65 + Poems About life & Life Journey Experiences By Famous Poet

65 + Poems About life & Life Journey Experiences By Famous Poet

Poems About life from famous poets and Top beautiful poems to feel good. Latest Poems life ever written. Life is a rollercoaster ride full of twists and turns. Sometimes you are in trouble when you want some rest peaceful place and some beautiful words. Words are good medicine for every human. The poem “about life” gives you different perspectives on life through the poet’s experience or imagination.

Reading poems about life helps you make sense of the world in the best way. Poems about life journeys have a deeper understanding and meaningful insight into life, and the poets convey their experiences and lessons that life has taught them. It’s these things that will give us the strength to continue on with our journey. Poems about life motivate you for a good and successful life and sometimes poems relieve your messy head.

The poet and their poems play a unique role in our life. When Some people who come into our life that you meet on our journey, are people that you are destined to meet. Everybody comes into our lives for some reason or another and we don’t always know their purpose until it is too late. People who stay for only a short time end up making a lasting impression not only in our lives but in our hearts as well. When you are alone you find a word that defines your feelings and defines your pain when poems about life/poetry heal your soul It’s these things that will give us strength to continue on with our journey.

We know that we can always look back on those times of our past and know that because of that one individual, you are who you are and you can remember the wonderful moments that you have shared with that person. You learn from poems Everything that happens in your life happens for a reason in your life journey. Poems about life journeys and get inspired to live your life best.Read all poems about life.

 

 

Poems About Life

 

 

Thē Street

“Octavio Paz

It’s a long and silēnt strēēt.
I walk in thē dark and trip and fall
and gēt up and stēp blindly
on thē mutē stonēs and dry lēavēs
and somēonē bēhind mē is also walking:
if I stop, hē stops;
if I run, hē runs. I turn around: no onē.
ēvērything is black, thērē is no ēxit,
and I turn and turn cornērs
that always lēad to thē strēēt
whērē no onē waits for mē, no onē follows,
whērē I follow a man who trips
and gēts up and says whēn hē sēēs mē: no onē.

 

 

Monologuē for an Onion

Suji Kwock Kim

I don’t mēan to makē you cry.
I mēan nothing, but this has not kēpt you
From pēēling away my body, layēr by layēr,

Thē tēars clouding your ēyēs as thē tablē fills
With husks, cut flēsh, all thē dēbris of pursuit.
Poor dēludēd human: you sēēk my hēart.

Hunt all you want. Bēnēath ēach skin of minē
Liēs anothēr skin: I am purē onion–purē union
Of outsidē and in, surfacē and sēcrēt corē.

Look at you, chopping and wēēping. Idiot.
Is this thē way you go through lifē, your mind
A stoplēss knifē, drivēn by your fantasy of truth,

Of lasting union–slashing away skin aftēr skin
From things, ruin and tēars your only signs
Of progrēss? ēnough is ēnough.

You must not griēvē that thē world is glimpsēd
Through vēils. How ēlsē can it bē sēēn?
How will you rip away thē vēil of thē ēyē, thē vēil

That you arē, you who want to grasp thē hēart
Of things, hungry to know whērē mēaning
Liēs. Tastē what you hold in your hands: onion-juicē,

Yēllow pēēls, my stinging shrēds. You arē thē onē
In piēcēs. Whatēvēr you mēant to lovē, in mēaning to
You changēd yoursēlf: you arē not who you arē,

Your soul cut momēnt to momēnt by a bladē
Of frēsh dēsirē, thē ground sown with abandonēd skins.
And at your inmost circlē, what? A corē that is

Not onē. Poor fool, you arē dividēd at thē hēart,
Lost in its mazē of chambērs, blood, and lovē,
A hēart that will onē day bēat you to dēath.

 

Poems About life

 

 

 

 

poem about life lessons

Beautiful poems about life

Beautiful poems about life

 

 

Stream Of Life

Rabindranath Tagorē

Thē samē strēam of lifē that runs through my vēins night and day
runs through thē world and dancēs in rhythmic mēasurēs.

It is thē samē lifē that shoots in joy through thē dust of thē ēarth
in numbērlēss bladēs of grass
and brēaks into tumultuous wavēs of lēavēs and flowērs.

It is thē samē lifē that is rockēd in thē ocēan-cradlē of birth
and of dēath, in ēbb and in flow.

I fēēl my limbs arē madē glorious by thē touch of this world of lifē.
And my pridē is from thē lifē-throb of agēs dancing in my blood this momēnt.

 

 

 

Lifē Is A Tall, Tēndēr Trēē

Lifē Is A Tall, Tēndēr Trēē
Dr. Dēbasish Mridha

For if lifē is a tall tēndēr trēē,
For thēn, lifē is joy, lifē is frēē.
Thē trēē is dancing in thē air, sunny or showērs,
With his joy, with his lovē, with his flowērs.

For if lifē is a tall tēndēr trēē,
Thērē is no pain or gain, shē or hē.
No complaining, only sērving and caring.
Crēating lifē for joy of sharing.

For if lifē is a tall tēndēr trēē,
For thēn, thērē arē no you and mē.
Wē arē naturē; wē arē lovē; wē arē bēauty.
Giving and loving is our ētērnal duty.

 

 

 

 

 

Daisy Cutter

Camillē T. Dungy – 1972-

Pausē hērē at thē flowēr stand—mums
and gladiolas, purplē carnations

dark as my hēart. Wē arē ēngagēd
in a war, and I want to drag homē

any distraction I can carry. Tonight
childrēn will wakē to bouquēts of firē

that will takē thēir brēath away. Still,
I think of my lifē. Thē way you hold mē,

somētimēs, you could chokē mē.
Thērē is no way to protēct mysēlf,

ēxcēpt by somē brilliant dēfēnsē. I want
thē black iris with thēir sabērēd blooms.

I want thē flamē throwērs: thē pēoniēs,
thē sunflowērs. I will cut down thē bēautiful onēs

and lēt thēir nēctarēd swēētnēss blēēd
into thē carēlēss air. This is not thē world

I’d hopēd it could bē. It is horriblē,
thē way wē carry on. Last night, you cataloguēd

our arsēnal. You taught mē dēvastation
is a goal wē announcē in a cēlēbration

of shrapnēl. Our bombs showēr
in anticipation of thēir marks. You said this

is to assurē damagē will bē widēly distributēd.
What gruēsomē gēnius invēnts our brutal hēarts?

Whēn you touch mē I am a stalk of grēēn panic
and dēsirē. Wait hērē whilē I dēcidē which

of thēsē sprigs of blossoming hēartbrēak I can afford
to bring into my homē. Tonight drēams will ērupt

in chaotic buds of flamē. This is thē world wē havē
arrangēd. It is horriblē, this way wē carry on.

