Thomas Hood
NO courtier this, and naught to courts he owed,
Fawned not on thrones, hymned not the great and callous,
Yet, in one strain, that few remember, showed
He had the password of King Oberon's palace.
And seeing a London seamstress's gray fate,
He of a human heartstring made a thread,
And stitched him such a royal robe of state
That Eastern Kings are poorlier habited.
He saw wan Woman toil with famished eyes;
He saw her bound, and strove to sing her free.
He saw her fall'n; and wrote 'The Bridge of Sighs' -
And on it crossed to immortality.
poem by William Watson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
An Ode
WHAT boots it to be great?
To live in royal state
And feast with kings,
Since now all things
One doom await?
5
What boots it to be fair?
Sweet eyes and golden hair,
And youthful bloom,
Since in the tomb
All foulness there?
10
To live in royal state—
That is not to be great;
Sweet eyes and golden hair—
That is not to be fair.
What is it to be great?
15
Content with thine estate;
To serve thy God and King
In everything—
That is it to be great.
What is it to be fair?
20
Sweet modesty to wear;
To keep thine honour sure,
Thy bosom pure—
That is it to be fair.
Much boots it to be great,
25
Much boots it to be fair.
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode to London
London where parliament convenes,
Home of the pearly kings and queens,
Crowds of people on shopping sprees,
Remember to mind the gap please,
Cockneys bound by ringing Bow bells,
The streets where the Spring Heeled Jack dwells,
Set to the clockwork of Big Ben,
Soon the royal guards change again,
Great treasures such as the crown jewels,
Westminster abbey and st. Paul's,
Road traffic crammed with red buses,
Every other local cusses,
Around the snaking River Thames,
History of the big smoke stems,
Grim streets that have charm regardless,
To the plush Buckingham Palace.
poem by Christian Lacdael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Passion
If they only owned love, shown love, grown love, like this before
If they only knew love, true love, to love, like this before
If they only gave love, saved love, brave love, like this before
If they only called love, love love, called love, like this before
If theyd only showed love, they owed love, owed love, like this before
If they only showed love, they owed love, owed love, like this before
If they only knew love, true love, to love, like this before
If they only gave love, saved love, brave love, like this before
If they only showed love, they owed love, they owed love, like this before
La la la la la, la la la la, la la la la la, La la la la la...
Like this before
If they ever showed love, they owed love, they owed love, they owed love
If they ever showed love, they owed love, they owed love, like this before
Oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah
La la la la la, la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la...
If they only claimed love, claimed love, claimed love
They maintened love
Instead they drained love, stained love
They didnt control love, my soul loves a whole love, like this before
Received the same love
If they didnt regret love, forget love, say they never met love
If they will love, dont kill love, just be still love (x4)
song performed by by Lauryn Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Of Kings
Behold the son of royal birth,
Aligned by blood, no less,
To ancient kings who proved their worth
And ones God chose to bless.
Consider all that history
Has taught us through the years,
Each miracle, each mystery,
The laughter and the tears...
Consider how each king is raised
From birth to adulthood...
As if like diamonds, well appraised,
Superior not just good...
Reflect on posture that's portrayed
To signify his throne...
That tells you he must be obeyed,
For he is king alone...
Remember all his mighty power,
His strength and bravery.
For he is king and you should cower
At all there is to see.
That majesty, that dignity,
That stare that meets your eyes...
Should grant your soul some clarity
And help you realise...
That here he is, the king of kings...
Perhaps your friend or foe...
In either case, his underlings...
What more is there to know?
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'King Of Kings'.
While this poem is about the lion painting,
the poem is written without any reference
to the lion at all. That's because of the
Christian symbolism of Jesus, the Son of God,
whose royal ancestors meant that He was
called the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.
The poem ends with the realisation for each soul.
Are you a friend or a foe to the King of Kings?
More Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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King Of London
Bobby is the ace of hearts
Karen is the queen
Joe is the knight of the working class
With multi-coloured jeans
Ginger and rose work for unicef
Ride around on a tandem
Me I walk on air
Because Im the king of london
Alan lives in bethnal green
His brother gets into fights
Tony lives in billericay
Talks politics every night
Sheila worked for meals on wheels
Until the council made her redundant
Im a self made man
Because Im the king of london
Im the king of london
Im the king of london
Dont need speed to make me run
I can look straight into the sun
Because Im the king of london town
Keith marched for the right to work
Nothing really changed
Man at the bottom was still underground
Face at the top was the same
After all our well made plans
What went wrong I wonder
And Im not allowed to ask questions anyway
Because Im the king of london
Bobby is the ace of hearts
Karen is the queen
Freedom to be who they really are
Is something theyve never seen
Whether they make it whether they break
Or whether they just go under
Im not allowed to surrender anyway
Because Im the king of london
Im the king of london
Im the king of london
Dont need speed to make me run
I can look straight into the sun
Because Im the king of london town
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Of London
Bobby is the ace of hearts
Karen is the queen
Joe is the knight of the working class
With multi-coloured jeans
Ginger and rose work for unicef
Ride around on a tandem
Me I walk on air
Because Im the king of london
Alan lives in bethnal green
His brother gets into fights
Tony lives in billericay
Talks politics every night
Sheila worked for meals on wheels
Until the council made her redundant
Im a self made man
Because Im the king of london
Im the king of london
Im the king of london
Dont need speed to make me run
I can look straight into the sun
Because Im the king of london town
Keith marched for the right to work
Nothing really changed
Man at the bottom was still underground
Face at the top was the same
After all our well made plans
What went wrong I wonder
And Im not allowed to ask questions anyway
Because Im the king of london
Bobby is the ace of hearts
Karen is the queen
Freedom to be who they really are
Is something theyve never seen
Whether they make it whether they break
Or whether they just go under
Im not allowed to surrender anyway
Because Im the king of london
Im the king of london
Im the king of london
Dont need speed to make me run
I can look straight into the sun
Because Im the king of london town
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jesus the King
On the hill of Calvary
Hung up on a tree,
Stripped bare for all to see-
Jesus, King of the Jews,
The carpenter of Galilee,
Dying for me and you.
The soldiers and priests
Shaking dust off their feet
While his followers few, did weep.
Hah, Jesus Christ the King! ?
Hear them in mockery sing
Great Caesar be our only King!
But though they reviled,
And though they mocked.
He cried, 'Father forgive; they know not.'
For he was the great I am,
A shining light, brighter than the sun's flame.
Almighty God robed in flesh, Son of Man.
Jesus, the one who will and has been,
The one who of all will one day be seen
The Creator of every living being.
Despite their mocking,
And though they denied him:
He was still their King.
Tis still the same today,
Whether you like it that way:
Jesus the King, here to stay.
You can defy him, in defiance raise,
But one day, him, everyone will praise.
You will praise, it's just about what place.
You can curse him, spurn his love.
Shake your fists at the sky above.
Nothing you do will be enough.
Because he made you, therefore your King.
Doesn't matter if you don't like him,
Won't ever change a thing.
He has been the King,
Is the King,
Will be the King,
Forever lives the King.
Lift your hands and sing,
Long live, Jesus the King!
The majority's voice will never change,
The endowment of he who came:
Jesus the King, forever the same
You can deny him,
Doesn't change a thing-
Jesus is still your King.
Has been the King, is the King, will be the King! Long live Jesus Christ the King! Lift your hands and sing, Long live, Jesus the King.
Story behind the poem:
This is one of my favorite verses in the Bible:
1Ti 6: 14-16 That thou keep this commandment without spot, unrebukeable, until the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ: Which in his times he shall shew, who is the blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings, and Lord of lords; Who only hath immortality, dwelling in the light which no man can approach unto; whom no man hath seen, nor can see: to whom be honour and power everlasting. Amen.
Can you feel the awe rising? I can.
And an interesting tidbit:
Joh 19: 19-22 And Pilate wrote a title, and put it on the cross. And the writing was, JESUS OF NAZARETH THE KING OF THE JEWS.
This title then read many of the Jews: for the place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the city: and it was written in Hebrew, and Greek, and Latin.
Then said the chief priests of the Jews to Pilate, Write not, The King of the Jews; but that he said, I am King of the Jews.
Pilate answered, What I have written I have written.
What I have written, I have written. What an epic statement! Jesus will forever be the KING of kings. Nothing will ever change it!
JESUS IS KING!
GZ
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is Your Song
Live your life to the fall
With a lifetime of smiles
Made us know right from wrong
Always knowing a lie
You made us to be tough
But never too rough
Rise above what you said
Never easily lead.
