22 Deep Poems

There is something special about writing or reading poems with deeper meanings. They make you think, make you discover new things about yourself, and allow you to be more creative. This list of poems we compiled will not only make you think for days but will touch your heart and soul too. Happy reading!

Deep Poems


1. The Sun


The sun, of fire and beauty

Destruction and life.

Something so magnificent,

You can’t even look at it.


My son, of fire and passion

Life, until death.

Something so magnificent,

You can’t look away.


Maybe we don’t look at the sun,

Because we are afraid that we

Might not be able to let go

Of the beauty, that might just end up,

Destroying us.


2. My Credo Of Life

By: Pat A. Fleming


Let me live within the moment.

Let me feel all that I can.

Let me cherish life for all it’s worth,

With everything I am.


Let me see what’s right in front of me,

With vision crystal clear.

And face what’s waiting there for me,

With no hesitance or fear.


May I wake each day with gratitude,

For all my life may be.

And always feel that wonderment

At the world surrounding me.


May I welcome any strangers

With an open heart and mind.

And always stand for what is right

With all the strength that I can find.


Let me forgive myself for my mistakes,

While forgiving others theirs.

And never grow indifferent

But always strive to care.


Let me not forget what matters

In the scheme of every day,

To live each precious moment

In a kind and loving way.


For this moment now is everything,

Nothing matters but today.

So I’ll willingly embrace it

And not let it slip away.


For it passes all so quickly,

And one chance is all we get.

And a life of wasted moments

Is a life filled with regrets.


3. It’s Fine Today

By: Douglas Malloch  


Sure, this world is full of trouble

I ain’t said it ain’t.

Lord, I’ve had enough and double

Reason for complaint,

Rain and storm have come to fret me,

Skies are often gray,

Thorns and brambles have beset me

On the road but say,

Ain’t it fine today?


What’s the use of always weepin’,

Making trouble last?

What’s the use of always keepin’

Thinkin’ of the past?

Each must have his tribulation

Water with his wine,

Life, it ain’t no celebration,

Trouble? I’ve had mine

But today is fine.


It’s today that I am livin’,

Not a month ago.

Havin’, osin’, takin’, givin’,

As time wills it so.

Yesterday a cloud of sorrow

Fell across the way,

It may rain again tomorrow,

It may rain but say,

Ain’t it fine today?


4. What Life Should Be

By: Pat A. Fleming


To learn while still a child

What this life is meant to be.

To know it goes beyond myself,

It’s so much more than me.


To overcome the tragedies,

To survive the hardest times.

To face those moments filled with pain,

And still manage to be kind.


To fight for those who can’t themselves,

To always share my light.

With those who wander in the dark,

To love with all my might.


To still stand up with courage,

Though standing on my own.

To still get up and face each day,

Even when I feel alone.


To try to understand the ones

That no one cares to know.

And make them feel some value

When the world has let them go.


To be an anchor, strong and true,

That person loyal to the end.

To be a constant source of hope

To my family and my friends.


To live a life of decency,

To share my heart and soul.

To always say I’m sorry

When I’ve harmed both friend and foe.


To be proud of whom I’ve tried to be,

And this life I chose to live.

To make the most of every day

By giving all I have to give.


To me that’s what this life should be,

To me that’s what it’s for.

To take what God has given me

And make it so much more


To live a life that matters,

To be someone of great worth.

To love and be loved in return

And make my mark on Earth.


5. Remember

By: Dawn Jensen


As I walk through life,

I look at all I have done.

I had wandered aimlessly,

And wondered what I have become.


I have been through so much.

It is amazing I made it through.

Lessons I have learned.

I am shocked I pulled through.


At times I wondered

What life was all about.

The trials experienced in life

Can make all the good come out.


We try to make it day by day,

Remembering what we were taught.

Just remember some time to pray.

It is important;

We need it every day.


Life can be short,

Unexpected at that.

We try to take its punches,

Just hoping it won’t break our back.


Remember who you are,

Who you want to become.

Everything will fall into place,

When the time comes.


Don’t forget I love you’s

Every chance you get.

The time may be short.

There is no time to regret.


Life can be exciting,

As we all have found out,

Eventful, even busy.

