Long Facts of life Poems
Long Facts of life Poems. Below are the most popular long Facts of life by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Facts of life poems by poem length and keyword.
The hardest part's not growing up,
It's growing old.
The toughest part's not facing life,
It's facing facts.
Life's path is not the same for all,
If truth be told,
Some lives are lived in words
And some in acts.
Life's a play and we the players,
The world's our stage
And parts are purely improvised.
No lines to learn,
The plot unfolds as we proceed
From page to page
Making entrances and exits
Each in its turn.
How long the show we're in will run,
No one can say.
We perform and execute our parts
As best we can.
And when we reach the final scene
That ends the play,
The final fact we'll face will be
How well it ran.
Life is all about living, never always it's about money.
May be for a few it's about money, but not for every one
Some times life is all about power, for some people it's all about position.
For many people in the society life is all about living, getting their bread and butter.
No body can define life because it's an individual style of living, his, her goals, idealogy, ambitions never same for everyone who live in the society.
Life is all about living because we are all living organisms, part of nature who have come on to this planet to live for few days.
Life is all about living
It's never about chasing currency
It's never about power, position
It's all about living.
Hope all the human being on planet earth live their life, love their life.
For few it's all about money
For many it's all about bread and butter
For some it's all about their position, power, protection.
For a few it's all about looking, following others
It's never the same for everyone
But for all as we are living organisms it's all about living.
"Please turn off the blinding lights"
Must close my eyes to see the brightness of my future.
My today's reality dims the spirit of the hunt.
Overcasting shadows and shaded grays of life's blunders;
of many passions, many desires, and many shall-not-wants.
Cannot dread what madness awakes with the rising sun.
Early birds catching worms; the hustle and bustles of rush hour traffic.
Of life keeping me on the run; a rat race full of chaos and havoc.
Challenging games of lady luck; trying to turn a quarter into a buck.
Dipping into what we call... "White Magic".
Yet I'm full of hope and answered prayers, my life's a blessing I cannot complain.
Even though another day, another half dollar, another of the same.
Rolling with the punches, turning cheeks, to do or die__are noted statements and claims to fame.
They are merely facts of life and nothing to be glorified or blamed.
Far down deep in the darkness of my mind__ illuminating brightness of my visions.
Tasting the sweetness of success. I shall drink of it from a golden cup.
Not of the dreams I won't ever give up, but of my many decisions.
There, I dance the jig on star studded stages__ with standing ovations;
to the sounds of silence and in dark illuminations.
...................................{Man's Forsaken Earth}
Angels cry for my Sister for she grieves from beyond meaning.
Witnesses of "the-monsters-of-the-minds" constant scheming.
Monsters forged from memories etched during youthful days unwise.
All tricks of emotional fears and feelings of evil plans devised.
When there's no one to shine light in darkness, horrible shadows tarry.
Eerie uneasiness to haunt and taunt, and fill virgin souls with worry.
The weight of the world causes us to undertake common laws to abide.
To forsake the children given us, and not have them by our side.
To protect them from all harmfulness, and calm their jittery nerves.
To cuddle, hug, and kiss with love; all that they deserve.
Yea, we are forced to turn toward everything else on man's forsaken earth.
Obliged to leave them in the care of others from the very moment of birth.
To work our souls from dusk to dawn for all we think is worth.
To acquire the riches of fort Knox or half its equal girth.
Just to give them simple things; as only to live and play.
That now takes most Moms and Dads to work hard every day.
Angels cry for all the babies snatched from loving arms.
Those compelled to go through life without all its finer charms.
It's not the fault of he or she or any single being.
But powers of the misunderstood, unknowledgeable blinded unseeing.
They say it's a reason for all things, but we mostly don't know why.
I'm told all secrets will reveal themselves, on the day that we die.
We are not to questions the facts of life; can't say that this is true.
But until it is all over with; what else are we to do.
Why has our innocence toyed with until we are bitter, sick, and ill?
And of all the efforts to stop this fate, sadly it's happening still.