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
I wrote it for you
It wont take all day
Just a minute or two
You were a friend
Walk with you to the end
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
So Ill try and go on
Loving all that we know
Through the hardest of times
You put on a show
You made us stand tall
When all around us would fall
Even when you were alone
You believed you could fly
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
I wrote it for you
It wont take all day
Just a minute or two
You were a friend
Walk with you to the end
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
We wrote it for you
Itll take all our lives
Just to help us get through
You were a friend
Walk with you to the end
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song.
song performed by by Ronan Keating
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Oak Tree
There grew a little flower
'Neath a great oak tree:
When the tempest 'gan to lower
Little heeded she:
No need had she to cower,
For she dreaded not its power -
She was happy in the bower
Of her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
When she found that he was fickle,
Was that great oak tree,
She was in a pretty pickle,
As she well might be -
But his gallantries were mickle,
For Death followed with his sickle,
And her tears began to trickle
For her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
Said she, "He loved me never,
Did that great oak tree,
But I'm neither rich nor clever,
And so why should he?
But though fate our fortunes sever,
To be constant I'll endeavour,
Ay, for ever and for ever,
To my great oak tree!"
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Things To Be Remembered
Remember your hope not your blue
Remember your share not your dues
Remember your laugh not your tears
Remember your courage not your fear
Remember your gain not your vain
Remember your joys not your pain
Remember your smile not your cross
Remember your victory not your loss
And when you'll lerarn to remember all this
Then God's huge bucket of his bliss
Will fall upon you and your fate
To tell how much God is great
And always remember this little thing
That God's gift keeps on moving in a ring
So keep on counting my dear friend
For blessings of God has no bound nor ends.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The King’s Evil
They brought them up from their huts in the fens,
The woeful sufferers gaunt and grim;
They flocked from the city's noisome dens
To the Monarch's throne to be touched by him.
'For his touch,' they whisper, 'is sovereign balm,
The anointed King has a power to heal.'
Oh, the piteous prayers as the royal palm
Is laid on their necks while they humbly kneel!
Blind hope! But the cruel and cold deceit
A rich reward to the palace brings;
A snare for the untaught People's feet,
And a courtier's lie for the good of Kings.
But the years are sands, and they slip away
Till the baseless wall in the sun lies bare;
The touch of the King has no balm to-day,
And the Right Divine is the People's share.
The word remains: but the Evil now
Is caused, not cured, by imperial hands,—
The lightless soul and the narrow brow,
The servile millions in armed bands;
The sweat-wrung gold from the peasant's toil
Flung merrily out by the gambling lord,
Who is reckless owner of serf and soil,
And master of church and law and sword.
But the night has receded: the dawn like a tide
Creeps slow round the world, till the feet of the throne
Are lapped by the waves that shall seethe and ride
Where the titles are gulfed and the shields overblown.
Our Kings are the same as the Kings of old,
But a Man stands up where there crouched a clown;
The Evil shall die when his hand grows bold,
And the touch of the People is laid on the Crown!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Password
Youve wet my appetite;
I want the taste of you tonight.
Ive gotta look out for me,
Like a cat whose got the cream.
Prrrr-rrrr-rrr!
I take you for a gambling man...
Ill place my bets as high as I can.
Maybe youre the one who can realize my dream.
Shall we see?
Meet me in the bedroom
At quarter-past eleven...
Say the lucky words Im looking for,
And well be locking up the door.
Baby, if you wanna be in my world,
Youve gotta know the password (password)
To make it right (to make it right).
Tell me your thinking hard,
I dont want this to fall apart...
Ive gotta feeling that we could just make a team.
Im careful with my heart,
Im a fussy girl and loves an art.
Tell me that your hiding something up your sleeve,
Please...
Meet me in the bedroom,
At quarter-past eleven.
Say the lucky words Im looking for,
And well be locking up the door.
Baby, if you wanna be in my world,
Youve gotta know the password (password)
To make it right (to make it right)
Baby, if you wanna be in my world,
Youve gotta know the password (password)
I think you might (I think you might)
Tell me the password baby, mmmm...
Please tell me baby,
Its not the hand youve got,
But how you play it...
Mmmm... yeah, whats the password?
(baby, baby) baby, whats the password [x4]
Baby, if you wanna be in my world (ooh baby whats the password),
Youve gotta know the password (password) (ah baby whats the password)
To make it right (to make it right) (oh baby whats the password)
Baby, if you wanna be in my world (baby whats the password).
Youve gotta know the password (password) (oh whats the password, ahhh
Password)
To make you might (I think you might) (ooh whats the password)
Tell me, tell me!
Oooh, hmm-ha!
song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dysthanatos
BY no dry death another king goes down
The way of kings. Yet may no free man’s voice,
For stern compassion and deep awe, rejoice
That one sign more is given against the crown,
That one more head those dark red waters drown
Which rise round thrones whose trembling equipoise
Is propped on sand and bloodshed and such toys
As human hearts that shrink at human frown.
