Favorite Poems and Verses Cultures and Education

  • View author's info posted on Mar 08, 2006 at 19:17


    Simply Steps
    (By Me)


    Steps, always steps. Here, there, everywhere steps! Is not life nothing more than simply yet another row of steps to which we all must climb? Some climb higher than others, while still yet others find ways to side-step life's pre-ordained little steps. There are those that have been accused of cheating fate by somehow being able to stay one step ahead of the game as it were. I suppose its sometimes good to simply face up to ones deepest fears and step up to the plate. While serving in the military I was forever being told I was out of step. I suppose I have always been one to step to the beat of a different drum...

    Goodness, will you look at the time! I must step lively least I get stepped upon! So if you'll please pardon my sudden rudeness, I must be stepping out...
  • View author's info posted on Mar 08, 2006 at 19:16


    Infinite Sky
    (By Me)

    Look upon me for I am the night
    Gaze unto my endless sky filled with countless shards of light
    Stand in wonderment of my vastness, for I am older than time itself,
    And I am limitless in my bounds
    I am infinity itself
    I am both poetry in motion, and contemplation in silence
    I am death, and I am life,
    I hold many secrets, yet I share many wonders
    My movement is irrelevant, my motion but a blur, or a painting frozen in place
    Look deep into my eyes and view creation itself
    I was your mother, I will be your reaper
    I judge not, I simply "do"
    I am the night, as I am the day.
    Your loyalty matters not to me, I have no need of followers
    I was hear when you emerged from dust,
    I will see you return to dust

    Gaze unto me whilst you ponder your own destiny,
    For I am the night...
  • View author's info posted on Mar 08, 2006 at 19:16


    Adrenalin Fix
    (By Me)


    The purr of machine beneath me,
    the gathering roar of the wind before me.

    I push in the clutch, pull back the stick, and I'm off to yet another level of self awareness, and a deeper essence of being..

    Round a corner, then another, brake, swing, dive, accelerate, again, again, again!

    My heart races faster, I feel the energy building inside, my thoughts begin to flash like lightning in a summer storm, ever building, ever faster.

    We are one, we feel one another's mood, sharing the emotion of the moment.
    Striate away, another gear, another level! Faster still!

    Ours is a symbiotic relationship of man and machine in its purist form.

    What ever it was that was clouding my thoughts, or making me angry before seems to steadily be disappearing in my rear view mirror, far behind me in my wake.

    My machine and I, for this moment, we are one...

    Step aside mortals, for we were both made for this moment!

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  • View author's info posted on Mar 08, 2006 at 18:56


    The Invitation

    It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
    I want to know what you ache for
    and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

    It doesn't interest me how old you are.
    I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
    for love
    for your dream
    for the adventure of being alive.

    It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
    I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
    if you have been opened by life's betrayals
    or have become shrivelled and closed
    from fear of further pain.

    I want to know if you can sit with pain
    mine or your own
    without moving to hide it
    or fade it
    or fix it.

    I want to know if you can be with joy
    mine or your own
    if you can dance with wildness
    and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
    without cautioning us to
    be careful
    be realistic
    remember the limitations of being human.

    It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
    is true.
    I want to know if you can
    disappoint another
    to be true to yourself.
    If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
    and not betray your own soul.
    If you can be faithless
    and therefore trustworthy.

    I want to know if you can see Beauty
    even when it is not pretty
    every day.
    And if you can source your own life
    from its presence.

    I want to know if you can live with failure
    yours and mine
    and still stand at the edge of the lake
    and shout to the silver of the full moon,
    "Yes."

    It doesn't interest me
    to know where you live or how much money you have.
    I want to know if you can get up
    after the night of grief and despair
    weary and bruised to the bone
    and do what needs to be done
    to feed the children.

    It doesn't interest me who you know
    or how you came to be here.
    I want to know if you will stand
    in the centre of the fire
    with me
    and not shrink back.

    It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
    you have studied.
    I want to know what sustains you
    from the inside
    when all else falls away.

    I want to know if you can be alone
    with yourself
    and if you truly like the company you keep
    in the empty moments.

    ~Author Unknown~
  • View author's info posted on Mar 08, 2006 at 18:53


    An Old Man's Winter Night

    All out of doors looked darkly in at him
    Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
    That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
    What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
    Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
    What kept him from remembering what it was
    That brought him to that creaking room was age.
    He stood with barrels round him -- at a loss.
    And having scared the cellar under him
    In clomping there, he scared it once again
    In clomping off; -- and scared the outer night,
    Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
    Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
    But nothing so like beating on a box.
    A light he was to no one but himself
    Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
    A quiet light, and then not even that.
    He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
    So late-arising, to the broken moon
    As better than the sun in any case
    For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
    His icicles along the wall to keep;
    And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
    Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
    And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
    One aged man -- one man -- can't keep a house,
    A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
    It's thus he does it of a winter night.

