Best Lifelife Poems
The beauty of life, which is often unseen
I guess each of us has some sort dream
Intertwined with our ambitions and hope
Sometimes it seems so impossible to cope
Some days are blessed others are cursed
Life; unlike a play, we don’t get to rehearse
With diligent effort we rise up to the top
Refusing to slow down let-a-long stop
Top of the mountain offers a beautiful view
A place to reflect on how dreams come true
I’ve thought it all over and I believe it is true
My dreams are mine and yours belong to you
We have our own path with rivers to cross
We cherish the gain and we regret the loss
Each one of us has our tools, which we use
The right to decide how we walk in our shoes
There will always be those who criticize and judge
Always be someone who holds some sort of grudge
Misery Loves Company is the saying they tell
No one wants to lonely especially sitting in hell
Its best not to believe in good and bad luck
Accept responsibility and not pass the buck
Reach the point where there’s nothing left to hide
That’s when you find yourself beaming with pride
I never look at another to judge my own wealth
I never judge another as hard as I judge myself
Life is a journey, which has a beginning and end
Each life has its own special meaning to send
If I die today, the story I hope my life has told
I measured my success through my heart of gold
I have found myself at the threshold of death on several occasions. Each time I managed to
look it in the eye, doff my hat and say, “I’ll catch you up the trail.” This is not to say that I
am some special breed of hombre that casually defies death, for there have been many who
have gone the way before me and managed the confrontation in heroic decorum.
Nevertheless, death is not some evil state of being that only the brilliant or daring may defy;
nor is it a release from the severity of life. If anything, death is the threshold of eternity. Life
provides all known qualities, conditions, trials and tribulations that we encounter throughout
the fruition of our purpose.
Oh, death is not the enemy, for life provides our foes,
The ills, disease and suffering… the countless other woes;
For this is as it was ordained since Earth was yet to be,
When life evolved on other planes, the eye will never see.
We all embrace our time and grow in body, mind and soul.
We foster wisdom, strength and faith, fulfilling every role.
Prepared or not, the time will come, our form will waste away,
While life goes on, as is ordained by He who plans the way.
No, death is not the enemy, an end that one should fear.
It’s but a threshold for the soul to doff its mortal gear,
While life transcends its bond with Man to dwell forevermore
With He, whose force conceived all life and is its very core.
The Mastermind isn't keen or shy.
Though some have deemed him pretty sly,
His life just keeps on passing by
And in the end, he’s a normal guy.
He speaks good French but he's not from France.
He lives in a dream, dwells in a trance.
His life never quite seems too advanced
But he thinks it’s a fine song and dance.
He gets a lot of his elation
From instant-messaging conversation
He also puts to application
His years of gathered information.
He doesn't go out very often,
Or refer to himself in the third person,
He did this time though, to get a grin
And he wants to learn the violin.
The important part is yet to come,
He chews his nails instead of gum
He sings a tune and hums a hum,
While calculating his life's sum.
The Mastermind is sharp and slick.
He counts the seconds as they tick
Things tend to click in his mind pretty quick,
And he carries the Devil's walking stick.
Like everyone else he dreams of fame,
And like some out there he plays The Game.
People tend to mispronounce his name:
He pretends to care and thinks its lame.
He's not very sexy or defined,
But considers himself a rare find.
If you meet him he'll be very kind,
That's who he is... The Mastermind.
THE PSYCHEDELIC STEW
We loved to drive out through the hills
Where landscapes are so green,
And always sought the smell of hay
That seemed so fresh and clean.
We'd rent a cosy cottage there
Around that time each year,
The days and nights were magical
And life was full of cheer.
That night we planned a simple tea
A good old country stew,
With fresh grown mushrooms we had picked
As 'round the place they grew.
Those mushrooms seemed much larger then
The ones we'd norm'lly find,
But in they went with all the rest,
We really did not mind.
Our stew was just the best we'd had
On that we did agree,
Then sitting back and quite content
Enjoyed a cup of tea.
When suddenly, in front of us,
Our kitchen came to life
With antics never seen before;
Sure terrified my wife.
She sat and watched with fear filled eyes
For both her knife and fork,
Were standing up and quite erect
And both of them could walk.
The kitchen curtains did a jig
And plates flew 'round the room,
Our mop then left its corner spot
To line dance with the broom.
Old teapot sang and clapped its hands,
The tea cups joined in too.
My mind it boggled at the sight
and wondered what to do.
I grabbed the phone and dialled for help
That soon was on its way;
Though not before the pots and pans
Had all began to play.
Poor doctor tried to calm us down
Enquiring of our plight.
