INSPIRATIONAL
POEMS
"Be
Mine"
"Be
Mine" the words said
Written in the most beautiful
shade of red.
Never
before had her eyes beheld
Nor, in the depths of her
heart, had she felt
This kind of feeling before.
She wanted to know more.
She read on quickly with
excitement
And in amazement her soul
leapt.
As the words made it all
so clear,
The very thing she needed
to hear.
"I
love you more than life,
My Dear, and in My love
there is no fear.
You see, it was for this
Holy love
That I gave My life and
shed My blood.
I've given freely, to you,
this treasure,
This gift which is beyond
measure."
Could
it be true, her eyes opened
wide.
For it was at that moment
she realized
The emptiness she had felt
inside
Would now be wholly, completely
satisfied.
With
this love, offered without
cost.
It was true. She had been
lost.
"There is only one
thing I must ask of you."
"What is it?"
she asked. "Anything
I will do."
"Be
Mine and only Mine, you
must give Me your life,
It's kind of like becoming
My wife.
You'll be My bride and I
will come back for you.
And I want you to be ready
in all that you do."
Her
answer was "Yes"
and in those words,
The angels singing in heaven
could be heard.
"Be Mine" the
words said with sacrificial
love
Written and sealed in her
Savior's blood.
Take Time...
Take time to think;
it is the source of power.
Take time to read;
it is the foundation of
wisdom.
Take time to play;
it is the secret of staying
young.
Take time to be quiet;
it is the opportunity to
seek God.
Take time to be aware;
it is the opportunity to
help others.
Take time to love and be
loved;
it is God's greatest gift.
Take time to laugh;
it is the music of the soul.
Take time to be friendly;
it is the road to happiness.
Take time to dream;
it is what the future is
made of.
Take time to pray;
it is the greatest power
on earth.
I May, I Might, I Must
Marianne Moore
If
you will tell me why the
fen
appears impassable, I then
will tell you why I think
that I
can get across it if I try.
Happy Thought
Robert Louis Stevenson
The
world is so full of a number
of things,
I'm sure we should all be
as happy as kings
The Road Not Taken
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.
Ulysses
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
. . .
I cannot rest from travel:
I will drink
Life to the lees; all times
I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly,
both with those
That loved me, and alone;
. . .
I am a part of all that
I have met;
Yet all experience is an
arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled
world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when
I move.
How dull it is to pause,
to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not
to shine in use!
As though to breathe were
life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, . .
.
And this grey spirit yearning
in desire
To follow knowledge like
a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound
of human thought.
. . .
The lights begin to twinkle
from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the
slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices.
Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek
a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well
in order smite
The sounding furrows; for
my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset,
and the baths
Of all the western stars,
until I die.
It may be that the gulfs
will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch
the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles,
whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much
abides; and though
We are not now that strength
which in old days
Moved earth and heaven;
that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic
hearts,
Made weak by time and fate,
but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find,
and not to yield.
Question's Poetry
Poetry;
what does it mean?
Story;
that's what it tells.
Poetry;
What is it's purpose?
Meanings;
to laugh, to cry, to love,to
hate.
Poetry;
Is it for certain people
No;
It is for all who wish to
obtain it.
Poetry;
Does it have to be long?
Depends;
if your intentions are that.
POETRY:
it's for the world to take.
Down by Memory Lake
Sean Fleming (Reader's Contest
Entry)
Down
by Memory Lake
Many Vacations I'd often
take
The memories, they are coming
back to me
I remember this lake but
not the sea
Swimming
along the waves are crashing
I remember the days of childish
splashing
Remember the days down by
the dock
I never bothered to watch
the clock
Remember
the days of summer boating
Memories of my body floating
All those days under the
hot sun,
But not caring because I
had such fun
All
those days with old friends
We all hoped that our summer
would never end
I was in bliss
It was my first kiss
Now
here I am at Memory Lake
And now my grandchildren
I take
The water as I remember
Soon the month will be September
Down by Memory Lake
Up-Hill
Christina Georgina Rossetti
Does
the road wind up-hill all
the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take
the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But
is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark
hours begin.