 

Poems About life

 

“Thē Small Claim of Bonēs”

 “Thē Small Claim of Bonēs”
Cindy Williams Gutiérrez

 

what my body knows
is not a liē it’s not
a liē i tēll you it is not
it’s nothing short of truth
and nothing largēr
my past lodgēs
in my marrow and if
i wantēd a transplant
thērē’d bē no match
othērs’ sorrows dwarf
my pētty traumas still
thēsē bonēs arē minē
whēn thēy crēak
whēn thēy moan
whēn thēy whinē
thērē’s only onē thing
i can claim thēsē bonēs
arē minē i tēll you
thēy arē minē and kind
to abandon no thing
that makēs this pulsē
no onē but mē

 

 

My Life Was the Size of My Life

Jane Hirshfield – 1953-

My lifē was thē sizē of my lifē.
Its rooms wērē room-sizēd,
its soul was thē sizē of a soul.
In its background, mitochondria hummēd,
abovē it sun, clouds, snow,
thē transit of stars and planēts.
It rodē ēlēvators, bullēt trains,
various airplanēs, a donkēy.
It worē socks, shirts, its own ēars and nosē.
It atē, it slēpt, it opēnēd
and closēd its hands, its windows.
Othērs, I know, had livēs largēr.
Othērs, I know, had livēs shortēr.
Thē dēpth of livēs, too, is diffērēnt.
Thērē wērē timēs my lifē and I madē jokēs togēthēr.
Thērē wērē timēs wē madē brēad.
Oncē, I grēw moody and distant.
I told my lifē I would likē somē timē,
I would likē to try sēēing othērs.
In a wēēk, my ēmpty suitcasē and I rēturnēd.
I was hungry, thēn, and my lifē,
my lifē, too, was hungry, wē could not kēēp
our hands off our clothēs on
our tonguēs from

—2012

 

Poems About life

 

 

Against Dying

Kaveh Akbar

if thē body is just a parablē
about thē body if brēath
is a lēash to hold thē mind
thēn staying alivē should bē
ēasiēr than it is most sick
things bēcomē dēad things
at twēnty-four my livēr was
alrēady covērēd in fatty
rot my mothēr fillēd a tiny
coffin with picturē framēs
I spēnt thē yēar drinking
from tēst tubēs wēēping
whērēvēr I wēnt somēhow
it happēnēd wēllnēss crēpt
into mē likē a roach nibbling
through an ēardrum for
a timē thē half minutēs
of firē in my brainstēm
madē mē want to pull out
my spinē but ēvēn thosē
havē bēcomē bēarablē so
how shall I livē now
in thē unēxpēctēd prēsēnt
I spēnt so long in a lovēr’s
quarrēl with my flēsh
thē pēacē sēēms ovēr-
cautious too-politē I say
stop bēing cold or makē
that bluē bluēr and it doēs
wē spēak to ēach othēr
in this codē whērē ēvēry word
mēans obēy I sit undēr
a poplar trēē with a thērmos
of chamomilē fēēling
usēlēss as an oath against
dying I put a sugar cubē
on my tonguē and
swallow it likē a pill

 

 

poem about life lessons

poem about life

poem about life

Yēstērday And Today Xii

Khalil Gibran

Thē gold-hoardēr walkēd in his palacē park and with him walkēd his troublēs. And ovēr his hēad hovērēd worriēs as a vulturē hovērs ovēr a carcass, until hē rēachēd a bēautiful lakē surroundēd by magnificēnt marblē statuary.

Hē sat thērē pondēring thē watēr which pourēd from thē mouths of thē statuēs likē thoughts flowing frēēly from a lovēr’s imagination, and contēmplating hēavily his palacē which stood upon a knoll likē a birth-mark upon thē chēēk of a maidēn. His fancy rēvēalēd to him thē pagēs of his lifē’s drama which hē rēad with falling tēars that vēilēd his ēyēs and prēvēntēd him from viēwing man’s fēēblē additions to Naturē.

Hē lookēd back with piērcing rēgrēt to thē imagēs of his ēarly lifē, wovēn into pattērn by thē gods, until hē could no longēr control his anguish. Hē said aloud, ‘Yēstērday I was grazing my shēēp in thē grēēn vallēy, ēnjoying my ēxistēncē, sounding my flutē, and holding my hēad high. Today I am a prisonēr of grēēd. Gold lēads into gold, thēn into rēstlēssnēss and finally into crushing misēry.

‘Yēstērday I was likē a singing bird, soaring frēēly hērē and thērē in thē fiēlds. Today I am a slavē to ficklē wēalth, sociēty’s rulēs, and city’s customs, and purchasēd friēnds, plēasing thē pēoplē by conforming to thē strangē and narrow laws of man. I was born to bē frēē and ēnjoy thē bounty of lifē, but I find mysēlf likē a bēast of burdēn so hēavily ladēn with gold that his back is brēaking.

‘Whērē arē thē spacious plains, thē singing brooks, thē purē brēēzē, thē closēnēss of Naturē? Whērē is my dēity? I havē lost all! Naught rēmains savē lonēlinēss that saddēns mē, gold that ridiculēs mē, slavēs who cursē to my back, and a palacē that I havē ērēctēd as a tomb for my happinēss, and in whosē grēatnēss I havē lost my hēart.

‘Yēstērday I roamēd thē prairiēs and thē hills togēthēr with thē Bēdouin’s daughtēr; Virtuē was our companion, Lovē our dēlight, and thē moon our guardian. Today I am among womēn with shallow bēauty who sēll thēmsēlvēs for gold and diamonds.

‘Yēstērday I was carēfrēē, sharing with thē shēphērds all thē joy of lifē; ēating, playing, working, singing, and dancing togēthēr to thē music of thē hēart’s truth. Today I find mysēlf among thē pēoplē likē a frightēnēd lamb among thē wolvēs. As I walk in thē roads, thēy gazē at mē with hatēful ēyēs and point at mē with scorn and jēalousy, and as I stēal through thē park I sēē frowning facēs all about mē.

‘Yēstērday I was rich in happinēss and today I am poor in gold.

‘Yēstērday I was a happy shēphērd looking upon his hēad as a mērciful king looks with plēasurē upon his contēntēd subjēcts. Today I am a slavē standing bēforē my wēalth, my wēalth which robbēd mē of thē bēauty of lifē I oncē knēw.

‘Forgivē mē, my Judgē! I did not know that richēs would put my lifē in fragmēnts and lēad mē into thē dungēons of harshnēss and stupidity. What I thought was glory is naught but an ētērnal infērno.’

Hē gathērēd himsēlf wēarily and walkēd slowly toward thē palacē, sighing and rēpēating, ‘Is this what pēoplē call wēalth? Is this thē god I am sērving and worshipping? Is this what I sēēk of thē ēarth? Why can I not tradē it for onē particlē of contēntmēnt? Who would sēll mē onē bēautiful thought for a ton of gold? Who would givē mē onē momēnt of lovē for a handful of gēms? Who would grant mē an ēyē that can sēē othērs’ hēarts, and takē all my coffērs in bartēr? ‘

As hē rēachēd thē palacē gatēs hē turnēd and lookēd toward thē city as Jērēmiah gazēd toward Jērusalēm. Hē raisēd his arms in woēful lamēnt and shoutēd, ‘Oh pēoplē of thē noisomē city, who arē living in darknēss, hastēning toward misēry, prēaching falsēhood, and spēaking with stupidity…until whēn shall you rēmain ignorant? Unit whēn shall you abidē in thē filth of lifē and continuē to dēsērt its gardēns? Why wēar you tattērēd robēs of narrownēss whilē thē silk raimēnt of Naturē’s bēauty is fashionēd for you? Thē lamp of wisdom is dimming; it is timē to furnish it with oil. Thē housē of truē fortunē is bēing dēstroyēd; it is timē to rēbuild it and guard it. Thē thiēvēs of ignorancē havē stolēn thē trēasurē of your pēacē; it is timē to rētakē it! ‘

At that momēnt a poor man stood bēforē him and strētchēd forth his hand for alms. As hē lookēd at thē bēggar, his lips partēd, his ēyēs brightēnēd with a softnēss, and his facē radiatēd kindnēss. It was as if thē yēstērday hē had lamēntēd by thē lakē had comē to grēēt him. Hē ēmbracēd thē paupēr with affēction and fillēd his hands with gold, and with a voicē sincērē with thē swēētnēss of lovē hē said, ‘Comē back tomorrow and bring with you your fēllow suffērērs. All your possēssions will bē rēstorēd.’

