An Old Vagabond
HE was old and alone, and he sat on a stone to rest for awhile from the road:
His beard was white, and his eye was bright, and his wrinkles overflowed
With a mild content at the way life went; and I closed the book on my knee:
'I will venture a look in this living book,' I thought, as he greeted me.
And I said: ' My friend, have you time to spend to tell me what makes you glad?'
'Oh, ay, my lad,' with a smile; 'I'm glad that I'm old, yet am never sad!'
'But why?' said I; and his merry eye made answer as much as his tongue;
'Because,' said he, 'I am poor and free who was rich and a slave when young.
There is naught but age can allay the rage of the passions that rule men's lives;
And a man to be free must a poor man be, for unhappy is he who thrives:
He fears for his ventures, his rents and debentures, his crops, and his son, and his wife;
His dignity's slighted when he's not invited; he fears every day of his life.
But the man who is poor, and by age has grown sure that there are no surprises in years,
Who knows that to have is no joy, nor to save, and who opens his eyes and his ears
To the world as it is, and the part of it his, and who says: They are happy, these birds,
Yet they live day by day in improvident way—improvident? What were the words
Of the Teacher who taught that the field-lilies brought the lesson of life to a man?
Can we better the thing that is school-less, or sing more of love than the nightingale can?
See that rabbit—what feature in that pretty creature needs science or culture or care?
Send this dog to a college and stuff him with knowledge, will it add to the warmth of his hair?
Why should mankind, apart, turn from Nature to Art, and declare the exchange better-planned?
I prefer to trust God for my living than plod for my bread at a master's hand,
A man's higher being is knowing and seeing, not having and toiling for more;
In the senses and soul is the joy of control, not in pride or luxurious store.
Yet my needs are the same as the kingling's whose name is a terror to thousands: some bread,
Some water and milk,—I can do without silk,—some wool, and a roof for my head.
What more is possest that will stand the grim test of death's verdict? What riches remain
To give joy at the last, all the vanities past?—Ay, ay, that's the word—they are vain
And vexatious of spirit to all who inherit belief in the world and its ways.
And so, old and alone, sitting here on a stone, I smile with the birds at the days.'
And I thanked him, and went to my study, head bent, where I laid down my book on its shelf;
And that day all the page that I read was my age, and my wants, and my joys, and myself.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Related quotes
Contentment
Bed and bread are all I need
In my happy day;
Love of Nature is my creed,
Unto her I pray;
Sun and sky my spirit feed
On my happy way.
To no man I bow the head,
None may master me;
I will eat my crust of bread
Lauding liberty;
And upon my truckle bed
Glory to be free.
You who grab for sordid gold,
You who fight for fame,
Shiny dross your fingers hold,
Empty is your aim.
--Soon we fatten graveyard mould,
Rich and poor the same.
So from world of want and woe
I retreat with dread;
Tuned to Nature glad I go
With my bite of bread:
Praising God I lay me low
On my truckle bed.
poem by Robert William Service
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Supervision
The teacher prayed to God above for wisdom day-by-day,
For only He had perfect love and insights to relay.
The teacher saw the vision come and looked at it amazed,
For it was meant for all not some, yet not a word was phrased.
From clouds on high, the book birds flew about the teacher's head
And some of these the teacher knew, for they were fondly read.
Then other book birds circled round with titles yet unknown,
With treasure chests as yet unfound, with cherished truths unshown.
Imagine books left on the shelves, unread, unshared for years...
Deprived of these to help ourselves, no thoughts between our ears.
What use would Mankind ever gain if great books were not read?
The teacher thanked God for the brain that chose not to be dead.
And so it was, the teacher smiled! The course ahead made sense.
From now on, books for every child, for families and friends.
In every language known to Man, God's Word can preach Good News,
If we but do the best we can to help each student choose.
The teacher's heart was filled with hope with all God had revealed,
For books would help the students cope, as if each were a shield.
Both fact and fiction serve us well, if willing we would be
To learn the lessons that they tell, for truth shall set us free!
poem by Denis Martindale
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(Inspiration Poem) A Book Never Read
Living by the fire
Living to admire
Living down to the wire
Still the wheels don't turn
I think it is because I want it
Urn for it
The beautiful almighty
I will not pray
Not as long as I live day by day
How much does my soul really weigh?
How many sins can be forgiven?
