The Joy of Incompleteness
If all our life were one broad glare
Of sunlight, clear, unclouded;
If all our path were smooth and fair,
By no soft gloom enshrouded;
If all life's flowers were fully blown
Without the sweet unfolding,
And happiness were rudely thrown
On hands too weak for holding--
Should we not miss the twilight hours,
The gentle haze and sadness?
Should we not long for storms and showers
To break the constant gladness?
If none were sick and none were sad,
What service could we render?
I think if we were always glad,
We scarcely could be tender.
Did our beloved never need
Our patient ministration,
Earth would grow cold and miss indeed
Its sweetest consolation;
If sorrow never claimed our heart,
And every wish were granted,
Patience would die, and hope depart--
Life would be disenchanted.
And yet in heaven is no more night,
In heaven is no more sorrow!
Such unimagined new delight
Fresh grace from pain will borrow.
As the poor seed that underground
Seeks its true life above it,
Not knowing what will there be found
When sunbeams kiss and love it,
So we in darkness upward grow,
And look and long for heaven,
But cannot picture it below
Till more of light be given.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Angel Kiss
We go through life so often,
Not stopping to enjoy the day.
And we take each one for granted,
As we travel on our way.
For in your pain and sorrow,
An Angel's Kiss will help you through,
This kiss is very private,
For it is meant for only you.
We never stop to measure,
Anything we just might miss.
But if the wind should blow by softly,
You'll feel an Angel's Kiss.
A kiss that is sent from heaven,
A kiss from up above
A kiss that is very special,
From someone that you love.
So when, your hearts are heavy,
And filled with tears and pain.
And no one can console you,
Remember once again.
About the ones you grieve for,
Because you sadly miss.
And the gentle breeze you took for granted,
Was just an Angel's Kiss.
poem by Rachel Willcox
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One Year In Heaven
One year in heaven,
One year you've been there,
So far away,
Someday I'll see you in the air,
One year in heaven,
I miss you so much,
Smile down upon me,
And show me your love.
One year in heaven,
It seems like so long,
Since the last time I saw you,
And then you were gone,
One year in heaven,
You left earth to soon,
But I know they need you,
More then I do,
One year in heaven,
I'm alone on the earth,
I miss your sweet kisses,
And all that you're worth,
One year in heaven,
Is God really there?
Why did he take you,
As I cried in despair.
One year in heaven,
I still see your face,
The day that you took,
The last breath you would take,
One year in heaven,
Why did you die,
I know God needed you,
But still I cry.
One year in heaven,
Soon I'll be there,
So wait by the gate,
Please, this do swear,
One year in heaven,
To me it is long,
But you have no pain,
From this earth you have gone.
One year in heaven,
It's so hard to move on,
I'll send you a prayer,
And sing you a song,
One year in heaven,
Life's not the same,
Since you left this world,
I'm living in a daze.
One year in heaven,
You watch from above,
Sit there and smile,
And send me your love,
One year in heaven,
You may think it's just a day,
But this world is so different,
Since God took you away
poem by Michele Weston
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Little Nell
GLEAMING through the silent church-yard,
Winter sunlight seemed to shed
Golden shadows like soft blessings
O'er a quiet little bed,
Where a pale face lay unheeding
Tender tears that o'er it fell;
No sorrow now could touch the heart
Of gentle little Nell.
Ah, with what silent patient strength
The frail form lying there
Had borne its heavy load of grief,
Of loneliness and care.
Now, earthly burdens were laid down,
And on the meek young face
There shone a holier loveliness
Than childhood's simple grace.
Beset with sorrow, pain and fear,
Tempted by want and sin,
With none to guide or counsel her
But the brave child-heart within.
Strong in her fearless, faithful love,
Devoted to the last,
Unfaltering through gloom and gleam
The little wanderer passed.
Hand in hand they journeyed on
Through pathways strange and wild,
The gray-haired, feeble, sin-bowed man
Led by the noble child.
So through the world's dark ways she passed,
Till o'er the church-yard sod,
To the quiet spot where they found rest,
Those little feet had trod.
To that last resting-place on earth
Kind voices bid her come,
There her long wanderings found an end,
And weary Nell a home.
A home whose light and joy she was,
Though on her spirit lay
A solemn sense of coming change,
That deepened day by day.
There in the church-yard, tenderly,
Through quiet summer hours,
Above the poor neglected graves
She planted fragrant flowers.