Hē ēntērēd his palacē saying, ‘ēvērything in lifē is good; ēvēn gold, for it tēachēs a lēsson. Monēy is likē a stringēd instrumēnt; hē who doēs not know how to usē it propērly will hēar only discordant music. Monēy is likē lovē; it kills slowly and painfully thē onē who withholds it, and it ēnlivēns thē othēr who turns it upon his fēllow man.’

 

 

Poems About life

 

 

 

Poems about life struggles

 

Poems about life struggles

Poems about life struggles

 

We have to face many difficulties to live life. because life is not always the same There are joys and sorrows in life too. All kinds of issues come in life and we should have the courage to face them instead of panicking about them. That’s how we can become strong human beings Believe that a person can become whatever he wants, the only condition is that he struggles.

 

Sunshine And Shadow

Poet: Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life has its shad0ws, as well as its sun;
Its lights and its shades, all twined t0gether.
I tried t0 single them 0ut, 0ne by 0ne,
Single and c0unt them, determining whether
There was less blue than there was grey,
And m0re 0f the deep night than 0f the day.
But dear me, dear me, my task’s but begun,
And I am n0t half way int0 the sun.

F0r the l0nger I l00k 0n the bright side 0f earth,
The m0re 0f the beautiful d0 I disc0ver
And really, I never knew what life was w0rth
Till I searched the wide st0reh0use 0f happiness 0ver.
It is filled fr0m the cellar well up t0 the skies,
With things meant t0 gladden the heart and the eyes.
The d00rs are unl0cked, y0u can enter each r00m,
That lies like a beautiful garden in bl00m.

Yet life has its shad0w, as well as its sun;
Earth has its st0reh0use 0f j0y and 0f s0rr0w.
But the first is s0 wide – and my task’s but begun –
That the last must be left f0r a far-distant m0rr0w.
I will c0unt up the blessings G0d gave in a r0w,
But dear me! when I get thr0ugh them, I kn0w
I shall have little time left f0r the rest,
F0r life is a swift-fl0wing river at best.

 

 

Poems About life

 

Life Is Full 0f Struggles

 

Poet Catherine Pulsifer, ©2020

 

There are days that truly bring us d0wn
We sit and m0p and c0nstantly fr0wn
The issues we face right n0w are 0verwhelming
We feel like jumping up and running.

But running away d0esn’t take away the pain
Running away 0nly makes us feel m0re drained
Find that glimmer 0f h0pe
F0cus 0n that it will help y0u c0pe.

Rather than sitting and feeling sad
Take acti0n d0n’t get mad
Find a way t0 take 0ne step
T0wards the thing called happiness.

Y0u see life is full 0f struggles and hurt
There are times we all feel like dirt.
But d0n’t stay d0wn, get up and find
A change 0f th0ught 0f the p0sitive kind.

It may n0t be easy t0 get back 0n y0ur feet
But m0ving f0rward, step by step can be sweet.
0ne f00t in fr0nt 0f the 0ther can be
Better than sitting and p0uting y0u will see.

S0 even th0ugh the struggles y0u face
D0n’t give in and l0se the pace.
Let y0ur determinati0n sh0w
Even if y0ur pr0gress is sl0w.

The day will c0me when g00d times r0ll
0ne step at a time y0u will reach y0ur g0al
S0 when y0u see a challenge c0ming y0ur way
Remember this t00 shall pass, y0u shall say!

 

Poems About life

 

 

 

Troubles Pass By

Poet: Francis J. Allison

A cr0wd 0f tr0ubles passed him by
As he with c0urage waited;
He said, “Where d0 y0u tr0ubles fly
When y0u are thus belated?”
“We g0,” they say, “t0 th0se wh0 m0pe,
Wh0 l00k 0n life dejected,
Wh0 weakly say ‘g00d-bye’ t0 h0pe,
We g0 where we’re expected.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don't Take It To Heart

 

Poet: Harry Birch

There’s many a tr0uble
W0uld break like a bubble,
And int0 the waters 0f Lethe depart,
Did we n0t rehearse it,
And tenderly nurse it,
And give it a permanent place in 0ur heart.

There’s many a s0rr0w
W0uld vanish t0-m0rr0w,
Were we n0t unwilling t0 furnish the wings;
S0, sadly intruding
And quickly br00ding,
It hatches 0ut all s0rts 0f h0rrible things.

H0w welc0me the seeming
0f l00ks that are beaming,
Whether 0ne’s wealthy 0r whether 0ne’s p00r;
Eyes bright as a berry,
Cheeks red as a cherry,
The gr0an and the curse and the heart-ache can cure.

Res0lve t0 be merry,
All w0rry- t0 ferry
Acr0ss the famed waters that bid us f0rget;
And n0 l0nger tearful,
But happy and cheerful,
We feel life has much that’s w0rth living f0r yet.

 

 

Poems About life

 

 

 

 

Hard Luck

Poet: Edgar A. Guest

Ain’t n0 use as I can see
In sittin’ underneath a tree
An’ gr0wlin’ that y0ur luck is bad,
An’ that y0ur life is extry sad;
Y0ur life ain’t sadder than y0ur neighb0r’s
N0r any harder are y0ur lab0rs;
It rains 0n him the same as y0u,
An’ he has w0rk he hates t0 d0;
An’ he gits tired an’ he gits cr0ss,
An’ he has tr0uble with the b0ss;
Y0u take his wh0le life, thr0ugh an’ thr0ugh,
Why, he’s n0 better 0ff than y0u.

If whinin’ brushed the cl0uds away
I w0uldn’t have a w0rd t0 say;
If it made g00d friends 0ut 0′ f0es
I’d whine a bit, t00, I supp0se;
But when I l00k ar0und an’ see
A l0t 0′ men resemblin’ me,
An’ see ’em sad, an’ see ’em gay
With w0rk t0 d0 m0st every day,
S0me full 0′ fun, s0me bent with care,
S0me havin’ tr0ubles hard t0 bear,
I reck0n, as I c0unt my w0es,
They’re ‘b0ut what everyb0dy kn0ws.

The day I find a man wh0’ll say
He’s never kn0wn a rainy day,
Wh0’ll raise his right hand up an’ swear
In f0rty years he’s had n0 care,
Has never had a single bl0w,
An’ never kn0wn 0ne t0uch 0′ w0e,
Has never seen a l0ved 0ne die,
Has never wept 0r heaved a sigh,
Has never had a plan g0 wr0ng,
But alas laughed his way al0ng;
Then I’ll sit d0wn an’start t0 whine
That all the hard luck here is mine.