The name writ red on Polish earth, the star
That was to outshine our England’s in the far
East heaven of empire where is one that saith
Proud words now, prophesying of this White Czar?
‘In bloodless pangs few kings yield up their breath,
Few tyrants perish by no violent death,’
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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When I Was King
The second time I lived on earth
Was several hundred years ago;
And—royal by my second birth—
I know as much as most men know.
I was a king who held the reins
As never modern monarch can;
I was a king, and I had brains,
And, what was more, I was a man!
Called to the throne in stormy times,
When things were at their very worst,
I had to fight—and not with rhymes—
My own self and my kindred first;
And after that my friends and foes,
And great abuses born of greed;
And when I’d fairly conquered those,
I ruled the land a king indeed.
I found a deal of rottenness,
Such as in modern towns we find;
I camped my poor in palaces
And tents upon the plain behind.
I marked the hovels, dens and drums
In that fair city by the sea.
And burnt the miles of wretched slums
And built the homes as they should be.
I stripped the baubles from the State,
And on the land I spent the spoil;
I hunted off the sullen great,
And to the farmers gave the soil.
My people were their own police;
My courts were free to everyone.
My priests were to preach love and peace;
My Judges to see justice done.
I’d studied men and studied kings,
No crawling cant would I allow;
I hated mean and paltry things,
As I can hate them even now.
A land of men I meant to see,
A strong and clean and noble race—
No subject dared kneel down to me,
But looked his king straight in the face
Had I not been a king in fact,
A king in council-hall and tent,
I might have let them crawl and act
The courtier to their heart’s content;
But when I called on other kings,
And saw men kneel, I felt inclined
To gently tip the abject things
And kick them very hard behind.
My subjects were not slaves, I guess,
But though the women in one thing—
A question ’twas of healthy dress—
Would dare to argue with their king
(I had to give in there, I own,
Though none denied that I was strong),
Yet they would hear my telephone
If anything went very wrong.
I also had some poets bright—
Their songs were grand, I will allow—
They were, if I remember right,
About as bad as bards are now.
I had to give them best at last,
And let them booze and let them sing;
As it is now, so in the past,
They’d small respect for gods or king.
I loved to wander through the streets—
I carried neither sword nor dirk—
And watch the building of my fleets,
And watch my artisans at work.
At times I would take off my coat
And show them how to do a thing—
Till someone, clucking in his throat,
Would stare and gasp, ‘It is the king!’
And I would say, ‘Shut up, you fools!
Is it for this my towns I burn?
You don’t know how to handle tools,
And by my faith you’ll have to learn!’
I was a king, but what of that?
A king may warble in the spring
And carry eggs home in his hat,
Provided that he is a king.
I loved to stroll about the town
With chums at night, and talk of things,
And, though I chanced to wear the crown,
My friends, by intellect, were kings.
When I was doubtful, then I might
Discuss a matter quietly,
But when I felt that I was right
No power on earth could alter me!
And now and then it was no sin
Nor folly to relax a bit—
I’d take my friends into an inn
And call for wine and pay for it.
And then of many things we’d clack
With loosened tongues and visions clear—
I often heard behind my back
The whispered ‘Peace, the king is here!’
The women harped about a queen,
I knew they longed to have a court
And flaunt their feathers on the scene,
But hitherto I’d held the fort.
My subjects wanted me, no doubt,
To give the throne a son and heir—
(There were some little kings about,
But that was neither here nor there).
I’d no occasion for a wife—
A queen as yet was not my plan;
I’d seen a lot of married life—
My sire had been a married man.
‘A son and heir be hanged!’ I said—
‘How dare you ask for such a thing,
‘You fight it out when I am dead
‘And let the best man be the king!’
‘Your Majesty, we love you well!’
A candid friend would say to me—
‘But there be tales that people tell
‘Unfitted to thy dignity’—
‘My dignity be damned!’ I’d say,
‘Bring me no women’s chattering!
‘I’ll be a man while yet I may—
‘When trouble comes I’ll be a king!
I’d kept my kingdom clean and strong
While other kingdoms were like ours—
I had no need to brook a wrong,
I feared not all the rotten Powers
I did not eat my heart out then,
Nor feebly fight in verse or prose
I’d take five hundred thousand men
To argue matters with my foes!
It thrilled me through, the mighty tramp
Of armëd men, the thundering cheer—
The pregnant whisper through the camp
At dead of night: ‘The King is here!’