The dim aisles of the ruined church
Echoed the child's light tread,
And flickering sunbeams thro' the leaves
Shone on her as she read.
And here where a holy silence dwelt,
And golden shadows fell,
When Death's mild face had looked on her,
They laid dear happy Nell.
Long had she wandered o'er the earth,
One hand to the old man given,
By the other angels led her on
Up a sunlit path to Heaven.
Oh! 'patient, loving, noble Nell,'
Like light from sunset skies,
The beauty of thy sinless life
Upon the dark world lies.
On thy sad story, gentle child,
Dim eyes will often dwell,
And loving hearts will cherish long
The memory of Nell.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
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Sing To Me
Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom,
I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom,
I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, -
Sing of the beauty and brightness of life –
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad!
I am so weary, my soul so sad.
All my earth riches are covered with rust,
All my bright dreams are but ashes and dust.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing og the blossoms that open in spring,
How the sweet flowers blow, and the long lichens cling,
Say, though the winter is round about me,
There are bright summers and springs yet to be.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing me a song full of hope and of truth,
Brimming with all the sweet fancies of youth!
Say, though my sorrow I may not forget,
I have not quite done with happiness yet.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Lay your soft fingers just here, on my cheek;
Turn the light lower – there- no, do not speak,
But sing! My heart thrills at your beautiful voice;
Sing till I turn from my grief and rejoice.
Sing to me, sing to me!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Prayer of Flowers
Behind the flowers an angel sings
Every hour showers what life brings
Be patient my friends and grow
Love always shows the way home
Earth kisses flowers of sky blue
Joy is a gift in the soul of the true
Bring your smiles of gentle hope
May all your heart be known
May all your dreams like flowers grow
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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My sister sorrow
that my tears would bring
healing to you
on the morning's brow
hanging on fragile
but steely
ropes of hope
and I will cry for you
till your night
is fully soaked
so let me fall down
in your darkness
let me share
your hours of salt
and water your
sister sorrow
for leprous moments
your pain I borrow
float with me
on clear tear streams
let me be the boat
that carries you
to healing hills
my sister you sow
my life in your pain
and therein a new day
for both of us will grow
What I Miss About Heaven
Mama always said love is like heaven
Holdin' hands in church and prayin' together
Late night talks and morning walks
But I don't remember all that innocent stuff
What I can't forget is the feel of your touch
I guess I ain't no angel, but you gave me a reason to sing
To have you back in my life again, I would trade all silver rings
So forgive me for the cold hard truth
The only thing about heaven I miss is you
We run out of time and things to say
But I find any old excuse to make you stay
One little thing we did just right
Now it takes all night, to shake you from my memory,
I toss and turn in my empty bed, trying to break free
I guess I ain't no angel, but you gave me a reason to sing
To have you back in my life again, I would trade all silver rings
So forgive me for the cold hard truth
The only thing about heaven I miss is you
The only thing about heaven I miss is the backseat, summer night, hilltop kiss
I ain't ashamed to admit that this is the only thing I miss
The only thing about heaven I miss is the backseat, summer night, hilltop kiss
I ain't ashamed to admit that this is the only thing I miss
I guess I ain't no angel, but you gave me a reason to sing
To have you back in my life again, I would trade all silver rings
So forgive me for the cold hard truth
The only thing about heaven I miss
The only thing about heaven I miss is you
song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The New Moon
When, as the garish day is done,
Heaven burns with the descended sun,
'Tis passing sweet to mark,
Amid that flush of crimson light,
The new moon's modest bow grow bright,
As earth and sky grow dark.
Few are the hearts too cold to feel
A thrill of gladness o'er them steal,
When first the wandering eye
Sees faintly, in the evening blaze,
That glimmering curve of tender rays
Just planted in the sky.
The sight of that young crescent brings
Thoughts of all fair and youthful things
The hopes of early years;
And childhood's purity and grace,
And joys that like a rainbow chase
The passing shower of tears.
The captive yields him to the dream
Of freedom, when that virgin beam
Comes out upon the air:
And painfully the sick man tries
To fix his dim and burning eyes
On the soft promise there.
Most welcome to the lover's sight,
Glitters that pure, emerging light;
For prattling poets say,
That sweetest is the lovers' walk,
And tenderest is their murmured talk,
Beneath its gentle ray.