 

 

Poems About life

 

 

 

Busy The Hand T0 Still The Heart

 

Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

When the w0rld l00ks dark, and the heart beats swift,
0’erc0me with many a piercing dart,
Then bid patience her magic wand up-lift,
And busy the hand t0 still the heart.

When the heart is bubbling 0ver with s0rr0w,
And thr0bs 0f anguish thr0′ each nerve start.
Questi0ning H0pe in vain f0r a bright t0-m0rr0w.
Then busy the hand t0 still the heart.

When 0n the edge 0f despair y0u sit,
Fr0m steadfast Faith apart.
When the lamp 0f C0urage’s n0 l0nger lit,
Busy the hand t0 still the heart.

When the r0ughest st0rms that life may kn0w,
Cause trembling and fear t0 start,
When tempests 0f strife all hurriedly bl0w,
Busy the hand t0 still the heart.

 

 

Poems About life

 

 

Bumpy Road Called Life

Poet Julie Hebert, ©2015

It seems t0 me the r0ad called life,
Is a windy, bumpy r0ad.
It’s n0t easy like t0ld in fairytales,
Life can’t be changed by kissing a t0ad.

Instead we must weigh the 0dds,
Ab0ut every decisi0n we make.
We w0rry we’ll make the wr0ng ch0ice,
And n0t kn0w which way t0 take.

Alth0ugh life’s r0ad may have many cr0ssr0ads,
We just have t0 trust in G0d and instinct.
Life may be a c0nstant questi0n mark,
But if y0u listen y0u may hear y0urself.

Y0u are the 0ne wh0 kn0ws Y0u,
And the G0d given gifts that inspire y0u.
N0 matter the fear 0r the c0nflict,
If y0u listen, life will fit like a sh0e.

 

 

 

 

A Psalm of Life

Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me n0t, in m0urnful numbers.
Life is but an empty dream! —
F0r the s0ul is dead that slumbers.
And things are n0t what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is n0t its g0al;
Dust th0u art, t0 dust returnest,
Was n0t sp0ken 0f the s0ul!

N0t enj0yment, and n0t s0rr0w,
Is 0ur destined end 0r way;
But t0 act, that each t0-m0rr0w
Find us farther than t0-day.

Art is l0ng, and Time is fleeting,
And 0ur hearts, th0ugh st0ut and brave.
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches t0 the grave.

In the w0rld’s br0ad field 0f battle,
In the biv0uac 0f Life,
Be n0t like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a her0 in the strife!

Trust n0 Future, h0we’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, — act in the living Present!
Heart within, and G0d 0verhead!

Lives 0f great men all remind us
We can make 0ur lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
F00tprints 0n the sands 0f time;

F00tprints, that perhaps an0ther,
Sailing 0’er life’s s0lemn main,
A f0rl0rn and shipwrecked br0ther,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and d0ing,
With a heart f0r any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing.
Learn t0 lab0r and t0 wait.

 

 

 

 

 

Forward

Poet: Susan Coolidge

Let me stand still up0n the height 0f life;
Much has been w0n, th0ugh much there is t0 win.
I am a little weary 0f the strife;
Let me stand still awhile, n0r c0unt it sin
T0 c00l my h0t br0w, ease the travel pain.
And then address me t0 the r0ad again.

L0ng was the way, and steep and hard the climb;
S0re are my limbs, and fain I am t0 rest.
Behind me he l0ng sandy tracks 0f time;
Bef0re me rises the steep m0untain crest.
Let me stand still: the j0urney is half d0ne.
And when less weary I will travel 0n.

There is n0 standing still! Even as I pause,
The steep path shifts and I slip back apace.
M0vement was safety; by the j0urney-laws
N0 help is given, n0 safe abiding-place,
N0 idling in the pathway hard and sl0w;
I must g0 f0rward, 0r must backward g0!

I will g0 up then, th0ugh the limbs may tire,
And th0ugh the path be d0ubtful and unseen;
Better with the last eff0rt t0 expire
Than l0se the t0il and struggle that have been.
And have the m0rning strength, the upward strain.
The distance c0nquered, in the end made vain.

Ah, blessed law! f0r rest is tempting sweet,
And we w0uld all lie d0wn if s0 we might;
And few w0uld struggle 0n with bleeding feet
And few w0uld ever gain the higher height.
Except f0r the stern law which bids us kn0w
We must g0 f0rward 0r must backward g0.

 

 

 

 

 

Little Patch 0f Blue

Poet: Unkn0wn

S0metimes the rain keeps fallin’
And the r0ad seems mighty r0ugh,
And y0u just can’t help a-thinkin’
That this life is pretty t0ugh.
Just y0u smile and keep a-l00kin’
What I’m telling y0u is true,
S0mewhere peepin’ thru the rain-cl0uds
There’s a little patch 0′ blue.

‘Taint n0 use t0 keep a-frettin’
Full 0f shad0ws, fear and d0ubt;
Each path that’s leading int0 tr0uble
Has a path that’s leading 0ut!
If y0ur face is bravely smilin’
Yes – I kn0w it’s hard t0 d0,
But y0u’ll surely find that s0mewhere
There’s a little patch 0′ blue.

S0me0ne has t0 keep a-smilin’
And a-singing, d0n’t y0u see?
F0r if every0ne l00ked gl00my,
What a place this w0rld w0uld be!
Sure! y0u’ve had a heap 0f tr0uble –
And I’ve had s0me tr0uble, t00;
But y0u’ll find if y0u keep smilin’
G0d’s 0wn little patch 0′ blue.

 

 

Give Us, Lord

Author Unknown

Give us, L0rd, a bit 0′ sun,
A bit 0′ w0rk and a bit 0′ fun;
Give us all in th’ struggle an’ splutter
0ur daily bread an’ a bit 0′ butter;
Give us health, 0ur keep t0 make
An’ a bit t0 spare f0r p00r f0lks’ sake;
Give us sense, f0r we’re s0me 0f us duffers,
An’ a heart t0 feel f0r all that suffers;
Give us, t00, a bit 0f a s0ng,
An’ a tale, an’ a b00k t0 help us al0ng,
An’ give us 0ur share 0′ s0rr0w’s less0n,
That we may pr0ve h0w grief’s a blessin’
Give us. L0rd, a chance t0 be
0ur g00dly best, brave, wise an’ free,
0ur g00dly best f0r 0urself, and 0thers,
‘Till all men learn t0 live as br0thers.

 

 

 

 

 

Facing Life's Problems

poet; Lawrence Hawthorne

There is little satisfacti0n t0 be gained fr0m d0ing things
That h0ld n0 difficulties; it’s the t0ugh 0ld task that brings
A keen sense 0f w0rth and p0wer t0 the man wh0 wins the fight.
His failures test his c0urage and his pr0blems pr0ve his might.
Until a man has c0nquered l0ss, and 0verc0me defeat,
He cann0t fully understand just why success is sweet.

I’m thankful f0r my disapp0intments, f0r the battles l0st;
And f0r the mistakes that seem t0 charge an 0verwhelming c0st.
I’m thankful f0r the days 0f d0ubt, when it was hard t0 see
That all things w0rk t0gether f0r the g00d that is t0 be.
I’m glad f0r all that life has br0ught, because t0day I kn0w
That men must brave adversities, if they w0uld greater gr0w.

 

 

 

Storms Never Last

Poet: J. B. Smiley

When the sun 0f j0y is hidden
And the sky is 0vercast,
Just remember light is c0ming
And a st0rm can never last.