When I think of all the wounded spirits gone awry and left to fly__
around the earth... at heaven's gates; I join the Angels to cry.
~~~When you have angels on your side, you have everything! Sis~~~
The facts of life, O birds and bees,
how getting aroused, can trigger a sneeze,
Weird as it seems, science explains,
this behavior’s no contagious disease,
Apparently nasal erectile tissue,
caused this quirk during evolution,
Was used to discern erotic pheromones,
isn’t that a nice upstanding resolution,
Autonomic reflex gets overloaded,
in which we have no control,
If you have a secret admirer,
an Achoo! could betray their goal,
Now I’ve opened Pandora’s box,
let the cat out of the bag,
Instead of social distancing,
sneezes might encourage a shack,
This poem has some side effects,
even strange permutations,
God bless you! never be the same again,
could construe carnal allegations,
Strange this evolutionary mixup,
is still embedded in our genes,
Contemporary signals of interest,
usually belay bulging jeans,
I’m going out on a limb here,
for better no definitely worse,
Did we humans in our primeval past,
grunt prelingual dirty words,
So many questions surround,
basic instincts of procreation,
Least of which erogenous zones,
are open to interpretation,
Like whispering sweet nothings,
a turn on, in each other’s ears,
Call out the ex’s name by mistake,
your lusty night might end in tears,
So if dressing up like Snow White,
and think someones getting sleazy,
Take it easy on the small guy,
he may just be acting out sneezy.
By
David Kavanagh
It’s not just bricks and mortar
Nor a distant memory
But the ground roots of our livelihood
And our future destiny.
As this place prepares to close
When the final bell will sound
To mark the end of education
On these few acres of ground
So as the winds of change
Whistle down St Andrews Street
Time to take a look behind
Before it beats the last retreat....
To days when health and safety
Had not bound us up in rules
When “clackers”, “chinas”, “conkers”
Were all the rage in schools.
Chocolate crunch with strawberry custard
Was “ haute cuisine” at dinners
And monitors patrolled the room
Catching non-veg eating sinners !
Then there were school productions
That often caused a rumpus
I was told I didn’t look fierce enough
As a pirate in Columbus
It’s where I learnt the facts of life
Red faced at every showing
We gathered in the dining hall
To watch “living and growing”.
Girls in groups around the field
Playing games with white elastic
Or spinning tubes around their heads
Making noises quite fantastic
And on those heady summer days
In the shade of orchard trees,
I’d have my packed lunch and my drink
Smelling hops upon the breeze.
Groups of boys in mass migration,
Was quite a common sight ,
Swarming like bees round honey
To the battle cry of “fight!”
“Top cat” was on the telly
And so was “ Hong Kong Fooey”
We all brought board games into school
On the feast day of St Louis
Queuing up in tennis courts
Then marching to assembly,
I doubt they had such crowd control
For the FA cup at Wembley.
The changing rooms down by the pool
Were not far from the gym,
Where ropes and box and benches
Were designed to do you in.
Bassets sherbet from the tuck shop
A treat beyond belief
Matched only by the popping
Of “space rocks” on your teeth
So when the corridors are empty
And the babbling voices still,
Theses echoes and these memories
Shall future musings fill .....
For it’s not just bricks and mortar
Not just a place to swat and cram
It’s where the building blocks of selfhood
Turn the boy into a man.
A little light lesson in some facts of life, if you have a just a moment or two
The buffalo herd can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo, you know that is true
When the herd is hunted the weakest at the back are tragically killed off first
This selection is good for the herd, except the slow buffalo, this news is the worst.
It’s good for the herd because the speed and health of the group can then grow
By killing of the weakest and sickly ones that normally would keep the herd slow
It is much the same with man we find the similar principles apply
The human brain can operate, only as fast as the slowest brain cells can fly.
Excessive intake of alcohol, we know attacks and kills the brain cells first
But naturally as in the buffalo the weakest and slowest come off the worst.
The theory behind this is, regular consumption of alcohol eliminate cells that are weak
Making the brain a faster more efficient machine, growing week by week.