And there do graver men behold
A type of errors, loved of old,
Forsaken and forgiven;
And thoughts and wishes not of earth,
Just opening in their early birth,
Like that new light in heaven.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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The Dead Child
ALL silent is the room,
There is no stir of breath,
Save mine, as in the gloom
I sit alone with Death.
Short life it had, the sweet,
Small babe here lying dead,
With tapers at its feet
And tapers at its head.
Dear little hands, too frail
Their grasp on life to hold;
Dear little mouth so pale,
So solemn, and so cold;
Small feet that nevermore
About the house shall run;
Thy little life is o’er!
Thy little journey done!
Sweet infant, dead too soon,
Thou shalt no more behold
The face of sun or moon,
Or starlight clear and cold;
Nor know, where thou art gone,
The mournfulness and mirth
We know who dwell upon
This sad, glad, mad, old earth.
The foolish hopes and fond
That cheat us to the last
Thou shalt not feel; beyond
All these things thou hast passed.
The struggles that upraise
The soul by slow degrees
To God, through weary days—
Thou hast no part in these.
And at thy childish play
Shall we, O little one,
No more behold thee? Nay,
No more beneath the sun.
Death’s sword may well be bared
’Gainst those grown old in strife,
But, ah! it might have spared
Thy little unlived life.
Why talk as in despair?
Just God, whose rod I kiss,
Did not make thee so fair
To end thy life at this.
There is some pleasant shore—
Far from His Heaven of Pride,
Where those strong souls who bore
His Cross in bliss abide—
Some place where feeble things,
For Life’s long war too weak,
Young birds with unfledged wings,
Buds nipped by storm-winds bleak,
Young lambs left all forlorn
Beneath a bitter sky,
Meek souls to sorrow born,
Find refuge when they die.
There day is one long dawn,
And from the cups of flowers
Light dew-filled clouds updrawn
Rain soft and perfumed showers.
Child Jesus walketh there
Amidst child-angel bands,
With smiling lips, and fair
White roses in His hands.
I kiss thee on the brow,
I kiss thee on the eyes—
Farewell! Thy home is now
The Children’s Paradise.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Think Of Me
Think of me, when 'mid joy and gladness
They bark glides smoothly down life's tranquil stream.
When thy life, free from care or sadness,
Is calm and peaceful as a summer dream.
Think of me, though thy path be dreary,
Though care and sorrow may thy life enshroud;
When crushed hopes make the heart grow weary
And life seems darkened by a wintry cloud.
Think of me, let thy heart grow kinder
In summer's sunshine or in winter's gloom,
Think of me, when thy sole reminder
Is but the shadow of my silent tomb.
poem by Thomas E. Spencer
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Our Final Destination Is With God
What purpose is there
To live in darkness,
To make one’s life dark
Or to accept darkness?
A life void of love
Or generosity,
A life of petty pursuits
That fail to enrich another,
This is darkness.
A life that refuses
To accept the love
Of God or humans,
This is the ultimate
Extreme darkness.
When a person finds love
From the universe and for the universe,
There is a light that radiates within
For everyone else to see and feel;
When a human being views a flower
Or a sunrise, when he sees a small bird at dawn
And feels the rush of spiritual promise that says
The world is meaningful and beautiful
And sometimes kind, this is a powerful light.
Suffering and death are forms
Of unavoidable darkness,
An intense darkness that can crush a spirit
That fails to contrast the sadness with the joy,
The sorrow with the laughter,
The goodbyes with the hellos in life.
We must walk the line between darkness and light,
Between loneliness and happiness
Knowing our final destination is with God
Which is the victory of light over the darkness.
Divine Sunlight Rays of hope,
Nurture the light within us to always increase
And shine upon others with the promise
That every struggle can be overcome
And every battle against the heart or soul can be won,
May we live to know love and to share love,
May we be examples of the divine nature
Which is ever to uplift with kindness
And to bring the kingdom of heaven to earth.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Pondering My Real Home
At home is where I long to be, up in Heaven, through eternity,
Far above the celestial dome, in Heaven, up in my real home,
In that Mansion prepared for me, right beside the Crystal Sea,
Only passing through this place, going home by God's Grace.
I'm currently here in God's design, living life in temporal time,
But, while on this present earth, I experienced a spiritual birth,
Born Again, by The Spirit of God, given direction on this sod,
His new direction and destiny, that points me well into eternity.
Given, by Christ, a new heart, on God's agenda, until I depart,
Working for God here on earth, in His service of eternal worth,
Looking ahead to Heaven friend, as this life comes to an end,
With a beginning beyond this world, in an eternity yet unfurled.