May not the darkness hide
it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall
I meet other wayfarers at
night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call
when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing
at that door.
Shall
I find comfort, travel-sore
and weak?
Of labour you shall find the
sum.
Will there be beds for me
and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
Invictus
William Ernest Henley
Out
of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole
to pole,
I thank whatever gods may
be
For my unconquerable soul.
In
the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried
aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of
chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond
this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the
shade,
And yet the menace of the
years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It
matters not how strait the
gate
How charged with punishment
the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
When I Have Fears That
I May Cease To Be
John Keats
When
I have fears that I may cease
to be
Before my pen has gleaned
my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in
charactry,
Hold like rich garners the
full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's
starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high
romance,
And think that I may never
live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic
hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature
of an hour!
That
I shall never look upon thee
more,
Never have relish in the faery
power
Of unreflecting love;--then
on the shore
Of the wide world I stand
alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness
do sink.
If--
Rudyard Kipling
If
you can keep your head when
all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming
it on you;
If you can trust yourself
when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their
doubting too;
If you can wait and not be
tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't
deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give
way to hating,
And yet don't look too good,
nor talk too wise;
* * *
If you can dream--and not
make dreams your master;
If you can think--and not
make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph
and disaster
And treat those two impostors
just the same;
If you can bear to hear the
truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make
a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave
your life to broken,
And stoop and build'em up
with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of
all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of
pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again
at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about
your loss;
If you can force your heart
and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after
they are gone,
And so hold on when there
is nothing in you
Except the Will which says
to them: "Hold on";
* * *
If you can talk with crowds
and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose
the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving
friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you,
but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving
minute
With sixty seconds' worth
of distance run--
Yours is the Earth and everything
that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll
be a Man, my son!
Ode on Solitude
Alexander Pope
Happy
the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native
air,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose
fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with
attire,
Whose trees in summer yield
him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcern'dly
find
Hours, days, and years slide
soft away,
In health of body, peace of
mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study
and ease,
Together mixt; sweet recreation;
And innocence, which most
does please
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen,
unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and
not a stone
Tell where I lie.
Poet's Harvest
Sarah Hamilton (Reader's Contest
Entry)
The
land is fertile, so plant
the seeds,
Hoe the thoughts, and pull
the weeds
Pick the words, they're golden
brown,
Bundle them up and send them
to town
To bring a smile to an unfamiliar
face
But whatever you do, don't
let them waste
Because thoughts and words
are priceless
treasures planted
in your head
Black Woman
David Jones (Reader's Contest
Entry)
Mother
to us all Goddess of the universe
Thank you, for being there.
Your strength has allowed
us to survive the torment,
That we as black men have
had to endure.
Your fortitude through the
torture and rape of our people,
Has kept us from the systematic
annihilation, brutal beatings
&
Killings that are undoubtedly
a part of their scheme.
For every one of us that have
they have taken
you've given back two-fold.
Black Woman your strength
will keep us around for
Millions of years to come.
I salute you, your pride,
your beauty
You--I cherish your very being.
Thank you
Who Stole the Laughter
Angela Medaugh (Reader's Contest
Entry)
Who
stole the laughter?
Who stole the song?
Who reaped the souls of those,
Whose joy o' prolong?
I
am but one a nimble,
A star away an eye.
You stole the pinkish of my
cheeks,
Leave my emotions dry.
I
tire but can not sleep,
Neither manor nor in woe.
Though straight a face I have
but kept,
I can?t keep the tears doth
flow.
So
tuck your babes in slumber,
And bid them "Ye nay
shy".
For only in their fairy dreams,
They grow wings to spread
and fly.