That why you always feel smarter and faster after a few alcoholic drinks
So you find that drinking is good for you, contrary to what everybody thinks.
Have one on me and “A Happy New Year to you all”
© 26/12/2012
Chapter one we met because of a twist of fate
Then we got together for our first date
As time went on your lack of presence I did miss
Then finally we had our first kiss
I love you very much so you don’t ever have to worry
Because you’re on every page off my life story
Chapter two as time went on the bond grew with us and we finally wed
We moved in together and naturally shared our bed
Now that we were together there was no place else to roam
So we planted deep roots and got ourselves a happy home
I love you very much so you don’t ever have to worry
Because you’re on every page off my life story
Chapter three and we are still as close as ever you’re a bright star that shines for
me
But then you told me you were with child now were starting a new family
Boy or girl that doesn’t matter as long as it’s born healthy
You’ve made me proud to be to be your man I’m as happy as can be
I love you very much so you don’t ever have to worry
Because you’re on every page off my life story
Chapter four and the kids have grown up now we put them through the schools
Taught them the facts of life and made sure they obeyed the rules
Now its time for us to share special moments like we did before
I can’t wait to see what the rest of our marriage is like and what life has got in store
("A Question of Balance", 2019, original encaustic)
An Unbalanced Equation
My wife is in the middle of her cataract procedure,
One eye done and another to go.
Generally, it’s a remarkable thing
Which we take for granted -
Both our sight and the technology to repair it.
I think of the doctor doing her surgery
How he helps hundreds a year
And tens of thousands in his career.
And the machine's inventor and manufacturer
Who help millions
Then compare this degree of benefit
To those among us who do nothing positive
And those who do plenty negative.
There’s no comparison
Yet we’re told by the scolds
That everyone is equal
When it’s obvious to even the simplest
That we’re not.
These are the simple facts of life
We’re not all equal
Nor of equal worth
And in a just world this is recognized
With either reward or punishment
We live in such a just world
But only just.
It’s a world in flux
Always a little out of balance
As it spins on its tilted wobbly axis.
And as bad as that may seem
It’s exactly as it should be.
Life after all isn’t at all about a static state
Nor so much about balance itself
As the harmony that comes
From balancing the conflicts and contradictions
Our wobbly tilted spinning way brings.
This is our first conscious lesson in life after all,
That walking is a series of controlled falls
And that running, hopping and jumping are fun
And that the way forward
Can only come from trying and failing
Getting up and trying again.
We do this enough,
Surrounded by enough different others
And we discover the harmony
The imbalance holds.
(8/16/24)
Things usually turn out right
if you’re not scared to be wrong,
forget the facts of life
or the tried and trusted song.
The way that others take
or the way that’s ‘meant’ for me
is really only show,
to prove what I ‘should’ be.
My heart is in my mind,
there’s naught that I can’t do,
if only I’ve the will
to stay and see it through.
Life’s full of bad mistakes
and most of them are mine,
but doing what ‘I’ do
things normally turn out fine.
So be true to your soul,
don’t go the way you ’must’.
Just follow where ‘you’ feel
the path is true and just.
Yes… folk ‘will’ bar your way
and prove that you are wrong,
just learn to dodge and sway
For ‘gentleness’ is strong.
The ‘measure of a man’
is not in Pounds and Pence,
nor even in the height
He’s reached upon the fence.
The ‘measure of a man’
is not his weight in gold,
but in the fruits he bore
and the messages he sold.
Be scared to make mistakes
and fear what others see
and soon you’ll realize
it’s a long way down the tree.
But set your roots in ground
buried deep within your heart
and from ‘your path’ in life
you never will depart.
For following your path
you write your own true song,
accept you’ll miss some notes
and may just get it wrong.
So cherish your mistakes
and learn along the way,
it’s you that makes the man
not ‘just what others say’.
Things usually turn out right
if you’re not scared to be wrong,
but even if they don’t…
it’s you who wrote the song!
Ivor G Davies