The fog will eventually choke you out
Whine and pout all you want
It won't make a dent in my steel cage
Because it was built from pure rage
If Its not a stage
What am I going through?
Its just another page of my book never read
Words as stale as the food I was fed
Maybe it was how many times I have been dropped on my head
I plead guilty to an unwritten destiny
I lied to myself in a mirror straight to my very own face
Memories erased
It's just another page of my book never read
I can't be lead astray
Especially if I'm willing
It's not much different then stealing
A moral yeng then yang
A oh so perfect harmony
Keeping things on a even keel
Always questioning what is real
It's just another page of my book never read
I hold on so tight to my comfy bed
Such a beautiful night
The stars are glistening oh so bright
I turn off the lights
Sleep for the dreams of a tomorrow
We are all living on borrowed time
So I ask again where's mine?
A question that continues to go unanswered
Draw your own conclusion
It's another one of the deep dark mysterious illusions
It's just another page of my book never read
It's as if every word has never been said
It's just another page of my tattered and torn book that will be never read
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Getting Old
When you’re young you think you know it all
Then you get old and life begins to unfold.
In their youth they don’t think ahead
The future is something they do not dread.
They feel that everything in life they can control
They’re young and strong and very bold.
Aaaah! Those beautiful days bring back memories
Of how simple life used to be.
Youth had respect for the elderly
And their fellow man.
Now the elderly they try to scam.
When they are older they will see
They want respect and to live with dignity.
they are young and they don’t seem to understand
That with age you may need a helping hand.
Everything in life comes in stages
It’s like a book when you turn the pages
It gets deeper and keeps you enthralled
Until the time that you reach the end
And you’ve lost all your family and friends.
The First stage is when you are a child
And someone is taking care of you for that while.
The Second stage is when you become a teen
And you feel like a king or queen.
You feel that you can not get old
This is what you believe at this stage in your life
Because you’re not looking at the struggles and strife.
The Third stage is the adolescent years
And you feel you’re in control and lose your fears.
The final stage is when you become old and gray
And your youthful years have slipped away.
You look back and ask yourself!
where did All those years go?
Why did I waste so much time?
And the most important thing is
That I am so glad I made you mine
For with you by my side I had a life divine.
So to the youth who have not gotten to this stage
Don’t get angry, and get rid of your rage.
There is no way to turn back the time
For time just moves straight ahead
You’re getting to the point that you now dread.
WELCOME TO OLD AGE! HA-HA
poem by Louis Rams
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The Very Thing That Makes You Rich
My father told me, lying on his bed of death,
"boy," he says, "woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your self
'cause she's got something to make a man lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very thing that makes her rich will make you poor
The very thing that makes her rich will make you poor"
That's right!
Well, i put you behind the wheel of a deuce and a quarter, yes i did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter, yes i did, i sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Don't you never ever make such a bad mistake
You know i'd rather climb into bed with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor,
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich make me poor
Very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Many Ways
Of elite athletes, celebrities and the rich and famous the praises you will hear so many sing
But they are mortals they don't live forever for human life is a temporary thing
All I ask of life is to be happy just for the remainder of my life span
It would be nice to grow old free of sadness and die painless in my sleep a happy man
In many ways I do feel very lucky when my lot in life with others I compare
So many people poor, hungry and Homeless and Stateless in the bigger World out there
What they would give to be lucky as I am at least I have a roof above my head
So many poor and hungry and sad people who sad to say feel envious of the dead
So many poor people in refugee camps they are the people of no fixed abode
The victims of Warlords and droughts and famines their life journey has been a hard old road
'Tis sad to think of the sadness all around us the Homeless children of poverty street
Who search in rubbish bins in the dark alleys for food that others have refused to eat
In many ways I do feel very lucky so many people far worse off than me
In the bigger World out there much want and sadness and many people live in poverty.
poem by Francis Duggan
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One Brown Mouse
Smile your little smile --- take some tea with me awhile.
Brush away that black cloud from your shoulder.
Twitch your whiskers. feel that youre really real.
Another tea-time --- another day older.
Puff warm breath on your tiny hands.
You wish you were a man
Who every day can turn another page.
Behind your glass you sit and look
At my ever-open book ---
One brown mouse sitting in a cage.
Do you wonder if I really care for you ---
Am I just the company you keep ---
Which one of us exercises on the old treadmill ---
Who hides his head, pretending to sleep?
