41. The Legacy Of My Words
My words are like my heart beat.
They tell the world that I'm alive.
They recite the tale of who I am
And of all I have survived.
My words are like my heart beat.
They tell the world that I'm alive.
They recite the tale of who I am
And of all I have survived.
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I am a lost traveler like a million others
Having no destination and no direction
With rocky road and no companion
And still I wander and wonder
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It’s difficult to take in the entirety of something
when you are standing inside of it.
Valleys are best seen from peaks.
Mountains from their bases.
One should always keep an open mind when viewing the world around them, and what you say in your beautiful poem is so true, and other people often can see our inner beauty before we do. That...
It's not so easy....
Anyone can spot others' flaws.
It's easy, like a blink of the eyes.
Fleeting eternity
surrounds the mountaintop,
nestled in a lush green valley
time forgot.
I wake up each day
On this journey of mine,
Grabbing each moment
Of my limited time.
Miss Fleming: I was looking at a poem I wrote, SWEET THINGS FOR YOUR EAR, and I saw you left me a wonderful review. We seem to have the same outlook on life. I look back on my life a lot. I...
We can all live and just be
Who we are meant to be in life.
Allowing love to set us free,
Rather than giving into strife.
It's unbranded and unclaimed,
Elusive and in vain.
It ebbs and it flows,
Wishing away as it goes.
Crystal, really enjoyed the thoughtfulness of this poem. Gave me much to consider about time. Great job! Brought to mind a silly thought I once had: "Can the hands of a clock grasp the...
Hell is other people.
-Jean-Paul Sartre
Hell is other people who
That's so true. I am from somewhere where flat girls are considered beautiful. My friends often make fun of me because I am not flat like them, and it often makes me cry, but now I'm used to...
You are the only one
who can save you
no one else can
do it for you
It’s the little things
isn’t it
that mean more than anything
and the simple pleasures
I watch the hands on the clock tick by
And I wonder where time goes.
Will this be the year to end all years?
Well, only God can know.
Excellent poem, as always. Keep writing...
Very best wishes,
Ann
Your springtime has gone.
Your summers have passed.
Autumn's now waving goodbye.
"I"n this moment, my heart is open.
"N"ever before have I felt such powerful emotion.
It is "N"ow that I realize the true meaning of living.
It is for being loved, loving, "A"nd also forgiving.
I can't prevent attitudes
from knocking upon my door,
but I decide which to let in
and which ones to ignore.
Why do we begin if we don't plan to finish?
Why do we love if we don't want to get hurt?
Why do we live if someday we must die?
Why do we smile if we really hurt inside?
Most of the answers to this poem in my eyes would be hope.
If this day is my last,
I will be rejoicing,
Reminiscing my memories since my life came to being.
I will spend this day only by praying
The future is too far away to dream of.
The past is too far behind to dwell on.
The world is too big to go unnoticed.
Nature is too beautiful to be passed by.
There is no reason to feel troubled
if your path has not been made clear to you yet.
When you remain true to your spirit,
courageous in action,
I hate people who’ve hurt me
so you’ll never hear me say
I must love them harder.
I know that