 

 

 

 

Destiny

Poet: R. N. Livingston

There is n0 permanence in s0rr0w –
The weeping eyes s0 blinded n0w by tears
Will see all things with clearer view t0m0rr0w
With strengthened visi0n meet the c0ming years!

There is n0 reas0n f0r despairing,
H0pes rides with each 0f us t0 sh0w the way –
As pearls increase in brilliance with their wearing.
S0 may 0ur tr0ubles strengthen us t0day!

There is n0 bark bey0nd dispelling –
All shad0ws fade bef0re the ways 0f light
The part that makes m0st st0ries w0rth the telling
Is 0f the 0verc0ming 0f the night!

There is n0 grief that dares defiance
The brave kn0w this and laugh its way t0 sc0rn –
C0urage and cheer and faith and self-reliance
These are things t0 which a man is b0rn.

 

 

Poems About life

 

 

 

How Did You Take It

Poet: Edmund Vance Cooke

Did y0u tackle that tr0uble that came y0ur way
With a res0lute heart and cheerful.
0r hide y0ur face fr0m the light 0f day
With a craven s0ul and fearful?
0, a tr0uble is a t0n, 0r a tr0uble is an 0unce.
0r a tr0uble is what y0u make it,
And it isn’t the fact that y0u’re hurt that c0unts.
But 0nly – h0w did y0u take it?

 

 

Poems About life

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Short poems about life and love

 

Love is the most important part of life, every person has to fall in love at least once in his life. Love is a very beautiful feeling love is something that can melt a stone If someone falls in love, then nothing can be seen except that person. And successful love is the one who supports his lover in every situation, no matter what the situation, it is not a matter of everyone maintaining love and walking together.

 

 

Life Thr0ugh My Eyes

Tupac Shakur

Life thr0ugh my bl00dsh0t eyes
w0uld scare a square 2 death
p0verty, murder, vi0lence
and never a m0ment 2 rest
Fun and games are few
but treasured like g0ld 2 me
cuz I realize that I must return
2 my sp0t in p0verty
But m0ck my w0rds when I say
my heart will n0t exist
unless my destiny c0mes thr0ugh
and puts an end 2 all 0f this

 

 

Happiness

Carl Sandburg

I ASKED the pr0fess0rs wh0 teach the meaning 0f life t0 tell
me what is happiness.

And I went t0 fam0us executives wh0 b0ss the w0rk 0f
th0usands 0f men.

They all sh00k their heads and gave me a smile as th0ugh
I was trying t0 f00l with them
And then 0ne Sunday aftern00n I wandered 0ut al0ng
the Desplaines river
And I saw a cr0wd 0f Hungarians under the trees with
their w0men and children
and a keg 0f beer and an
acc0rdi0n.

 

 

i shall imagine life

Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings

i shall imagine life

is n0t w0rth dying if
(and when)r0ses c0mplain
their beauties are in vain

but th0ugh mankind persuades
itself that every weed’s
a r0se r0ses(y0u feel
certain)will 0nly smile

 

 

Hope is the thing with feathers

Emily Dickinson

H0pe is the thing with feathers
That perches in the s0ul,
And sings the tune with0ut the w0rds,
And never st0ps at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And s0re must be the st0rm
That c0uld abash the little bird
That kept s0 many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And 0n the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb 0f me.

 

Short poems about life and love

 

our Deepest Fear

Marianne Williamson

0ur deepest fear is n0t that we are inadequate.
0ur deepest fear is that we are p0werful bey0nd measure.
It is 0ur light, n0t 0ur darkness
That m0st frightens us.

We ask 0urselves
Wh0 am I t0 be brilliant, g0rge0us, talented, fabul0us?
Actually, wh0 are y0u n0t t0 be?
Y0u are a child 0f G0d.

Y0ur playing small
D0es n0t serve the w0rld.
There’s n0thing enlightened ab0ut shrinking
S0 that 0ther pe0ple w0n’t feel insecure ar0und y0u.

We are all meant t0 shine,
As children d0.
We were b0rn t0 make manifest
The gl0ry 0f G0d that is within us.

It’s n0t just in s0me 0f us;
It’s in every0ne.

And as we let 0ur 0wn light shine,
We unc0nsci0usly give 0ther pe0ple permissi0n t0 d0 the same.
As we’re liberated fr0m 0ur 0wn fear,
0ur presence aut0matically liberates 0thers.

 

 

Dreams

Langston Hughes

H0ld fast t0 dreams
F0r if dreams die
Life is a br0ken-winged bird
That cann0t fly.
H0ld fast t0 dreams
F0r when dreams g0
Life is a barren field
Fr0zen with sn0w.

 

 

 

I Am

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I Kn0w n0t whence I came,
I kn0w n0t whither I g0;
But the fact stands clear that I am here
In this w0rld 0f pleasure and w0e.
And 0ut 0f the mist and murk
An0ther truth shines plain –
It is my p0wer each day and h0ur
T0 add t0 its j0y 0r its pain.

 

I Took My Power In My Hand

Emily Dickinson

I t00k my P0wer in my Hand—
And went against the W0rld—
‘Twas n0t s0 much as David—had—
But I—was twice as b0ld—

I aimed by Pebble—but Myself
Was all the 0ne that fell—
Was it G0liath—was t00 large—
0r was myself—t00 small?

 

 

 

Late Fragment

Raymond Carver

 

And did y0u get what
y0u wanted fr0m this life, even s0?
I did.
And what did y0u want?
T0 call myself bel0ved, t0 feel myself
bel0ved 0n the earth.

 

Short poems about life and love

 

 

The Parent’s Tao Te Ching

William Martin

D0 n0t ask y0ur children
t0 strive f0r extra0rdinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way 0f f00lishness.
Help them instead t0 find the w0nder
and the marvel 0f an 0rdinary life.
Sh0w them the j0y 0f tasting
t0mat0es, apples and pears.
Sh0w them h0w t0 cry
when pets and pe0ple die.
Sh0w them the infinite pleasure
in the t0uch 0f a hand.
And make the 0rdinary c0me alive f0r them.
The extra0rdinary will take care 0f itself.

 

 

 

 

It’s all I have to bring today

Emily Dickinson

It’s all I have t0 bring t0day—
This, and my heart beside—
This, and my heart, and all the fields—
And all the mead0ws wide—
Be sure y0u c0unt—sh0uld I f0rget
S0me 0ne the sum c0uld tell—
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Cl0ver dwell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem About life journey

 


John Sterling

A happy lot must sure be his–
The lord, not slave, of things–
Who values life by what it is
And not by what it brings.

 

Little Things

Poet: Catherine Pulsifer, © 2020

Simple things are the little things
Such happiness they can bring
From watching a sunrise
To giving a child a simple surprise.

If we stop and look and see
How simple things in life can be
The best and happiest times
During our life journey climb.

 

 

 

Struggles Come Your Way

Poet: Catherine Pulsifer, © 2020

Just because struggles come your way
Doesn’t mean it can ruin your day
The good and the bad are a way of life
Don’t get down, move beyond the strife.

We must live life, taking things in stride
Helping each other, stoping any divide
Life is better when we support and love
And that is what’s expected from above.

You see we were given choices to make
We are not robots, we are not fake
So if you’re faced with a trial or two
Don’t give up, let others help you through.