Although I long to be home, still here I remain, yet not to roam,
But to be used in my earthly life, in the service of Jesus Christ,
To be a witness and a herald, of Good News, into all the world,
Sharing God's Truth of salvation, with all men in this generation.
With my journey directed by, my Lord God, Who reigns on high,
Directing my path as He chooses, as my life for Christ He uses,
While longing for home, I impart, God's Gospel, before I depart,
To be with God forevermore, in a home upon that Eternal Shore.
(Copyright ©11/2012)
Compensation
In that new world toward which our feet are set,
Shall we find aught to make our hearts forget
Earth's homely joys and her bright hours of bliss?
Has heaven a spell divine enough for this?
For who the pleasure of the spring shall tell
When on the leafless stalk the brown buds swell,
When the grass brightens and the days grow long,
And little birds break out in rippling song?
O sweet the dropping eve, the blush of morn,
The starlit sky, the rustling fields of corn,
The soft airs blowing from the freshening seas,
The sunflecked shadow of the stately trees,
The mellow thunder and the lulling rain,
The warm, delicious, happy summer rain,
When the grass brightens and the days grow long,
And little birds break out in rippling song!
O beauty manifold, from morn till night,
Dawn's flush, noon's blaze and sunset's tender light!
O fair, familiar features, changes sweet
Of her revolving seasons, storm and sleet
And golden calm, as slow she wheels through space,
From snow to roses, - and how dear her face,
When the grass brightens, when the days grow long,
And little birds break out in rippling song!
O happy earth! O home so well beloved!
What recompense have we, from thee removed?
One hope we have that overtops the whole, -
The hope of finding every vanished soul,
We love and long for daily, and for this
Gladly we turn from thee, and all thy bliss,
Even at thy loveliest, when the days are long,
And little birds break out in rippling song.
poem by Celia Thaxter
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Why Live? Why Care? - 0781 - Initial Verion
Life for me's a blossom spray,
or brooch upon a happy heart
which sparkles when flirtations start,
whose fire can never fade away.
Life's a magic mantle, ray
that song, sadness may impart,
a poem easing pain and smart,
a coloured coat that's never grey.
Life offers something fresh each day.
Though sorrow sometimes friends may part
soon pains forgotten are, we chart
delight whose light pipes cares away
Why live? Why care?
just give, take, share.
Life's like a mirage - men do pray
for Heaven, yet thence daren't depart
Is Earth Hell's, Heaven's counterpart?
What dreams may follow on life's fray?
Life's a pot tu[r]ned in fine clay,
sand castle serving as rampart
'gainst Time 'til tide urns each upstart.
Who pot, who potter is, who'll say?
Life's a lass who everyday
undressed is as each p[l]ays a part,
when naked, untouched by art,
she still seeks to prolong her stay.
Why live? - Why care?
just give, take, share.
Life's like sea breezes fresh and gay
which none control, can take apart,
cake which we would bake à la carte
but which too soon's burnt anyway.
Life blooms a moment so make hay,
Time every moment steals a part,
each year upsets the applecart
'til eyes stay closed at break of day.
Life's stream swift flows from spring to bay
it waters rose and thorn, does dart
here, there, until the final fart
blows all eternity away.
Why live? - Why care?
before you leave give, share.
(10 October 1995)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Touch Of Heaven
All creation is burdened by sin
And softness is really quite hard
What we feel as gentle and light
Heaven reveals all has been marred.
For in heaven flowers are ethereal
With petals like gossamer wings
Their fragrance is as Holy incense
Drifting upward to God it sings.
The gardens of Earth may have beauty
But in heaven they cannot compare
Whose flowers are as jewels within silver
For the river of life doth flow there.
The streets of heaven are golden
Yet a gold that is crystal clear
And a sinner cannot walk upon them
For no footprint can ever come near.
The saints walk in pastures so green
In each bosom there is a white stone;
And they take their repose in the shade
Of the shadow that's cast by God's throne.