There is no time to be left out.


Remember who you are

And who you want to become.

The time can be short.

Don’t leave things undone.


Remember your families,

They are the only ones you’ve got

To carry you in times of need.

They cannot be bought.


Remember they love you,

Either here or there.

They will always be with us,

Help for things to bear.


6. My Dream Girl

By: Deep Dark Soul Poet


Her eyes are so innocent, 

trusting with her heart, 

soft voice soothing you, 

honesty from the start. 


Movements like the wind, 

carry her in and out 

of varied moods of love and sadness, 

shown in lips that pout. 


Her body, sultry as it sways, 

towards her heart’s desire, 

fingers touch within a soul 

starting the endless fire. 


Smooth the passion she carries 

deeply hidden- in plain sight, 

a lady, warm in daylights glow, 

a poet through-out the night. 


So, if you see her singing soft, 

choose to stay, or go, 

but if you stay, your heart is lost, 

paradise you’ll always know. 

Deep Poems

7. Its Always Dark Here 

By: Deep Dark Soul Poet


It is always dark here, 

I stand here alone with the lights turned off, 

reaching for the existence that I want on my fingertips. 

I hear the voices through the darkness calling out to me 


I feel my whole body grow cold 


It is always dark here, 

in this room of perpetual fate. 

The all so loud bustle of the world outside 

barely touches the noise in my head. 

My thoughts are like a scar I keep rubbing, 

a reminder of things that shouldn’t be forgotten. 

Breathing cuts me from the inside out. 


It is always dark here, 

where dream and nightmare become part of a living world. 

My sighs reach out among wailing voices 

waiting for the touch of a lover who will never be. 


It is always dark here 

even with the sun in my eyes, I see the hidden lies 

drying tears that have yet to touch my cheeks. 

Shadow eats away at the place beneath where my body resides. 

I dream, scream and awake day after day. 

No matter where I go it is always the same- 


It is always dark here, 

I’m floating in a circle and in it there are knives, 

I’m crying in a whirlwind, except there are no skies. 

There’s blackness all around me, 

I cannot break it down. 

They wound me very deeply, though I will not make a sound. 


It is always dark here, 

There’s only darkness here, 

the sunshine goes away, 

but still I keep on waiting here, 

this is where I stay. 

This is where my heart is, 

wounded as it may be. 


It is always dark here, 

The darkness cannot touch me here, 

the darkness cannot see they’ve stolen my blue skies. 

I hope the sunshine saves the moon, 

it must tell me of its crime, 

waiting in the darkness here, 

the darkness tells no time 


8. Sinking

By: Deep Dark Soul Poet


Down in the water 

By the edge of the river 

where I ponder my life 

just how did I get to this 


Down in the water 

By the edge of the river 

where the waterfall of dreams 

sweeps away what’s left to the abyss 


Down in the water 

by the edge of the river 

where time stands still 

Just only forever. 


Down in the water 

by the edge of the river 

where I buried all 

that was ever childhood 


Where I let it go, 

where it bends and meanders, 

twisting along as the years went past. 

Seemingly calm, but screaming beneath the surface 

were its hidden whirlpools, a sweeping current 


Down in the water, 

I left the edge of the river, 

as I looked down 

for my soul at the bottom. 


Deep in the water 

Swept away by the river 


I drowned in life, 

sinking forever. 


9. Fifth Season

By: Deep Dark Soul Poet


The murky blues and fumes, 

When fresh air comes to blow these issues away

But the breath of fresh air crawls past me. 

I surrender to its awful implications. 


I wish I could appear stronger. 

I wish I could leave as a man. 

But I cannot say a word. 

Can not utter a single sound. 


I’m too much in love with misery. 

So to misery I travel again. 

Wish it wasn’t so. 

Wish it wasn’t me. 


Wish I could live but as it is, 

I cut my hair. 

I cut my nails. 

I cut my heart. 


Nothing bleeds. 

Nothing hurts. 

Nothing feels. 

Everything in me is like a breath 

of stale coffee. 

A touch of moulding cigarettes.


Summer comes and goes. 

Winter brings defeat. 

Spring is fresh flowers. 

Autumn is their death. 