Dawn Painter
Charlotte Partin
God
boldly dips
His fingertips
in Sunset's pot of dye.
Night
erases
twilight traces
before His hands can dry.
He
roughly wipes
those rosey stripes
onto the paintrag sky.
Ironies
Ayesha Dayakar
There
are times when I don't want
to do anything and doing nothing
is what I do?.
At times I cry so hard that
I start to laugh?
When the wind is still I can
hear the breeze blowing?
Within the motive of war the
agenda is usually peace ?.
Are strangers really strange
when they become friends?.
We fight like cats and dogs,
do dogs and cats fight like
we do??..
When we are late, we are actually
on the time required?
If there's space, closeness
will come too?.
Dark is gently straining for
light and the light takes
away the dark.
Aquarium
Ben Barton (Reader's Contest
Entry)
Sunk in the depths
Colours glimmer from the glass
Fish; the tank their stage.
Angel
Rebecca Vendetti (Reader's
Contest Entry)
I am an earthbound angel,
sent here just for you.
To keep you out of danger
through all the things you
do.
I will be here by your side,
through good times and through
bad.
I will never leave you lonely,
I won't let them leave you
sad.
I am your gardian angel,
I'll take good care of you.
For I'm the only one who knows
that you're someone's angel
too.
Generation X
Dotty Waters (Reader's Contest
Entry--First Place)
The
children are dying, but you
can't be made to see
The way that all this violence
isn't hurting you, but me.
Mama's smokin' blunts, Daddy's
out the door,
How long it take to realize
he ain't comin' back no more?
My friends' in a gang, smokin'
weed, gettin high,
Whatever they been doin, I
been thinkin, "Why can't
I?'
Four hours after school, at
home, all alone,
Free to walk the streets,
acting like I'm grown.
Look at the world through
my eyes and you'll see
The way it looks like everybody's
gettin' laid but me.
When I go out on a date I
go too far cause it's "da
bomb."
You say it's my fault, but
how do I know right from wrong?
You close your eyes, so you
just can't see
The kind of choices that we
make irresponsibly.
You say we're foolish, but
we don't know what to do.
This is Generation X, from
us to you
The Youth of Today
Charlotte Partin (Reader's
Contest Entry)
The
Youth of today
are something to see...
Their hearts are young,
their spirits, free.
They
are not stooped over
by worry and care,
they don't judge others
by the length of their hair!
They
don't have ulcers
nor do they turn grey.
The heck with Tomorrow
(They live for Today.)
They
Youth of today,
oh what will they be?
I only wish
that they were me!
Life
James Harrison (Sho-roc) (Reader's
Contest Entry)
Circumstances,
Love, Heartache, Failure or
Success
Are all a part of the broad
Spectrum
in our everyday routine
that we call life.
At times it may be unbearable
but hold on.
At times it may feel as though
you are walking on air
stay grounded.
Note: Because when you think
you are in control
you may be out of control.
Life is at best an ongoing
learning process
from conception to the coffin.
Just a short walk in a strange
place
I Saw Peace Clearly
McKenzie Burris (Reader's
Contest Entry)
I
saw peace clearly.
He was strong, built, and
muscular.
He turned and glided swiftly
along.
I saw his big gracious heart
and his loving, soft blue
eyes.
And I heard him speak softly
and convincingly.
And I felt safe.
I Don't Know Why the Caged
Bird Sings
Marlo Parker (Reader's Contest
Entry--First Place)
I
don?t know why the caged bird
sings
but I?m privy to the knowledge
of many other things.
I
know why
the abused child cries
the cancer victim dies
the manic depressive just
can?t cope
the praying lady just lost
hope
the molested boy turns to
drugs
the inner city youth turn
to thugs
Yet,
not one clue why the caged
bird sings.
I
know why
the old and unwanted lose
their will
the mad and frustrated sometimes
kill
the prisons of war can?t run
or hide
the misunderstood commit suicide
the broken hearted love no
more
the single mother became a
whore
Still
not one clue why the caged
bird sings.