Smile your little smile --- take some tea with me awhile.
And every day well turn another page.
Behind our glass well sit and look
At our ever-open book ---
One brown mouse sitting in a cage.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Songs of Joy
Sing out, my soul, thy songs of joy;
Sing as a happy bird will sing
Beneath a rainbow's lovely arch
In the spring.
Think not of death in thy young days;
Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear?
And fear him not when thou art old,
And he is near.
Strive not for gold, for greedy fools
Measure themselves by poor men never;
Their standard still being richer men,
Makes them poor ever.
Train up thy mind to feel content,
What matters then how low thy store?
What we enjoy, and not possess,
Makes rich or poor.
Filled with sweet thought, then happy I
Take not my state from other's eyes;
What's in my mind -- not on my flesh
Or theirs -- I prize.
Sing, happy soul, thy songs of joy;
Such as a Brook sings in the wood,
That all night has been strengthened by
Heaven's purer flood.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Why.............?
The American book of 'why',
The Asian book of 'why',
The European book of 'why',
The African book of 'why',
The Australian book of 'why',
The most asked question in the valley of world events;
Especially when one explodes a bomb!
The Christian book of 'why',
The Muslim book of 'why',
The Jewish book of 'why',
The Hindu book of 'why',
The Krishna book of 'why',
lLife is like the yeast which makes the bread rise;
But, the writer always has his or her own mind.
The Pagan book of 'why',
The Buddhist book of 'why',
The Protestant book of 'why',
The Confucian book of 'why',
To all life's aspects with the remaining books of 'why';
Poetry is the literature that muses with the mind.
Shall the trumpet be blown in the city and,
The people will not be afraid?
Seven bulls and seven rams,
I am the planted tree by the rivers of waters.
I am very young in years but,
The word 'why' is the question that goes around easily.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Conclusion Of A Letter To The Rev. Mr. C---.
'Tis Time to conclude; for I make it a Rule,
To leave off all Writing, when Con. comes from School.
He dislikes what I've written, and says, I had better
To send what he calls a poetical Letter.
To this I reply'd, You are out of your Wits;
A Letter in Verse would put him in Fits:
He thinks it a Crime in a Woman to read--
Then, what would he say, should your Counsel succeed?
I pity poor Barber, his Wife's so romantick:
A Letter in Rhyme!--Why, the Woman is frantick!
This Reading the Poets has quite turn'd her Head!
On my Life, she should have a dark Room, and Straw Bed.
I often heard say, that St. Patrick took care,
No poisonous Creature should live in this Air:
He only regarded the Body, I find;
But Plato consider'd who poison'd the Mind.
Would they'd follow his Precepts, who sit at the Helm,
And drive Poetasters from out of the Realm!
Her Husband has surely a terrible Life;
There's nothing I dread, like a verse--writing Wife:
Defend me, ye Powers, from that fatal Curse;
Which must heighten the Plagues of for better for worse!
May I have a Wife, that will dust her own Floor;
And not the fine Minx, recommended by More.
(That he was a Dotard, is granted, I hope,
Who dy'd for asserting the Rights of the Pope.)
If ever I marry, I'll chuse me a Spouse,
That shall serve and obey, as she's bound by her Vows;
That shall, when I'm dressing, attend like a Valet;
Then go to the Kitchen, and study my Palate.
She has Wisdom enough, that keeps out of the Dirt,
And can make a good Pudding, and cut out a Shirt.
What Good's in a Dame, that will pore on a Book?
No!--Give me the Wife, that shall save me a Cook.
Thus far I had written--Then turn'd to my Son,
To give him Advice, ere my Letter was done.
My Son, should you marry, look out for a Wife,
That's fitted to lighten the Labours of Life.
Be sure, wed a Woman you thoroughly know,
And shun, above all Things, a housewifely Shrew;
That would fly to your Study, with Fire in her Looks,
And ask what you got by your poring on Books;
Think Dressing of Dinner the Height of all Science,
And to Peace, and good Humour bid open Defiance.
Avoid the fine Lady, whose Beauty's her Care;
Who sets a high Price on her Shape, and her Air;
Who in Dress, and in Visits, employs the whole Day;
And longs for the Ev'ning, to sit down to play.