Yes, there is nothing on Earth that is soft
To us things just, seem to be;
But in heaven all things are of Spirit
Sometimes those things I can see.
poem by Richard Merrell
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Hell Or Heaven
Mama used to say to me
You can make your destiny
Keep your feet planted on the ground
You can always get it back
Make a castle from a one room shack
It's what you make of what you've found
Son you're gonna find out when you're older
There's always been the hand of God
Resting right there on your shoulder
Will it be hell or heaven on Earth
The choice is up to you
Look to the sky, the answer is clear
Are you gonna live life for all it's worth
Choose hell or heaven on Earth
If you live it right
There's nothing to fear
'Cause you'll find heaven right here
Saw a man the other day
Had it made in every way
Till his greed brought him down
He was blinded by the city lights
Now he shivers in the cold at night
Who will save the lifeguard
When he's about to drown
Will it be hell or heaven on Earth
The choice is up to you
Look to the sky, the answer is clear
Are you gonna live life for all it's worth
Choose hell or heaven on Earth
If you live it right
There's nothing to fear
'Cause you'll find heaven right here
You know you're gonna walk on through the fire
You know you're gonna feel the pain
You know you're gonna lose if you wanna win the game
And every time your heart is breakin'
And every time your faith is shaken
Just remember what mama said
Oh yeah
Hope when my time has come
I'm left enough to build upon
Ain't no one gonna say I didn't try
And here's why
Hell or heaven on Earth
The choice is up to you
Look to the sky, the answer is clear
Are you gonna live life for all it's worth
Choose hell or heaven on Earth
If you live it right
There's nothing to fear
'Cause you'll find heaven right here
You'll find heaven right here (x3)
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh that it were possible
Oh that it were possible
After long grief and pain
You walk in the path of amiable
Innocence and repentance plain
And your bare sole
Will touch the field scudding chaffs
The meadow wheat elongated spikes will dagger your soul
And the wind will blow your skirt in halves
A throng of persistent rain drops caress
Your neck, your shoulders and your fresh head
And as you walk wet and soaked and careless
You shall see the vermillion canopy of dawn’s shade
And you stand breast high amid gilded wheat field
Clasped by the golden light of a bright morning yield
Like a sweet creature a beloved of the sun
You draw many glowing kisses like one
And you rush brushing ankle-high in a sea of flowers
And you hear the wind behind playing in thousands waves of golden wheat
And you breath nostrils wide the field sweet
As the cows thick with milk and the buzzing bees honey your hour
Tranquility and calm will extend within thee newly bred
As a ray of dusk breaks through the edge of a dark cloud
And you will be free from scalp to sole of any doubt
Like a bird in the sky your soul will fly without a dread
And you shall smell the fresh cut field’s furrows
As your breath grows calm as a nun
And you will watch the waning sun
In the mirror of a puddle wrapped in golden rows
And things turn so simple and apparent in life
Calm without a struggle or the din of a strife
And you can touch, and you can live under secure heaven above
And you can love! And you can love! And you can love!
Oh that it were possible
After long grief and pain
You walk in the path of freedom lane
Untouched by scourging fire along or by storms of evil
And you fall into innocence and repentance plain
And the divine spirit will canopy your life a whole
And you will be shy and innocent again
Like a lawn; like a lea; like a new born soul
Oh that it were possible
After long grief and pain
You walk wandering towards your beauteous hours
When summer haze hangs over short simmering showers
To be welcomed by lush grass and sprouting flowers
And you wonder in peace while you pace along
As the fields and woods are full with whisper and song
And shall be without a slough, a crust of sin or any other touch of wrong
And you shall stay away from the basest of mankind
Debark and astray from them with a clear mind
And let them be who harm you all these years
For them you shade no vows; from them withhold your tears
Let them keep battering the gates of heaven with fruitless pray
“Have mercy Lord, Take my flaws away”
Oh that it were possible
After long grief and pain
From this fearful thing you abstain
Of glancing back at the gloom of miss-spent years
When your heart sweats and weeps with a thousand tears
And you shall forgive these wild wandering cries
Confusions of wasted years; a beam of hope breaks through
Portrayed in shapes and shades of feeling of yearning true
To illuminate your night of darkness and to cheer your aching eyes
Oh that it were possible
After long grief and pain
You walk these pastures after rain
A pleasant gale urging breaks behind
And bruit your song to the very creatures in the grass down
