In some sense, it could be argued a category about Life is a vague, nebulous cop-out. Any poem ever penned by Man or Woman would surely gain ready admittance here. All poems, almost by definition, are about Life.
But don't, for a moment, think that makes this category any less important. On the contrary, if the poems and topics you are about to explore are about Life, then they are also about you.
No one person can ever experience all that life has to offer. It is only through sharing - experiences, feelings, insights - that we can hope to grow beyond our own meager lifetime. Are you ready to grow today?
Let the countdown begin
Friday, 22 June 2012
1900 poem
I Speak Not
by Lord Byron -- (1788-1824)
I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name;
There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame;
But the tear that now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace,
Were those hours - can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain, -
We will part, we will fly to - unite it again!
Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!
Forgive me, adored one! - forsake if thou wilt;
But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased,
And man shall not break it - whatever thou may'st.
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee,
This soul in its bitterest blackness shall be;
And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet,
With thee at my side, than with worlds at our feet.
One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love,
Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove.
And the heartless may wonder at all I resign -
Thy lips shall reply, not to them, but to mine.
by Lord Byron -- (1788-1824)
I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name;
There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame;
But the tear that now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace,
Were those hours - can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain, -
We will part, we will fly to - unite it again!
Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!
Forgive me, adored one! - forsake if thou wilt;
But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased,
And man shall not break it - whatever thou may'st.
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee,
This soul in its bitterest blackness shall be;
And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet,
With thee at my side, than with worlds at our feet.
One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love,
Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove.
And the heartless may wonder at all I resign -
Thy lips shall reply, not to them, but to mine.
Wednesday, 13 June 2012
Wild Animals
When you look at wild animals
they are breathtaking,
so pure and natural.
If the animal looks you in the eyes
you can feel connected.
If the animal walks up to you
takes food from your hand,
you can feel trust.
When the animal keeps returning
for food,
you can feel needed.
By mistake
you take the animal home,
you can feel complete.
Time goes on
you look into the animals eyes,
you can feel sadness.
Knowing that
you have to return the animal to the wild,
you can feel loss.
When you let the animal go,
it runs!
they are breathtaking,
so pure and natural.
If the animal looks you in the eyes
you can feel connected.
If the animal walks up to you
takes food from your hand,
you can feel trust.
When the animal keeps returning
for food,
you can feel needed.
By mistake
you take the animal home,
you can feel complete.
Time goes on
you look into the animals eyes,
you can feel sadness.
Knowing that
you have to return the animal to the wild,
you can feel loss.
When you let the animal go,
it runs!
Jenna Thomas
funny... but not
it's funny how hello is always accompanied with goodbye
it's funny how good memories can start to make you cry
it's funny how forever never seems to last
it's funny how much you'd lose if you forgot about your past
it's funny how “friends” can just leave when you are down
it's funny how when you need someone they never are around
it's funny how people change and think they're so much better
it's funny how many lies are packed into one “love letter”
it's funny how one night can contain so much regret
it's funny how you can forgive but not forget
it's funny how ironic life turns out to be
but the funniest part of all, is none of thats funny to me
it's funny how good memories can start to make you cry
it's funny how forever never seems to last
it's funny how much you'd lose if you forgot about your past
it's funny how “friends” can just leave when you are down
it's funny how when you need someone they never are around
it's funny how people change and think they're so much better
it's funny how many lies are packed into one “love letter”
it's funny how one night can contain so much regret
it's funny how you can forgive but not forget
it's funny how ironic life turns out to be
but the funniest part of all, is none of thats funny to me
arianna loshnowsky
The Call of Home
A river of tears cannot cleanse
The unseen wound which does not heal
There are more than battlefield shells
So many human shells return home
To the family never to be the same
Children once had a dad to turn to
Now he’s an island with a barrier reef
And she searches and searches in disbelief
She knows he’s in there somewhere
But she cannot find the path
She doesn’t know it’s a one way street
It’s his choice if they are ever to meet
In the land of trust where love is all around
When his spirit’s journey is homeward bound
It’s a long road to travel with many pitfalls
But when he stumbles her heart hears his calls
No company for him he must travel alone
But the family’s love is the beacon guiding him home
Home is where the spirit longs to be
Surrounded by love then it can be free
The unseen wound which does not heal
There are more than battlefield shells
So many human shells return home
To the family never to be the same
Children once had a dad to turn to
Now he’s an island with a barrier reef
And she searches and searches in disbelief
She knows he’s in there somewhere
But she cannot find the path
She doesn’t know it’s a one way street
It’s his choice if they are ever to meet
In the land of trust where love is all around
When his spirit’s journey is homeward bound
It’s a long road to travel with many pitfalls
But when he stumbles her heart hears his calls
No company for him he must travel alone
But the family’s love is the beacon guiding him home
Home is where the spirit longs to be
Surrounded by love then it can be free
A HEART OF STONE
Author: Beckie M.
Once I had a heart of stone For it had surley lost its home It could not love or wanted too But in my life, then came you. The stones began to fall away As happiness began to fill my day A feeling so sweet and special too Could this be love, I pray is true. My heart now sings a song of love For I know that it was sent from above My heart is warm, there is no cold Hard no more, but with wings of gold. It soars above the sky so high Sometimes I think of why and cry My heart now sings a loving song For the part of me I thought was gone. The gift that you have given me Is so important, can't you see No more sadness or being alone For now my heart returns to home.
| How to Torture Your Teacher | ||
by Bruce Lansky |
| Only raise your hand when you want to sharpen your pencil or go to the bathroom. Repeat every ten minutes. Never raise your hand when you want to answer a question; instead, yell, "Oooh! Oooh! Oooh!" and then, when the teacher calls on you, say, "I forgot what I was going to say." Lean your chair back, take off your shoes, and put your feet up on your desk. Act surprised when the teacher puts all four legs of your chair back on the floor. Drop the eraser end of your pencil on your desk. See how high it will bounce. Drop your books on the floor. See how loud a noise you can make. Hum. Get all your friends to join in. Hold your nose, make a face, and say, "P.U.!" Fan the air away from your face, and point to the kid in front of you. On the last day of school, lead your classmates in chanting: "No more pencils! No more books! No more teachers’ dirty looks!" Then, on your way out the door, tell the teacher, "Bet you’re looking forward to summer vacation this year. But I’ll sure miss you. You’re the best teacher I’ve ever had." |
Tuesday, 12 June 2012
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