We mentioned what had taken place,
The horrors of that night.
He summed up what had taken place,
The answer he now knew,
We'd eaten mushrooms which produced,
A psychedelic stew.
Many a tribute is written
Only the writer knows why
The reason I'm writing this
He could have been goodbye
This Bakersfield boy
Smith Corner he graced
To lose his mother at 4
A young soul misplaced
Loving Grandparents
Filled an empty void
For the loss of a parent
Internal destroy
High School reached
Hooked on drugs
Degenerating body
Societies bug
He ended up here
And also there
To the age of 41
In hazed stare
An Angel was released
To look after her son
As he rose from his prayer
His new life begun
Then came the day
A son was reborn
In a town called Willows
The end of his storm
Another two Angels appeared
Michaela and Antoinette
His future path laid
All three, truly set
Mr Michael Jordan
I think your grand
You help your past
Now that's a stand
A leader, a gent
Poet and dude
To shake your hand
I wish i could
My tribute to a wonderful person whose life story always moved me.
You were so
full of life and
uniqueness and inspiration
to those like me
looking for a voice
to cry out and be
oneself, shuffle off
such mortal coil
and fly high above
the elements of
repetition.
Yet I saw your
roots now, they
run deep, breaking
free from the cold
pavement and saw
life jetting up
You friend are birthed,
live die and are
born anew in all
uniqueness. You don't
conform to one mold
but are willing to
change with the seasons
of life and just be.
Be green
Be red
Be brown
Be puke-green
Be old
Be young
Be new
Be you
you are the teacher
of this poem
Be yourself
and look up from
the pavement of
repetition
The slow progress of a wandering mind.
With quiet ambition, too swift to humble.
I should not fall, will not break,
I fear that I will never give up my quest.
It's strange now that I search,
Never knowing what for, or where to look.
I feel the years drawing in.
Impatient to be grown,
Careful to stay young.
Not too soon,
Take life slow.
So I do, and no pleasure do I take.
What pride do I derive from a shallow life?
A slow life, lacking depth and texture.
It used to be deep, it used to be hard.
But then, in those days there used to be sunlight.
Oh how I miss the sunlight.
Now as winter draws in, pale and icy,
Lacking substance, just as I do.
It makes sense that a slow life should be hard too.
The conflict in my natures, one to fly,
One to sink. For now the latter wins.
Dissatisfaction, a simple artifact of dreaming.
A girl once young and free,
Now resides within the chains of society.
For the time being I must seek focus,
But am constantly distracted by the ghosts I miss,
People that fell aside as life ploughed on.
All I know is that I miss you, my sunshine,
I never want you to fall out of my sight.
Never set, never fade and please, never burn out.
You’ve seen what I would do for You,
I’m reminded that You always knew.
It’s not about me, it’s all about You
so it matters not what You lead me through.
It matters not what You lead me through
for all of my days are to glorify You.
If to YOUR plan I will stay true,
there’s no telling what I’ll do for You.
Adversity is harnessed and used of You
but those who know this truth are few.
Others think harsh correcting is what You do
but in reality, they just don’t have a clue.
You came that others know what is true,
that they see life from Your point of view.
Then, the life that they never knew
would be there for them because of You.
I see it some times today
looking back on yesterday
When I young
and didn't know better
You always said to me
Remember what you're fighting for
Don't let go there is always
always a fight for tomorrow
I didn't understand these words
When I came home one day
From a fight over nothing
That left me battered and bruised
When my morals were questioned
When I had to make my way through life
When my life had no meaning
When all I did was pick a fight
you said...
You always said to me
remember what you're fighting for
Don't let go, there is always
Always a fight for tomorrow
These weren't pretty words
I never realised how true they were
Until a look up and saw hurt in your eyes
I saw the life you fought for
You always said to me
Remember what you're fighting for
Don't let it go, there is always
Always a fight for tomorrow
Breathing Life
When all about you crumbles
and life becomes a chore,
when despair and desperation
leave you empty to the core.
When there is no point in living
and you wish that you were dead
there is no one that can wake you
from depression’s hopeless bed.
When every straw you grasp at
seems to snap off in your hand
and every step you’re taking
meets with ever shifting sand.
When you soul has sunk to levels
where it’s lost the will feel
it is hard to then distinguish
what is false and what is real.
To seek your resurrection
from this darkness into light
you must struggle for direction
as you rise towards the light.
At first it’s just a glimmer
like the hopefulness of dawn,
but as the sun gets brighter
it will help to keep you warm.
It’s a long and tedious journey
and it never has an end,
but becomes less of a burden
as you stem the downward trend.
