Go To Poems - Poems about Go To

Ain’t Gonna Go To Hell For Anybody by Dylan I find your lines like wine Making me drunk with love You toy with my mind And I’m infatuated enough But when I think about it I cool off and pray with faith Sex and lust is lousy If you don’t love me God’s way It’s better to marry Than to burn like fire Real love...

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Two best of friends met in a place where most animals go afterlife. Ballyregan: "I run all my life... until I retired." Scurlogue: "I've won many races, but I had one race where I ran back and not finish the race." Ballyregan: "Why?" Scurlogue: "Because I wanted you to win!"...

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We stopped laughing the way we used to do, The “I love you’s” started feeling untrue. I saw the cracks before they spread too wide, So I broke my own heart — just to protect your side. I watched us fade while screaming inside, Like drowning slow with no place to hide. So I shattered the...

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Kernels popped in olive oil, Butter-drizzled and tossed with salt or Parmesan or candied as balls! Versatile delight in puffs of white! ...

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MAY YOU GO TO THE LAND OF PEACE, WHERE EVERYTHING IS FORGOTTEN AND ALL IS REMEMBERED MAY YOU GO TO THAT SPECIAL...

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Foggy morning Affect my heart And feel the cold. Start my day I walk a mile To get warm up. The sun is up I take a bath Ready for work. Side of the road I wait for bus To get to work....

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the blood ties, those ropes around the neck, they don't strangle, they just tug and tug till you can't breathe right. they call it love, but it's a slow poison, each word, each glance dripping venom, soft as a smile, sharp as a blade. you stand there, the man of the house, fighting shadows that don't die, smiling at the lies that pass for truth. how far should a man go? as...

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Where the children go to play Is where the summer grass endures And sunbeams - like a cascade - Pour down upon their bronze shoulders. This - the children have learned well: Butterflies don't really flutter - Instead - they dance a sky waltz To the cicadas' fond clamor. Every breeze...

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they don’t wait in lines don’t knock on doors don’t ask for permission to come inside they just run full speed through golden fields paws never knowing ache again tongues hanging loose, catching the wind like they never stopped chasing the sky when dogs go to heaven they don’t cry at the gates don’t bow their heads don’t beg for a place to rest they just find...

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Where Do Elephants Go To Die ? I have seen them in my dreams, moving like shadows across the long green grasses, their great heads nodding in silent reverence to the world that made them. The rivers, the mountains, the endless sky—once their kingdom, now their grave. They walk with wisdom beyond our own, knowing joys we have long...

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I love you my dear especially when you're near you always seem to make my head feel clear I hate you, you traitor you left me in fear you were gone so long that I drank five cases of beer I'm so in love with you please don't leave truly I'll do anything to make you stay I beg of you please I wish...

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Decades a midwife a definer of rights written so patients And authoritys both knew their plights.' Un-jabbed 2020 up Till today, yet prosecuted by N Z jacinda aderns machine which stated She had to pay? They tried to bully and really every sick trick.' Even forgery of her signature, i think they were a bit thick? Well...

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Each moment falls like petals from the rose, A fleeting scent the evening breeze may keep. Each death I die, the door swings closed, And still I dream in shadows deep. The past dissolves like dew in morning light, Its whispers fading, lost among the trees. No tether holds me back, no tether binds, I drift, unmoored, where endless seas release. The present...

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I go to church each Sunday, God warns ‘there’s much to fear, the world is decomposing, the final end is near’. I go to church each Sunday and taste the wine and bread, though elsewhere on our globus raw hunger reigns instead. I go to church each Sunday, hear preachers’ words rebuff repentant pauper’s pleading ‘enough is not enough’. I go to church each Sunday, watch candles burning...

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My dearest friend, What an ache it is to write to you, knowing my pain, knowing how my mortal body falters beneath the weight of its trials. My words, though steeped in suffering, ring like a low bell in the evening—melancholy but beautiful, laced with the music of a soul nearing the sea's eternal shore. Where should I...

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