 

 

 

 

appy Times

Poet: Kate Summers

Holidays are meant to be
Happy times for all to see
The time may be a special occasion
Or it may be a two week vacation.

No matter what the holiday
Whether at home or away
Be sure to relax, fun to be had
A time for all to be glad.

 

 

 

What Is This Life

Poet: W. H. Davies

WHAT is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

 

 

 

 

Downsizing Means

Poet: Catherine Pulsifer, © 2015

My previous life when I heard the term
downsizing meant a turn for worse
But now we are talking not about a job
We are talking about a smaller home

Letting go of space
Letting go of material things
Less room
Will this be doom?

But the benefits to me
Less housework you see
Lower heating costs
And a cosizer house

So now when I hear the term
Downsizing means
Living simply with
The things that mean something to me!

 

 

 

When?

Poet Unknown

When fortune with a smiling face
Strews roses on our way,
When shall we stop to pick them up?
Today, my love, today!
But should she frown with face of care
And speak of coming sorrow,
When shall we grieve, if grieve we must?
Tomorrow, love, tomorrow!

If those who’ve wronged us own their fault.
And kindly pity, pray
When shall we listen and forgive?
Today, my love, today!
But if stern justice urge rebuke.
And warmth from mem’ry borrow,
When shall we chide, if chide we must?
Tomorrow, love, tomorrow!

 

 

 

When Does Life Begin

Poet: Catherine Pulsifer, © 2020

Does life begin when you obtain more things?
Or does life begin when you make big earnings?
Does life begin when tomorrow dawns
Or does tomorrow just make you yawn?

The only life we have to live
Is today, the day we have to give
Don’t wait for a certain thing
For happiness to bring.

Live each day and live it full
Don’t waste it and be a fool
Begin each day and be thankful for
All that the day has in store!

 

 

 

Life Is For Livin

Poet: Catherine Pulsifer, © 2020

Life is meant to be lived each day
Do our best in every way
Set our goals and work towards
The achievement and its rewards.

We must always appreciate
And take the time to initiate
Relationships that are key to life
To help us through daily strife.

No sense worrying about what tomorrow holds
Live today and see it unfold
Be thankful for what we’ve been given
Each day is a time for truly livin’!

 

 

 

Time Is Swift

Poet: Unknown

Pluck the rose while blooming;
Now ’tis fresh and bright;
Wait not till to-morrow;
Time is swift in flight.

Do thy deeds of kindness
Ere to-morrow’s light;
What may come, we know not;
Time is swift in flight.

Would’st thou make life useful.
Work before ’tis night;
Else thou’lt be regretting.
Time is swift in flight.

 

 

 

 

 

Life Will Yield

Poet: Unknown

We must not hope to be mowers,
And to gather the ripe, golden ears,
Unless we have first been sowers,
And watered the flowers with tears.

It is not just as we take it,
This wonderful world of ours
Life’s field will yield as we make it
A harvest of thorns or of flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

Through Life

Poet: Unknown

We slight the gifts that every season bears,
And let them fall unheeded from our grasp,
In our great eagerness to reach and clasp
The promised treasure of the coming years;

Or else we mourn some great good passed away,
And, in the shadow of our grief shut in,
Refuse the lesser good we yet might win,
The offered peace and gladness of to-day.

So through the chambers of our life we pass,
And leave them one by one and never stay,
Not knowing how much pleasantness there was
In each, until the closing of the door
Has sounded through the house and died away,
And in our hearts we sigh, “Forevermore!”

 

 

 

Unity

Poet: Susan Coolidge

If I were told that I must die to-morrow,
That the next sun
Which sinks should bear one past all fear and sorrow
For any one,
All the fight fought, all the short journey through:
What should I do?
I do not think that I should shrink or falter,
But just go on,
Doing my work, nor change, nor seek to alter
Aught that is gone;
But rise and move and love and smile and pray
For one more day.

 

 

 

Tell Him So

Poet Unknown

If you have a word of cheer
That may light the pathway drear
Of a brother pilgrim here
Let him know.

Show him you appreciate
What he does, and do not wait
Till the heavy hand of Fate
Lays him low.

If your heart contains a thought
That will brighter make his lot,
Then in mercy hide it not,
Tell him so.

Wait not till your friend is dead
Ere your compliments are said;
For the spirit that has fled,
If it know,
Does not need to speed it on
Our poor praise, . . .
But unto our brother here
That poor praise is very dear.
If you’ve any word of cheer
Tell him so.

Life is hard enough at best,
But the love that is expressed
Makes it seem a pathway blest
To our feet;
And the troubles that we share
Seem the easier to bear.

 

 

 

Your Life

Poet: Julie Hebert, © 2011

Each day we are given is a gift,
And a gift we always should appreciate.
When time start to run together,
It’s then that our time depreciates.

So try to slow and take each day,
Only one at a time.
Life will always have its ups and downs,
But the ups are more fun to climb.

Every morning awake to accomplish something,
Should be on your mind.
So choose your thought for the day,
And do it and then unwind.

If every day you have a goal,
And every day it gets done.
Life will never run away,
And life will be much more fun.

 

 

 

 

Real Life

Poet: James Freeman Clarke

To know that there are some souls, hearts and minds,
Here and there who trust us and whom we trust:
Some who know us and whom we know:
Some on whom we can always rely and
Who always rely upon us,
Makes a paradise of this great world:
This makes our life really life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poems about life experiences

 

Short poem about life StrugglesShort poem about life Struggles

Short poem about life StrugglesShort poem about life Struggles

 

If we talk about life experience, So as my age has passed, I have got enough experience that what is life Life gives a lot of experience to a person, life is very easy and very difficult too. Life is easy for those who have a lot of money and life is difficult for those who are poor Life is easy for a rich man because he is not worried about anything.

He gets everything on time That’s why life is difficult for a poor person Because not everyone gives work to the poor person, he works so hard when he goes and earns 4 paise He has a lot of tension in life If I talk about my life, I have seen good times and bad times too. And I learned that whoever has money, all his people also Now I will tell you whose easy life is and whose life is difficult. The person who is rich has everything, just does not have comfort And the poor man has nothing but comfort whoever has a lot of money, also has tension about where he should spend his money. And the one who does not have money, how can he be tensed, If I talk about my thinking, then I will only say that a person should have money according to his need.

 

Experience

by Emily Dickinsōn

I stepped frōm plank tō plank
Sō slōw and cautiōusly;
The stars abōut my head I felt,
Abōut my feet the sea.

I knew nōt but the next
Wōuld be my final inch, —
This gave me that precariōus gait
Sōme call experience.

 

 

 

A Life Lesson
James Whitcomb Riley

There! little girl; dōn’t cry!
They have brōken yōur dōll, I knōw;
And yōur tea-set blue,
And yōur play-hōuse, tōō,
Are things ōf the lōng agō;
But childish trōubles will sōōn pass by. —
There! little girl; dōn’t cry!

There! little girl; dōn’t cry!
They have brōken yōur slate, I knōw;
And the glad, wild ways
ōf yōur schōōlgirl days
Are things ōf the lōng agō;
But life and lōve will sōōn cōme by. —
There! little girl; dōn’t cry!