    -Robert Frost
  • View author's info posted on Mar 08, 2006 at 18:42


    Luv2Ride99 write:
    And back atcha, bb! that was really beautiful.


    Thanks, that's always been one of my faverites. Since you posted yours, here are a couple of my own scribblings.
  • View author's info posted on Mar 07, 2006 at 22:02


    buggerbender write:
    Nice bit of word smithing Luv2Ride, thanks for sharing.


    And back atcha, bb! that was really beautiful.
  • View author's info posted on Mar 06, 2006 at 00:48


    Nice bit of word smithing Luv2Ride, thanks for sharing.
  • View author's info posted on Mar 06, 2006 at 00:45


    The Highwayman
    by
    English Poet

    Alfred Noyes 1880-1958



    Part One

    The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
    The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
    The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
    And the highwayman came riding
    Riding-riding-
    The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

    He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
    A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
    They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
    And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
    His pistol butts a-twinkle,
    His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

    Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
    And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
    He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
    But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
    Bess, the landlord's daughter,
    Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

    And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
    Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
    His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
    But he loved the landlord's daughter,
    The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
    Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say -

    "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
    But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
    Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
    Then look for me by moonlight,
    Watch for me by moonlight,
    I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

    He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
    But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
    As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
    And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
    (Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
    Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

    Part Two

    I

    He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
    And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
    When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
    A red-coat troop came marching-
    Marching-marching-
    King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

    II

    They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
    But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
    Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
    There was death at every window;
    And hell at one dark window;
    For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.

    III

    They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
    They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
    "Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
    She heard the dead man say-
    Look for me by moonlight;
    Watch for me by moonlight;
    I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

    IV

    She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
    She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
    They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
    Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
    Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
    The tip of one figure touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

    V

    The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
    Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
    She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
    For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
    Blank and bare in the moonlight;
    And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain

    VI

    Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
    Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
    Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
    The highwayman came riding,
    Riding, riding!
    The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!

    VII

    Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night
    Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
    Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
    Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
    Her musket shattered the moonlight,
    Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.

    VIII
    He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
    Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
    Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
    How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
    The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
    Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

    IX

    Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
    With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
    Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
    When they shot him down on the highway,
    Down like a dog on the highway,
    And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

    X

    And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
    When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
    When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
    A highwayman comes riding-
    Riding-riding-
    A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

    XI

    Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
    And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
    He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
    But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
    Bess, the landlord's daughter,
    Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
  • View author's info posted on Feb 10, 2006 at 08:48


    Too Young
    (by me :)

    She was just too young to be a mom.
    I love her, hate her, want her at my prom.
    And even though I'm all grown up and in this life embark,
    I'm just a little boy inside who's still afraid of the dark.

    Mom was just a kid when I was born.
    Sweet 15 and not a bit worn.
    No books for me, no bedtime story,
    Just tales of monsters, bloody and gory.

    I should've been held, should've been warm,
    But was filled with fear, one that had no form.
    She said they waited and watched from inside the walls
    For bad little boys who for mommy calls.

    Mom spent more time with her friends than me.
    I heard words like pot, drugs and long island iced tea.
    When I was four I went to live with my dad
    And didn't get to see mom which made me sad.

    When I was six I got to go on a plane
    To see my mom for short trip to more pain.
    She was on drugs again and I almost drowned
    So grandpa took me back to my dad's home town.

    I'm 15 now and doing fine,
    Into sports and having a great time.
    A girlfriend who's so sweet and not at all high strung,
    We don't want to be teen parents, no not too young.

    She was just too young to be a mom.
    I love her, hate her, want her at my prom.
    And even though I'm all grown up and in this life embark,
    I'm just a lttle boy inside who's still afraid of the dark.
  • View author's info posted on Feb 10, 2006 at 08:43


    NORTY write:
    ...there once was a man from nantucket...


    ...He bought a new ride,
    that she wanted not to stride.

    So he contemplated shortly,
    thought she looked too portly,

    and headed alone for Nantucket,
    calling out "Well, F uk it!"

    ~~~

    Hah, I knew there was a bit of poet lurking inside there, Norty !!! LOL



    ~~~
    WildSide :)
  • View author's info posted on Jan 28, 2006 at 09:48


    And a fav quote...

    "All the gods, they cannot sever us. If I were dead and you were still fighting for life, I'd come back from the darkness. Back from the pit of hell to fight at your side."
    (Valeria in Conan the Barbarian)
  • View author's info posted on Jan 16, 2006 at 22:23


    Grandma's Arms
    (another original :)


    So who will hold me when I fall down
    When mommy's lying on the ground.
    She smells real bad and sleeps all day
    I sure get hungry when she's that way.

    I watch cartoons 'cause I know how
    To turn on the TV like a big girl now.
    I climb up to get cereal for sister and me.
    We can eat it right from the box you see.