Should sadness comes to haunt you
let life wash its waves away
immersing you with feelings
of new hope in every day.
When all about you crumbles
and life becomes a chore,
it takes courage, strength and effort
to make life worth living for.
But when risen from the ashes
like the Phoenix from the Flame
you can once again start breathing
and enjoy your life again.
Ivor G Davies
in my tepory shelter
out in the cold
no one knows what
each knight will unfoled,
you get so hungry
you can allmost hear your stomache cry
when its below zero
your to scared to sleep
incase you die,
you colud maybe find some dry newspappers
to put inside your clothes to try to keep you warm
but even then you still might not make it through until dawn
when you need help the most your not sure if enyone
will come
its not life living in a slum.
by james chtistian please surport the homelss and those living in slum's or
tempare shelters. this year and next i did it for 1 night it was hard enough but
a life time in a slum ' is tough.
When I breath my last and my soul sores through the fabric of reality, time and space,
Upon my accent to eternal life and my final judgment,
As I stand on the pedestal of creation and the lord looks unto me,
And says “WHO ARE YOU?”.
My reply will be this……
"Lord you ask a very interesting question",
My answer will be “Lord, For if you who sees all and hears the very whispers of life,
If you who are present in all past, present and future from beginning to the end,
And if you our creator of all that we perceive, with your infinite knowledge of which
You use to judge me on this, The very day of my reckoning, Do not know who I am,
Then how can I, A mere extract of human flesh freshly born of my soul possibly
Fathom the answer to the question you ask?”
“But… Lord the solution to your question is but very simple,
For if you come and walk with me though eternity as you have through life
And talk of knowledge and wisdom,
And before you rest this very night, pick up the book of my life and read,
For inside the very pages of my tears, my laughter, pain, sorrow, love and joy,
You Lord will find the answers to which you seek.”
Then when my time comes and I am to be judged, And you bellow the words,
“WHO ARE YOU?”,
I will reply, “ My Lord, You who have walked across eternity with me,
You who have not only walked my life but have read the very pages as well,
You who have felt my love, witnessed my wrongs, laughed with my joy and you
Who has cried at my pain, I ask this simple question,
My Lord, In YOUR eyes….
Who Am I ?”.
This poem is dedicated to two very good friends of mine, Paul & Liz,
For without them this poem would not be here today,
Thank you for the inspiration.
The Loving Guilty
Make this choice
End up making another choice
And still feel guilty
About the two
Guilt exists no matter what we do
For the compassionate
Guilt
Is a multi edged knife
No one leads a guiltless life
Faced with decision
Some other outcome
Always is
For someone
A cause of guilt
And we can be guilty
Of not wanting to lead
Or facing the guilt
Of a guilty life
To do one course of action it seems we must
It is impossible to choose
None
For no action has its own reaction
In guilt
All life is guilty
Of making a choice
Between foreseen and unforeseen consequence
Leave one in sorrow
Leave one in happiness
Live one in sorrow
Live one in happiness
Both have their hands tightly clenched
On guilt
Guilt is a wish for perfection
For a perfect solution
Amidst the imperfect forces of choices
We are confronted with
Guilt can be seen in a life un-lived
Or a wasted life that gave up on love
It can be a life so scandalously lived
Or one that fed too much on love
And guilt is the dungeon of every dream
Guilt is the squandered wishing-wells penny
With too much compassion
Your heart can freeze
And then
Guilty
For never having lived
At all
Guilt is a poor appeasement of conscience
That leaves you immobile
Make this choice
End up making another choice
And still feel guilty
About the two
Guilt exists no matter what we do
It is perhaps a great tribute to mankind
That it has to choose between loving
Made guilty
By the necessity of choice
There is no perfect solution
And someone is always going to get hurt
What do we do, what do we choose
Between guilt’s
This course of least resistance
Guilty then
For not having followed
Your heart
Ill at ease
Bacardi and coke,sipping,
Ripping a pal
She smokes a cigar
Feels out of sorts
Full of retorts.
But under the front]
She bears the brunt
She wants to be home.
Her man, so decent
Works hard
So recent.
Reached an understanding
To be non-demanding
Reached a peak
Decided to speak
Discuss the issues
Spare the tissues
It's good, not bad
No more jack-the-lad
He's the sun
He's the one.
Suddenly she knows
In the midst of the show
That she's loved...she feels
That her life is real.
She is a wife
She has a real life
She remembers the times
The nursery rhthmes.
Mama Mia's a blast
But see what will last
It's good to remember, good to dance
But life is real
Life is still a romance.
Form:
She can’t see what’s in front
of her.
She can’t see the life that
she used to know.
The life she once new
was no more in her hands.