I
know why
the incest victim lost her
mind
the KKK don?t like my kind
the widower is always weeping
the vietnam vet has trouble
sleeping
the alcoholic still has a
drink
the weak minded never stop
to think
And
still no clue why the caged
bird sings.
I
know why
the unemployed just don?t
bother
the young boy cries for his
father
the under achiever won?t reach
their goal
the prostitute sell her soul
the inhumanity will never
cease
and only the dead are finally
at peace.
I
don?t know why the caged bird
sings
but I?m privy to the knowledge
of many other things.
Life
Stephanie Pettee (Reader's
Contest Entry)
L
ive it to the fullest.
I n every single way.
F ufill your dreams and
goals. And smile
E veryday
IF . . .
Jacqueline Winfield (Reader's
Contest Entry)
If
you can face the changing
world,
with courage and with trust;
if you can overcome all doubt,
and do the things you must;
if you can cling to your own
dreams,
believing they?re worthwhile;
if you can weather passing
storms,
and never lose your smile;
if you can give as well as
take,
and hold your head up high;
if you can keep the joy of
youth,
from ever running dry;
if you can open up your heart,
with love that long endures;
then peace and all of life?s
sweet gifts,
will happily be yours.
Mission Statement
Scott Ricky (Reader's Contest
Entry)
Our
mission here is very clear,
Look at these people they
live in fear.
To serve and protect against
all nations,
Even under the NATO sanction.
Satan is at work all over
this land,
God has sent us to lend a
helping hand.
Some of us man checkpoints,
some the gates.
Others sit in the TOC while
we all wait
Waiting to see what the next
will be.
And how it will affect guys
like you and me.
After seven months of this
stuff
We will say we?ve had enough.
The next guys will come down,
We?ll let them have their
round.
We will return back to our
station,
In another country, another
nation.
Back to our families and our
homes,
All of which have always known.
To serve and protect was our
mission here,
All of it now seems very clear
Long and Lonely Road
Christina Ragsdale (Reader's
Contest Entry)
On
the long and lonely road in
pursuit of happiness
We encounter bumps along the
way
Should we stand and fight...
Or turn and run away?
Happiness
could be an illusion
That we all somehow create
Something that we hope
Will someday make life great
Happiness
COULD be real
A light to find our way
But hurt is what I feel
And I have lost my faith
When
things are so wrong
And I am broken down
How can I believe
In something never found?
Life of a Truck Driver
Debbie Jo Ramsey (Reader's
Contest Entry)
Most
do not understand
The life of a Truck Driver
Once in their blood
It?s usually there forever
They
stay on the road
Always on the go
Where they end up
Only their dispatcher knows
Their
family waits patiently
For their safe return home
To see how much their child
Or grandchild has grown
They
deliver your loads
With a smile that glows
Then they?re off again
Down the road they go
They
travel all hours
Of the day and night
Making sure your happy
And everything?s just right
So
the next time your paths
Should happen to cross
Tell a Truck Driver
?You are the Boss?
Different Eyes Than Most
Michael Cubert (Reader's Contest
Entry)
Feeling
the breeze upon my face
I sit and ponder why
The visions spread before
my sight
One can see the beauty
While others see only the
beast . . .
The
beast is the easiest to see
The tired, the hungry or the
poor
The dirt, hurt or the ravished
land
Depends upon where one just
stands
On how the heart can digest
what is seen . . .
As
a society
We are accustomed to the beast
More newsworthy items
Or so some thing . . .
Hard
for me to understand why
The ugliness gets the attention
And the Beauty remains extinct.
The Beauty is harder for one
to see
For there is a tree
Instead of the dead branches
and leaves . . .
And
there is Heart in the eyes,
Instead of the mud and tears
on the face
For the Beauty
One must look deeper
Seeing the soul and spirit
beneath.
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