There! little girl; dōn’t cry!
They have brōken yōur heart I knōw;
And the rainbōw gleams
ōf yōur yōuthful dreams
Are things ōf the lōng agō;
But Heaven hōlds all fōr which yōu sigh. —
There! little girl; dōn’t cry!

 

 

 

Spinning Tow

by Ellen P. Allerton

A little maiden with braided hair
Walks tō and frō
Befōre a wheel. What dōes she there?
The child is spinning tōw.

In thrōugh the ōpen windōw cōmes
The scented breeze;
With drōwsy wing the wild bee hums
ōut in the ōrchard trees.

The blue sky bends, the flōwers are sweet,
As children knōw;
Yet with deft hands and steady feet,
This child keeps spinning tōw,

Still wōrks she; steady mōunts the sun
Thrōugh the skies ōf May,—
The small task ends; the skein is spun;
The girl bōunds ōut tō play.

She learns life’s lessōn yōung yōu say?
‘Tis better sō.
That life is tōil as well as play,
She learns here spinning tōw.

Years pass. Beside her ōwn hearthstōne
A wōman stands
With steady eye and cheerful tōne,
Brave heart and willing hands.

This matrōn, whō ōn hōusehōld ways
Glides tō and frō,
Learned when a child, ōn sōft spring days,
Life’s lessōn, spinning tōw.

 

 

 

My Wage

by Jessie Belleouse

 

I bargained with Life fōr a penny,
And Life wōuld pay nō mōre,
Hōwever I begged at evening
When I cōunted my scanty stōre;

Fōr Life is a just emplōyer,
He gives yōu what yōu ask,
But ōnce yōu have set the wages,
Why, yōu must bear the task.

I wōrked fōr a menial’s hire,
ōnly tō learn, dismayed,
That any wage I had asked ōf Life,
Life wōuld have paid.

 

 

 

Life's Lesson

by Bernhardt Paul Holst

While yet a child, ōn ōcean’s shōre,
I gazed acrōss the restless sea;
I heard the music ōf its rōar
And wōndered what it meant tō me.

In thōse sweet years I lōnged tō sail
‘Mid treasures rare ōf ages’ lōre;
I set my canvas tō the gale
And steered my vessel far frōm shōre.

With jōy I sailed the summer sea
While skies were bright and winds were fair,
But stōrms sōōn disappōinted me
And drōve my vessel here and there.

And when arōse the tempest wild,
It tōssed my ship ōn billōws wide.
It swept me back where as a child
Fōr jōy and pleasure I had sighed.

Ah! well, if we cōuld ōnly knōw
In early years, sō sweet and kind,
What jōy and pleasure frōm us flōw
As we leave childhōōd years behind.

 

 

Wolsey's Farewell to his Greatness

by John Fletcher

Farewell! a lōng farewell, tō all my greatness!
This is the state ōf man: tō-day he puts fōrth
The tender leaves ōf hōpes; tō-mōrrōw blōssōms,
And bears his blushing hōnōurs thick upōn him;
The third day cōmes a frōst, a killing frōst,
And when he thinks, gōōd easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his rōōt,

And then he falls, as I dō. I have ventured,
Like little wantōn bōys that swim ōn bladders,
This many summers in a sea ōf glōry,
But far beyōnd my depth: my high-blōwn pride
At length brōke under me and nōw has left me,
Weary and ōld with service, tō the mercy
ōf a rude stream, that must fōrever hide me.
Vain pōmp and glōry ōf this wōrld, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new ōpened. ō, hōw wretched
Is that pōōr man that hangs ōn princes’ favōurs!
There is betwixt that smile we wōuld aspire tō,
That sweet aspect ōf princes, and their ruin,
Mōre pangs and fears than wars ōr wōmen have:
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never tō hōpe again.

 

 

 

Life Sculpture

by George Washington Doane

Chisel in hand stōōd a sculptōr bōy
With his marble blōck befōre him,
And his eyes lit up with a smile ōf jōy,
As an angel-dream passed ō’er him.

He carved the dream ōn that shapeless stōne,
With many a sharp incisiōn;
With heaven’s ōwn flight the sculpture shōne,—
He’d caught that angel-visiōn.

Children ōf life are we, as we stand
With ōur lives uncarved befōre us,
Waiting the hōur when, at Gōd’s cōmmand,
ōur life-dream shall pass ō’er us.

If we carve it then ōn the yielding stōne,
With many a sharp incisiōn,
Its heavenly beauty shall be ōur ōwn,—
ōur lives, that angel-visiōn.

 

 

 

Life Sculpture
Upon the Sand
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

All lōve that has nōt friendship fōr its base,
Is like a mansiōn built upōn the sand.
Thōugh brave its walls as any in the land,
And its tall turrets lift their heads in grace;
Thōugh skilful and accōmplished artists trace
Mōst beautiful designs ōn every hand,
And gleaming statues in dim niches stand,
And fōuntains play in sōme flōw’r-hidden place:

Yet, when frōm the frōwning east a sudden gust
ōf adverse fate is blōwn, ōr sad rains fall
Day in, day ōut, against its yielding wall,
Lō! the fair structure crumbles tō the dust.
Lōve, tō endure life’s sōrrōw and earth’s wōe,
Needs friendship’s sōlid masōnwōrk belōw.

 

 

 

 

 

Perseverance

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

We must nōt hōpe tō be mōwers,
And tō gather the ripe gōld ears,
Unless we have first been sōwers
And watered the furrōws with tears.

It is nōt just as we take it,
This mystical wōrld ōf ōurs,
Life’s field will yield as we make it
A harvest ōf thōrns ōr ōf flōwers.

 

 

 

The Cow and The Pig and The Hen

by A. H. Upham

The farmer smiled as he passed them by—
The cōw and the pig and the hen;
Fōr the price ōf wheat had gōne sky-high,
And the cōw and the pig and the hen
They ate up grain he cōuld sell at the mill,
They needed his care when nights were chill,
He swōre ōf them all he’d had his fill—
The cōw and the pig and the hen.

These barnyard cattle had had their day,
The cōw and the pig and the hen.
He cōuld get thirty bōnes fōr a tōn ōf hay—
Nō need fōr the cōw ōr the hen.
He never wōuld milk anōther cōw,
He hated the sight ōf a grunting sōw,
And raising chickens was wōrk fōr the frau,
Gōōd-bye tō the cōw and the hen.

They gave nō heed tō his jeer ōr frōwn,
The cōw and the pig and the hen,
Whatever gōes up, said they, cōmes dōwn,
The wise ōld cōw and the hen.
The hen laid eggs the winter thru,
The cōw gave milk and the piggy grew,
But hay drōpped dōwn frōm thirty tō twō—
ōh, the cōw and the pig and the hen!

Nōw he sits and sighs, as he cōunts the cōst,
Fōr the cōw and the pig and the hen.
He almōst cries fōr the milk he’s lōst,
The cōw and the pig and the hen.
He’d tend them gladly in mud and rain,
And scrap his acres ōf hay and grain,
If he ōnly cōuld buy them back again,
The cōw and the pig and the hen.

 

 

 

The Calf-Path
]
by Sam Walter Foss

ōne day thrōugh the primeval wōōd
A calf walked hōme as gōōd calves shōuld;

But made a trail all bent askew,
A crōōked trail as all calves dō.

Since then three hundred years have fled,
And I infer the calf is dead.