Chuse a Woman of Wisdom, as well as good Breeding,
With a Turn, at least no Aversion, to Reading:
In the Care of her Person, exact and refin'd;
Yet still, let her principal Care be her Mind:
Who can, when her Family Cares give her Leisure,
Without the dear Cards, pass an Ev'ning with Pleasure;
In forming her Children to Virtue and Knowledge,
Nor trust, for that Care, to a School, or a College:
By Learning made humble, not thence taking Airs,
To despise, or neglect, her domestick Affairs:
Nor think her less fitted for doing her Duty,
By knowing its Reasons, its Use, and its Beauty.
When you gain her Affection, take care to preserve it,
Lest others persuade her, you do not deserve it.
Still study to heighten the Joys of her Life;
Nor treat her the worse, for her being your Wife.
If in Judgment she errs, set her right, without Pride:
'Tis the Province of insolent Fools, to deride.
A Husband's first praise, is a Friend and Protector:
Then change not these Titles, for Tyrant and Hector.
Let your Person be neat, unaffectedly clean,
Tho' alone with your Wife the whole Day you remain.
Chuse Books, for her Study, to fashion her Mind,
To emulate those who excell'd of her Kind.
Be Religion the principal Care of your Life,
As you hope to be blest in your Children and Wife:
So you, in your Marriage, shall gain its true End;
And find, in your Wife, a Companion and Friend.
poem by Mary Barber
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This Is Living
(words & music by weisman - wise)
This is living, full of fun and free
This is living, thats the life for me
Its good to laugh and sing, dont worry about a thing
Wear a happy smile, cut loose and run a mile
If you relax and just enjoy it all, life has got to be a ball
This is living, full of fun and free
This is living, thats the life for me
It wouldnt mean a thing
If I could be a king
I really wouldnt care
To be a millionaire
Id rather find someone to love a lot
Live and give it all Ive got
This is living, full of fun and free
This is living, thats the life for me
Dont wanna settle down
I gotta move around
I gotta lot of time
Im gonna wait and find
The kinda girl whos heart is restless too
The kind who feels the way I do
This is living, full of fun and free
This is living, thats the life for me
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passivity-Phooey
The time has come for you to die!
I have your name in my black book.
Or so death said and my reply
you’d better have another look.
You eyesight’s poor you cannot see
I think you’ve made a grave mistake
This is not number thirty three
Look for yourself for goodness sake.
You may be right about my sight
My visual acuity
is much poorer in the dim light
I fear its fading rapidly.
Perhaps I ought to book a test
a visit to Vision Express.
I’ve heard it said they are the best
But I am vain I must confess.
Maybe horn rims add gravitas
I must maintain my dignity.
I made no comment let it pass
My glasses are to help me see.
I bid death a polite farewell
and wished him well in his eye test
the white lie I was forced to tell
was in my own best interest.
I am too busy yet to die.
One day he will catch up with me.
This lesson I will not forget.
You can fool death quite readily.
He’s very old and not too bright,
has trouble with his memory
on top of that his failing sight
Makes fooling him very easy.
Now should death chance to call again
I am quite certain I will lie
to make quite sure that I can gain.
a few more years before I die..
I will not go without a fight
There’s so much more I want to do.
I will decide the time is right
when I should die: When I want to.
28-Oct-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Get An Answer
Man is not made known by his richness
But by simple logic of his humbleness
A poor man can be so rich in his heritage
Rest all the qualities come in later stage
“Will you like a glass of water” asked old man
It was scorching heat for any human
I was on way to a another town
Had chosen path of my own
I could read those worry lines
He was still standing on side line
He was no relative but only a stranger
I was much impressed and wanted to know more
This morning only someone had asked me question
What really makes man rich in sense and in relation?
I was in dilemma to answer but it touched inner core
I had to struggle hard for answer and explore
I thought of this old man and got answer
Such qualities may be had by fewer
They are happiest persons in the world
I would be so much lucky if find such safe fold
“Not by what you get but by what you give”
“Not by revenge but how you pardon or forgive”
These were all good signs of richness
This gave me an answer and brought shine on the face
It may necessary to have enough of fortune
Luxury and comfort in life with harmony and tune
Yet it is not everything if we compare to what others have
Kind gesture makes them rich and brave
The life has taught us to be little liberal
We may not spend on causes considered to be noble
Yet turn out and behavior makes it all important
Rich or poor may just be stage but one should not be ignorant
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Life's Lesson Book
Life is a ponderous lesson-book, and Fate
The teacher. When I came to love's fair leaf
My teacher turned the page and bade me wait.