    Me and my sister sit with the boyfriend at night.
    He sure likes to scare us, yup, that's right.
    He says he's nice but, hurts me here.
    Please mommy why can't you be near.

    So who will hold me when I fall down.
    When mommy's lying on the ground.
    She smells real bad and sleeps all day.
    I sure get hungry when she's that way.

    I see a car, I see a smile,
    guess who came to stay a while?
    Grandma's here with her warm arms to catch me up when I fall down.
  • View author's info posted on Jan 16, 2006 at 22:05


    A Complete Human Being
    (my first published poem :)


    Our country was founded on the desire of a majority
    To establish freedoms by the people and for the people.
    Freedom of Religion was primary among these.

    Today we look around and find that as a country,
    The majority are legally diminishing our freedoms one by one
    For fear of offending the constituents
    Or stepping on someone's toes.
    The majority now says
    "Be a good person, but, don't talk religion."

    Whether one believes in a God, Buddha, Jesus, Thunder Beings, Cosmic Soup,
    The Higher Self or other archetype is no matter.
    What matters is the fact that as we supposedly progress,
    We further separate foundational beliefs
    From our daily lives, and we can see the ramifications
    On the streets and in our homes.

    A person standing alone with no faith, has no hope.
    A country with no faith, lives in apathy.
    And we can see the effects
    In the actions of our children.
    Emotional detachment,
    Murder and drug abuse are rampant.
    Depression and Post Traumatic Stress are commonly heard.
    Teen suicide and mother's killing their children are real.

    We need to let our beliefs guide us, our faith to lift us up
    So we can be whole again, complete human beings.



    namaste'
  • View author's info posted on Dec 31, 2005 at 18:24


    REINCARNATION

    We are as a drop of water,
    Fallen from the sky.
    Lost, yet not alone.
    As we search and try.
    To find a true path,
    Back to the heavens.
    Through endless ways,
    Of morals and lessons.
    Some go quickly,
    As they turn to the light.
    Others must stay,
    To work and fight.
    Through the soil and rock.
    Of everyday life.
    A harsh and seemingly,
    Endless strife.
    Traveling across acres,
    And acres of earth,
    Twisting and turning,
    And seeking their worth.
    Gathering in trickles,
    And puddles and streams.
    Increasing in numbers,
    And gravitational means.
    Some are lost,
    And unable to find.
    The will, detennination,
    And strength of mind.
    That all of us need,
    To forge ahead.
    With Purpose and meaning,
    In what we've said.
    To keep us flowing,
    As rivers and streams.
    To a greater awareness,
    An ocean of dreams.
    Then to rise from the depths,
    Of all that are there.
    With the warmth of the light,
    Lifted high into the air.
    Where once again,
    A drop you form.
    To fall again,
    Lost and forlorn.

    TWO WHEEL FEELING

    To feel the wind in my face,
    And the earth at my side.
    Unobstructed vision,
    Where ever I ride.
    The hills, the valleys,
    The trees and the grass.
    All these things,
    I see as I pass.
    To turn, to bank,
    To cut through the air.
    To lean and press,
    As fast as I dare.
    With grace and balance,
    I smoothly flow.
    Around each bend,
    Still faster I go.
    Manuevering each turn,
    With the road at my feet.
    Not against you,
    But myself I compete.
    Feeling every inch,
    Of road that I cross.
    Showing the road,
    And myself who's boss.
    Of the powerful machine,
    I hold in my hands.
    As I travel far,
    Across many lands.
    Seeing and feeling,
    The natural beauty there.
    Touching and knowing,
    And breathing the air.
    Every mile that goes by,
    Has something to say.
    To make it worthwhile,
    Each and every day.
    As I travel, And ride,
    With confidence, And pride.
    Anywhere and everywhere,
    I should happen to choose.
    Meander, race, Ramble. or cruise,
    For my two wheels,
    Will always take me.
    To all the places,
    I care to be.
  • View author's info posted on Dec 29, 2005 at 14:40


    Would someone post a poem about chasing the rain away by the weekend, please :) We'd all appreciate it!



    C'mon... ride with me a little... on the wild side, we're sure to have some fun!

    Luv2
  • View author's info posted on Dec 22, 2005 at 22:10


    ANYWAY
    author unknown


    People are unreasonable, illogical and self-centered,
    Love Them Anyway!

    If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives,
    Do Good Anyway!

    If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies,
    Succeed Anyway!

    The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow,
    Do Good Anyway!

    Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable,
    Be Honest and Frank Anyway!

    What you spend years building, might be destroyed overnight,
    Build Anyway!

    People needing help may attack you if you try to help them,
    Help People Anyway!

    Give the world your best and you'll get disparaged and ridiculed,
    Give the World Your Best Anyway!





    It was originally thought that this verse was penned by Mother Theresa of Calcutta, but in actuality it was written by a man.
  • View author's info posted on Dec 22, 2005 at 21:58


    WOW...sobering
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