Like me. 


I cry. 

I sleep. 

I die inside. 


10. Walk In The Dark

By: Deep Dark Soul Poet


Walk along with me into the darkness of the night

don’t leave me alone in such a lifeless town

everyone gone from what was beauty turned into invisible light

miles and miles we have come

here we are stopped under the only street light

please dance with me

we may never see home so hold me in your arms

let me cry upon your shoulder

keep me away from all the harm

this disease may have taken everyone we love

but I know some how

an angel will save us from the dark gray skies we see above

so the last minutes of our time we may have

lets hold against the sickness with all we have left to fight

as we dance away into the darkness of the night 

Deep Poems

11. My Sweet Darkness

By: Deep Dark Soul Poet


My sweet darkness invades my soul

Loving others and destroying me

Becoming the goal of the whole

She knocks me to my bloody knees


I am clean like the rickety old house

She must fulfil those nasty needs

I am willing to be the honourable louse

She ignores my living seeds


She has my honour and love

I own her nightly cries till morning comes

I would love her like a baby and a dove

In her eyes I stay in the slums


Her touch of corruption is never attained

My sadness is given no relief

The spirit is completely drained

My time here will be brief 


12. Eyes Of Darkness

By: Deep Dark Soul Poet


I peer into your windows 

The darkness of your eyes 

Lead me to your soul

A dark and entwined

Deep rooted heart

The envy of the world

A lot of pain locked up in there

And still you seem to smile 

A smile that could unlock a thousand doors

To happiness for others to find 

Deep Poems

13. Murky Black

By: Deep Dark Soul Poet


A murky blackness radiating 

from the depths of my mind.

From the shadows to the air, 

Together they entwine.


A greater evil of which, has never been known, 

Its presence sends a sensation far deeper then skin or bone.

Painful memories and suicidal thoughts erupt.

Even the most pure, shall become corrupt.


Many will be blinded by lies, for years to come.

The truth shall be seen by few, maybe even none.


Everything we know.

Everything we are.

Every time we bleed.

Every little scare.


False memories dance within my head.

I remember every tear, I ever shed 


Falling endlessly

through sudden darkness.

Light was perished

before my eyes.


Life and meaning are forgotten

in this lightless tide.

Love was vanquished, 

but not the memory.


Hope was destroyed, 

and with it, 

the light of the heart

was thrown into the shadows.


It’s like I was dying

I was seeing my life flashing 


14. The Road Not Taken

By: Robert Frost 


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence,

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Deep Poems

15. The New Colossus

By: Emma Lazarus


Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land.

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp, cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door.


16. Ozymandias

By: Percy Bysshe Shelley 


I met a traveler from an antique land

Who said, two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear.

‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings.

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair.

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Deep Poems

17. Ode on a Grecian Urn

By: John Keats


Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,

Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,

Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape

Of deities or mortals, or of both,

In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare

Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair.

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu.

And, happy melodist, unwearied,

For ever piping songs for ever new,

More happy love! more happy, happy love.

For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,

For ever panting, and for ever young,

All breathing human passion far above,

That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

To what green altar, O mysterious priest,

Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,

And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?

What little town by river or sea shore,

Or mountain built with peaceful citadel,

Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermore

Will silent be, and not a soul to tell

Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape, fair attitude, with brede

Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

With forest branches and the trodden weed,

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

As doth eternity, Cold Pastoral!

When old age shall this generation waste,

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,

Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.


19. The Tiger

By: William Blake 


Tiger Tiger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp,

Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears

And water’d heaven with their tears.

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,

In the forests of the night.

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?


19. On His Blindness

By: John Milton


When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent which is death to hide

Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide,

Doth God exact day labour, light denied.

I fondly ask. but patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need

Either man’s work or his own gifts, who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly, thousands at his bidding speed

And post o’er land and ocean without rest.

They also serve who only stand and wait.

Deep Poems

20. Daffodils

By: William Wordsworth


I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils,

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay.

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company.

I gazed and gazed but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.


21. Death, Be Not Proud

By: John Donne 


Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so

For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.


22. Sonnet 18

By: William Shakespeare


Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate,

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date,

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm’d,

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d, 

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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