'Learn first,' she said, 'love's grief';
And o'er and o'er through many a long tomorrow
She kept me conning that sad page of sorrow.
Cruel the task; and yet it was not vain.
Now the great book of life I know by heart.
In that one lesson of love's loss and pain
Fate doth the whole impart.
For, by the depths of woe, the mind can measure
The beauteous unscaled summits of love's pleasure.
Now, with the book of life upon her knee,
Fate sits! the unread page of love's delight
By her firm hand is half concealed from me,
And half revealed to sight.
Ah Fate! be kind! so well I learned love's sorrow,
Give me its full delight to learn tomorrow.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Teacher Man
The Teacher Man teaches kids from all over the world
The Teacher Man teaches no matter boy or girl
The Teacher Man teaches Christans, Musilms, and Jews
The Teacher Man teaches those who say 'God I don't believe in you'
The Teacher Man teaches over demands for more recess
The Teacher Man teaches to only demand the best
The Teacher Man teaches Science, Reading, and Math
The Teacher Man teaches how to live out of class
The Teacher Man teaches all how to share
The Teacher Man teaches that we all should care
The Teacher Man teaches how to keep an open mind
The Teacher Man teaches with a kick in the behind
The Teacher Man teaches there are lessons in life
The Teacher Man teaches how to overcome strife
The Teacher Man teaches there's nothing wrong with a hug
The Teacher Man teaches the world changes with Love
The Teacher Man teaches the rich and the poor
The Teacher Man teaches those who are ready for more
The Teacher Man teaches how to look someone in the eye
The Teacher Man teaches how to accept someone in their cry
The Teacher Man teaches in more than one tounge
The Teacher Man teaches how to make working hard fun
The Teacher Man teaches all the colors of the land
But, most important of all, he teaches we should take a stand
Take a Stand, Take a Stand, for what you believe
Take a Stand, Take a Stand, and you will be free
Take a Stand, Take a Stand, for the least of the least
Take such Stand man, and you will find peace
He's the Teacher Man
poem by Ary Bolanos
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Friend, Lover, Sister, Mother/wife
If I ever held a hand
It was only because Id never held your hand
That was part of the plan
I had 2 get it right if I was 2 be your man
And if I ever kissed your lips
I needed time 2 cross the others off my list (off my list)
A higher high 2 the trip (trip)
I wanted u 2 go, that was my wish - yes it was
(ooh my) friend, lover, sister, mother/wife
Air, food, water, love of my life
If I ever shared a bed
It was only cuz I wanted 2 live up 2 what the people said, oh yes
(what they say? ) {x5}
Now Im livin instead
Everyday just 2 say ure the only one whos in my head
(the only one) {x2}
Oh yes u are
And if I ever made u cry
All I have 2 do is think about it and I just wanna die (I just wanna die)
(I just wanna break down and die, die, die, die)
How Id ever make it by (I dont know) without u, baby (without u, baby)
I dont know (no!), I hope I never have 2 try, yeah
(please dont ever leave me)
Oh, listen 2 me
(ooh my) friend, lover, sister, mother/wife
(my sweet, sweet friend, lover, sister, mother/wife)
Air, food, water, love of my life
The eyes of my child I see every time u look at me
(I see a sweet baby smile)
A sweet baby smile like a light that shines 4 all 2 see
(and if I ever held a hand) if I ever held a hand
Oh, twas only cuz Id never held yours
That was part of, part of the plan
I had 2 get it right (right) if I was 2 be your man because...
(ooh my) friend, lover, sister, mother/wife
(friend, lover, sister, mother/wife)
My, my, my, my air, my food, my water, love of my life (I love u)
(everlasting life)
Teacher (teacher), healer (healer), feeler (feeler), sight 4 sore eyes
(let me look at your eyes - ure so pretty)
Oh, yes u are, baby
(ooh my) dont u know ure my friend, my lover, my sister, love of my life (mother/wife)
Yeah, baby, yes u are
{te amo is I love u}
(ooh my) friend (te amo), lover (te amo), sister (te amo), mother/wife
(hug me, hug me, hug me baby, u are my life)
(Ill stay with u 4ever) {x2}
Till death do us part, baby (yes sir!)