Rain drops aflutter with gentle wind
Will fall on your goddess like shape gown
And on the wilding brooch of your dress
From which gilded drops fall on your breast
And you break forth from all past enslaving love
And you adore the freedom bestowed from heaven above
Oh that it were possible
After long grief and pain
You bridge back the river of your youth's years
To the first fountain of innocent love smiles and tears
And you would not trace again the stream of human lukewarm hours
Between outworn banks of life withered flowers
Nor shall you bid your time flow until it ripples and glides
Into number of meaningless nameless love wavelets tides
copy rights 2010
My Heaven Falling In On Me
Its My Heaven Falling In On Me. A Sick Sensation. A Child Thrown Into The Real World. No Time For Fun. Your Life Has Already Begun. Holding Others Up Above Your Shoulders. Do What You Have To Do. Its Cold Outside, But Somehow We Must Still Survive. Were Starving And Cant Afford Food, But Still We Must Survive. Living The Best We Can Is All We Ever Can. Anger Rise Inside Their Eyes, And They Ask Why Have You Done This Too Me. Oh Why, Why Is It My Heaven Is Fallen In On Me. A Sick Sensation. Can't Make One Mistake. Its A Life Or Death Sentence. Accomplishments Mean Nothing. As They Always Have. Blame Anyone And Everyone. But Still The Fault Is Ultimately Our Own. The Seedling Must Be Watered Before It Can Be Grown. Life Can Be Taken Away As Easily As Its Given So Never Forget It. Everything Is Lesson, And This Is The Age Wisdom For Me. Even As My Heaven Is Falling In On Me. I Cant Stop Any Of It. Only Better Myself Because Of It. Make Friends Of Fortune. Make Friends Of Hurt And Pain. That's The Way I Must Survive. For Love Is The Only Answer To This Cancer. So Let My Heaven Fall On Me. I'll Hold It Up As Long As I Can. And Just Maybe I Wont Be The Only One There. In My Time Of Despair. Do What You Have To Do. Turn A Blind If You Must. But I Will Not. Because You Just Never Know.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To H.a.b. On My Forty-seventh Birthday
WHEN one is forty years and seven,
Is seven and forty sad years old,
He looks not onward for his Heaven,
The future is too blank and cold,
Its pale flowers smell of graveyard mould;
He looks back to his lifeful past;
If age is silver, youth is gold:-
Could youth but last, could youth but last!
He turns back toward his youthful past
A-throb with life and love and hope,
Whose long-dead joys in memory last,
Whose shining days had ample scope;
He turns and lingers on the slope
Whose dusk leads down to sightless death:-
The sun once crowned that darkening cope,
And song once thrilled this weary breath.
Ali, he plods wearily to death,
Adown the gloaming into night,
But other lives breathe joyous breath
In morning's boundless golden light;
Their feet are swift, their eyes are bright,
Their hearts beat rhythms of hope and love,
Their being is a pure delight
In earth below and heaven above.
And you have hope and joy and love,
And you have youth's abounding life,
Whose crystal currents flow above
The stones and sands of care and strife.
May all your years with joys be rifc,
May you grow calmly to your prime,
A maiden sweet, a cherished wife,
A happy mother in due time.
All good you wish me, past my prime,
I wish with better hope to you,
And richer blessings than old Time
And Fate or Fortune found my due:
For you are kind and good and true,
And so when you are forty-seven
May spouse and children in your view
Make Home the happiest life-long Heaven.
poem by James Thomson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sorrow Makes One A Hero Tomorrow
Without sorrow life is zero
We must accept fate's arrow
If our efforts are thorough
Our sorrow, God will borrow
Sorrows nicely shape our mind
Sorrows stop our being blind
Via sorrows, remedies we find
Sorrows are indirectly kind
In the absence of sorrow
Our mind does not grow
We think not like a hero
Our attitude is made narrow
Sorrows must be overcome
For which efforts we welcome
At last strong we become
This is sorrows' outcome
Our will-power, sorrows increase
To our heart, sorrows supply grease
Our talents, only sorrows release
In a gist, sorrows supply peace
Every sorrow at last dies
Not because of our cries
But because our soul tries
Life and success, sorrow ties
Sorrow less person is none
Sorrow is sure, if life has begun
'Sorrow trains brains' is a slogan
Sorrow is a tamable dragon
In sorrow, all must dip
By coming under its grip
All are lashed by sorrow's whip
To every life, sorrow makes a trip
Now sorrow will somehow vanish
But you cannot fully relinquish
Further sorrows, time will furnish
From life, sorrow, none can banish
Life and sorrow are closely associated
By life, sorrow is very much fascinated
By sorrow, peace is initially confiscated
Sorrow grows when life is sophisticated.
poem by Mailrangam Visvanathan Venkataraman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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