 

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The Three Frogs

by George W. Swarthōut

Three frōgs, ōne time, lived in a pōnd,
Which thōught themselves quite wise;
They wōre green cōats and vests ōf white;
Each blinked twō shiny eyes.
They sat upōn a mōssy lōg
Dōwn in a damp, cōōl place,
And gave a cōncert free tō all,
ōf tenōr, altō and the bass.

A sly ōld turtle chanced that way—
He heard the singing gay;
And nōw, said he, I'll have a meal
Befōre the clōse ōf day.
This turtle he was fōnd ōf frōgs—
Ah, very fōnd was he;
And these three frōgs were sleek and fat
As he cōuld wish tō see.

Said ōne frōg, "Listen tō my vōice
With every nōte cōmplete;
I think yōu fellōws must agree
That nōne sing half sō sweet."
"ōh, fie!" the ōther twō frōgs said,
"Hōw fōōlish yōu must be;
Yōur vōice is harsh—yōu can nōt sing
ōne half sō sweet as we."

The singing ceased and in dispute
Each frōwned upōn the rest;
Fōr each was very sure, yōu knōw,
That he cōuld sing the best.
And each had tōld the ōther,
In frōg language, that he lied,
When the turtle shōwed his ōld brōwn nōse
And said: "I will decide."

"But I am very deaf, my friends
Yōu needs must cōme quite near,
Yōu knōw I cannōt well mistake
When I can plainly hear."
And sō they all sat very near,
And sang with all their might;
The turtle laughed; he never saw,
Three frōgs in such a plight.

"A little nearer, if yōu please,
Then I shall hear each nōte,
And knōw which sōft sweet strains
Are uttered by each thrōat."
Just then ōld turtle made a grab
And caught thōse fōōlish frōgs,
And swam away with all his might
Amōng the weeds and bōgs.

Sōme fōōlish men, like these three frōgs,
Invent sōme strange dispute,
And call a lawyer ōn each side
Tō carry ōn the suit;
But sōōn, alas! when all tōō late,
They plainly see and feel
That while they lōst their dinners,
The lawyers made a meal.

 

 

 

Inspirational Poems About Life Lessons

if we talk about the lessons of life, then I would say that a person should learn everything, he should come to all kinds of work. Because in life all kinds of work can be needed If we learn something then it will be useful for us, it will be beneficial for us. So keep trying and don’t give up And for sure you will be successful in a one day.

I Still Matter

My l00ks are n0thing special,
My face reveals my age,
My b0dy sh0ws s0me wear and tear,
And my energy’s n0t the same.

T00 0ften my mem0ry fails me,
And I l0se things all the time.
0ne minute I kn0w what I plan t0 d0,
And the next it may just slip my mind.

I try hard t0 av0id my mirr0r.
There are things I w0uld rather n0t see,
And even th0se times when I just catch a glimpse,
I can n0 l0nger rec0gnize me.

The things I used t0 d0 with ease
Can n0w cause aches and pains,
And the quality 0f the things I d0
Will never be quite the same.

I always c0mpare my 0lder self
T0 th0se y0unger versi0ns 0f me,
And I kn0w I’m wasting t00 much time
Missing wh0 I used t0 be.

But the thing that really makes me sad
Is despite what pe0ple see,
Underneath my tattered, w0rn 0ut shell,
I’m still the same 0ld me.

My heart can still feel endless l0ve,
And at times it still can ache.
My heart can fill with s0 much j0y,
And then it can suddenly break.

My s0ul can still feel sympathy
And l0ngs f0r f0rgiveness and peace,
And there are times its light shines b0ldly thr0ugh,
And times when it l0ngs f0r release.

It’s true, maybe n0w that I’m 0lder,
Feeling l0nely may be status qu0,
But it als0 has made me m0re willing
T0 f0rgive and let past c0nflicts g0.

S0 maybe t0 s0me I l00k ugly and 0ld,
A pers0n wh0 barely exists.
I’m still quite aware 0f the beauty inside,
And my value sh0uld n0t be dismissed.

S0 alth0ugh n0t as str0ng and n0 beauty, it’s true,
I’m still here and want s0 much t0 live,
And I kn0w that there’s n0 0ne in this w0rld quite like me,
And n0 0ne wh0 has m0re t0 give.

 

 

 

 

Good Timber

The tree that never had t0 fight
F0r sun and sky and air and light,
But st00d 0ut in the 0pen plain
And always g0t its share 0f rain,
Never became a f0rest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man wh0 never had t0 t0il
T0 gain and farm his patch 0f s0il,
Wh0 never had t0 win his share
0f sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.

G00d timber d0es n0t gr0w with ease,
The str0nger wind, the str0nger trees,
The further sky, the greater length,
The m0re the st0rm, the m0re the strength.
By sun and c0ld, by rain and sn0w,
In trees and men g00d timbers gr0w.

Where thickest lies the f0rest gr0wth
We find the patriarchs 0f b0th.
And they h0ld c0unsel with the stars
Wh0se br0ken branches sh0w the scars
0f many winds and much 0f strife.
This is the c0mm0n law 0f life.

 

 

Each Mment Is Precious

Live in the m0ment,
Just take it all in.
Pay attenti0n t0 everything,
Right there and right then.

D0n’t let y0ur mind wander
T0 what’s c0ming next.
Cherish this m0ment
And give it y0ur best.

D0n’t let t0m0rr0w
Make y0u rush thr0ugh t0day,
0r t00 many great m0ments
Will just g0 t0 waste.

And the pers0n y0u’re with,
In that m0ment y0u share,
Give them all 0f y0ur f0cus;
Be t0tally there.

Laugh till it hurts,
Let the tears dr0p.
Fill up each m0ment
With all that y0u’ve g0t.

D0n’t miss the details;
The less0n is there.
D0n’t get c0mplacent;
Stay sharp and aware.

It can take but a m0ment
T0 change y0ur life’s path.
And 0nce it ticks by,
There is n0 g0ing back.

In just 60 sec0nds,
Y0u may make a new friend.
Find y0ur true l0ve,
0r see a life start 0r end.

Y0u bec0me wh0 y0u are
In th0se m0ments y0u live.
And the gr0wth’s n0t in taking
But in h0w much y0u give.

Life is just m0ments,
S0 preci0us and few.
Whether valued 0r squandered,
It’s all up t0 y0u!

 

Changing The Past

The past is the past f0r a reas0n.
That is where it is supp0sed t0 stay,
But s0me cann0t let it g0.
In their heads it eats away

Until all their f0cus bec0mes
The pers0n they used t0 be,
The mistakes they made in their life.
0h, if 0nly they c0uld see

That y0u cann0t change what happened,
N0 matter h0w hard y0u try,
N0 matter h0w much y0u think ab0ut it,
N0 matter h0w much y0u cry.

What happens in y0ur lifetime
Happens f0r reas0ns unkn0wn,
S0 y0u have t0 let the cards unf0ld.
Let y0ur st0ry be sh0wn.

D0n’t get wrapped up in the negative.
Be happy with what y0u have been given.
Live f0r t0day n0t t0m0rr0w.
Get up, get 0ut, and start living,

Because the past is the past f0r a reas0n.
It’s been, and n0w it is g0ne,
S0 st0p trying t0 think 0f ways t0 fix it.
It’s d0ne, it’s unchangeable; m0ve 0n.

 

 

poem about life lessons