Air (te amo), food (te amo), water (te amo), love (love of my life)
U are the only, only love of my life
My friend, lover, sister, mother/wife
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0034 Going to school to Rilke
We could not have counted on it,
those days when we were children young in years
but rich with a thousand hopes
jostling, pushed aside, forgotten in a day,
turned over in the mind in those few savoured moments
before a happy-tired sleep
nor did we think even to hope for it
or think how it would be to squeeze the honey of it
between our palms into our ready mouths
leaving the wax upon our hands and laughing
together or alone, in rainbow solitude
but now it’s here, we can savour the honey of it,
the future which we could not have had before
the days and years had closed like inexorable cupped petals,
into a summer evening’s sun-hazed past –
we could not have hoped or counted on nor dreamed -
these days when, all required work now done,
life’s evening hours and the late and lazy
golden leisure of fruit-filled autumn branches
stretches out in even though not endless measure –
today I choose to go to school to Rilke,
a choice as free as we think the birds are free,
the animals, the trees – yet know so little,
so very little, of their life –
and pick up the book of his poems at blissful random,
and read one single line –
‘I have great faith in all things not yet spoken’ –
and sit here, as the world falls, gently, as somewhere far away,
the book silent between my hands, having spoken,
like a honeycomb holding the honey
of some new, untrodden, unbelievably rich life.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Of The Love Of Christ
The love of Christ, poor I! may touch upon;
But 'tis unsearchable. O! there is none
Its large dimensions can comprehend
Should they dilate thereon world without end.
When we had sinned, in his zeal he swore,
That he upon his back our sins would bear.
And since unto sin is entailed death,
He vowed for our sins he'd lose his breath.
He did not only say, vow, or resolve,
But to astonishment did so involve
Himself in man's distress and misery,
As for, and with him, both to live and die.
To his eternal fame in sacred story,
We find that he did lay aside his glory,
Stepped from the throne of highest dignity,
Became poor man, did in a manger lie;
Yea, was beholden unto his for bread,
Had, of his own, not where to lay his head;
Though rich, he did for us become thus poor,
That he might make us rich for evermore.
Nor was this but the least of what he did,
But the outside of what he suffered?
God made his blessed son under the law,
Under the curse, which, like the lion's paw,
Did rent and tear his soul for mankind's sin,
More than if we for it in hell had been.
His cries, his tears, and bloody agony,
The nature of his death doth testify.
Nor did he of constraint himself thus give,
For sin, to death, that man might with him live.
He did do what he did most willingly,
He sung, and gave God thanks, that he must die.
But do kings use to die for captive slaves?
Yet we were such when Jesus died to save's.
Yea, when he made himself a sacrifice,
It was that he might save his enemies.
And though he was provoked to retract
His blest resolves for such so good an act,
By the abusive carriages of those
That did both him, his love, and grace oppose;
Yet he, as unconcerned with such things,
Goes on, determines to make captives kings;
Yea, many of his murderers he takes
Into his favour, and them princes makes.
poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Been In Love Before
Ive never been in love before
Not like this you taught me more
Hung out by myself
Well I lived upon a shelf
And cried cause I thought I could not give
My pride would not let me live
All my feelings disappeared
You are lovely reason i
Am alive you satisfy
All my senses and you give
Me the confidence to grow
In a thousand different ways
Happy just to spend the days
Of my lifetime by your side
I want to be
Everything that I can
I want so much
To be more of a man
I want to grow
I want to know you better
Each day Ill try
To love you
cause Ive never been in love before
You have a friend for life in me
If we ever disagree
And you have to go away
I will set you free with joy
cause your happiness is mine
May our light forever shine
May you always feel free
I want to be
Everything that I can
I want so much
To be more of a man
I want to live
I want to give my lifetime
Each day Ill try
To love you
cause Ive never been in love before
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Book
Have you ever opened a book?
And feel like it’s your life
As you watch each page go pass
You think where did I get lost
Each chapter is an ending
Of what was or what could have been
But each new chapter a beginning
Brings you hope to live again
But the hardest thing in life
Is as you turn each page
You must learn to pass the pain
That lies between the pages
Each chapter a lesson
In life’s little games
Then we smile at ourselves
As we close the last page
To look forward to anew
Of a new chapter in our life’
We smile and nod
At the new book of life
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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