense feeling of longing that permeates my heart. This yearning is a powerful and profound emotion that resonates within me, urging me to seek something more, something beyond what I have already encountered. It is a sentiment that goes beyond mere desire or longing for material possessions, but rather a yearning for a deeper meaning, purpose, or connection in life. This feeling is both captivating and poignant, as it stirs within me a strong desire to explore and discover what lies beyond I often experience a deep yearning for her company, desiring her to be phy

Tere Dil mein thikana rahe Umra bhar (as long as I live, may my abode always be in your heart) Phir Kisi aashiyaane ki parvaah nahin (and I will never care for any dwelling) ae meri zindagi tuu mere saath hai (oh, my life, you are with me;) tuu khudaa hai mera mera imaan hai (you are my god; you are my creed) ishq karna tera mujhpe ehasaan hai (your love is a favor done unto me) tu subah ka ujaalaa mere vaaste (for me, you are the break of morning) tuu mere vaaste dilnashin shaam hai (you, for me, are the enchanted evening) Tere Dil mein thikaana rahe umr bhar (as long as I live, may my abode always be in your heart) Phir Kisi aashiyaane ki parvaah nahin (and I will never care for any dwelli

The butterflies danced in her stomach, making her so bothered and need for more but suppressed and start with the poem; "In the depths of ocean, where everything defies the law of motion, is where I have placed my emotions, in hopes that the wave will carry it's commotion. And now I am free from the ability to feel From the ability to be hurt so deep So I watch as the waves help me heal. Because if I carried my emotions I would simply breakdown and to the depths of the sea I would drown." She smiled even though she's not facing him, he could feel it. She's proud of what she created and have it memorised in her head. The poem is deep but very beautiful to his ears especially as she read it ou

Her work at the local bookstore, once a mundane routine, now felt infused with a sense of meaning. She found herself drawn to the poetry section, her fingers tracing the spines of books she had never explored before. She discovered the delicate beauty of Emily Dickinson's words, the raw emotion of Sylvia Plath's verse, and the lyrical prose of Langston Hughes. Each poem, a window into a different soul, resonated with her own experiences, her own struggles and triumphs.

I said. "It smells right," she said. I smiled at the phone in the apartment that also smelled right. "Get some sleep," I said. "I will," she said. "Goodnight." "Goodnight baby." I put the phone down and sat in the quiet of the apartment and thought about a second July and what it contained that the first one had not. Depth. That was the word. Everything the same and everything deeper. The florist and Elena and the life and the love and the five year old who watered the plant that needed it and watched what the old tree did with the evening light and called to report and said it smells right.

“You want to be stronger,” the deep voice rung in everyone's ear. From the one at the deepest of the sea, drowning, to the one in the state of deep slumber, gaming, the voice vibrated through the deepest of their system. “Stood high and I'll grant the wishes in the deepest of your soul!”

Though the storm rocks our boats and the gentle wind eases our rows, our peace still ebbs and flows, because until our eyes are fixed beyond the sun, our nostrils will know less roses than our skin the thorns. In a of white and black world, let's be just enough to repel these filthy shades of grey. Karma is a poet, so please the arms that make you less a prey, because until our eyes are fixed beyond the sun, our nostrils will know less roses than our skin the thorns. So let us milk the cow while it is still dawn, for the night comes, when only the diligent will be able to admire the milk he weighed. Even if the sun rises on our evening wake, time will surely set on our wasted years, then our