And though we paid for victory
On some fields that were hard to hold,
The faith my soldiers had in me
Oft strengthened mine a hundredfold.
I’d chat with soldiers by the fires
On rocky heights and river banks,
I’d seek the brains that war requires,
And take my captains from the ranks.
And so, until the storm was by,
And came the peace just war can bring,
I bore me so that men might cry
With all their hearts, ‘God Save the King.’
When I was king the world was wide,
And I was strong and I was free.
I knew no hatred, knew no pride,
No envy and no treachery.
I feared no lies. I feared no truth,
Nor any storm that time might bring.
I had my love, I had my youth,
The world was mine when I was king.
Peace came at last—and strange is Fate—
The women begged just once alone
To see me robed in royal state
And seated on my father’s throne.
I thought, ‘Shall I this boon deny?’
And said—and ’twas a paltry thing:
‘I’ll show the fools just once that I
‘Can look, as well as be, a king.’
They dusted out the castle old,
And from the closet and the chest
They dug the jewels set in gold—
The crown and robes and all the rest.
They came with eyes like stars of night,
With diamonds set in raven hair,
They came with arms and bosoms white—
And, Oh my God! but one was fair!
They dressed me as the kings had been,
The ancient royal purple spread,
And one that was to be my queen,
She placed the circlet on my head.
They pressed their hearts and bowed to me,
They knelt with arms uplifted all.
I felt the rush of vanity—
The pride that goes before the fall.
And then the banquet and the wine
With Satan’s music and the glance
Of siren eyes. Those captains mine
Were reeling in the maddening dance:
A finger writing on the wall,
While girls sang as the angels sing—
A drunken boaster in the hall,
The fool that used to be a king.
I rose again—no matter how—
A woman, and a deeper fall—
I move amongst my people now
The most degraded of them all.
But, if in centuries to come,
I live once more and claim my own,
I’ll see my subjects blind and dumb
Before they set me on a throne
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Three Kings Of Cologne
From out Cologne there came three kings
To worship Jesus Christ, their King.
To Him they sought fine herbs they brought,
And many a beauteous golden thing;
They brought their gifts to Bethlehem town,
And in that manger set them down.
Then spake the first king, and he said:
'O Child, most heavenly, bright, and fair!
I bring this crown to Bethlehem town
For Thee, and only Thee, to wear;
So give a heavenly crown to me
When I shall come at last to Thee!'
The second, then. 'I bring Thee here
This royal robe, O Child!' he cried;
'Of silk 'tis spun, and such an one
There is not in the world beside;
So in the day of doom requite
Me with a heavenly robe of white!'
The third king gave his gift, and quoth:
'Spikenard and myrrh to Thee I bring,
And with these twain would I most fain
Anoint the body of my King;
So may their incense sometime rise
To plead for me in yonder skies!'
Thus spake the three kings of Cologne,
That gave their gifts, and went their way;
And now kneel I in prayer hard by
The cradle of the Child to-day;
Nor crown, nor robe, nor spice I bring
As offering unto Christ, my King.
Yet have I brought a gift the Child
May not despise, however small;
For here I lay my heart to-day,
And it is full of love to all.
Take Thou the poor but loyal thing,
My only tribute, Christ, my King!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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London Pool
London Pool's in London town,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's in London town,
Where the great ships anchor down!
O to shake the canvas free,
Hear the cordage cheerily
Whistling to the open sea
Down from London Pool, O!
London Pool's a crowded place,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's a crowded place,
Crafts and crews of every race!
O to hear the clanking chain
Trail along the wharf again, -
Hear the tautening ropes astrain
Down from London Pool, O!
London Pool's a gallant sight,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's a gallant sight,
Toil by day and glare by night!
O to shake our heels and go, -
Feel the four free winds ablow,
Hail the lights of long ago
Down from London Pool, O!
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Down To London
Stop - whats that sound
Its the death rattle of this rusty old town
Stop - listen again
Its the sound of laughter all along the thames
Hey - whats my line
Do I have to stay here til the end of time
Im - good lookin and bright
I wanna see life after ten at night
So if they ask you where I am
Im in the back of a transit van
In a squat on the earls court road
Gone down to london turning coal into gold
Down to london - down to london
Gone down to london to be the king
Hey - whats your name
The boys back home all seem to look the same
You - should stick with me
And one of us will make it, just you see
Stop - whats that sound
Seems like the sixties are still swingin around
Hey - can you hear me back there
Or is there anybody left to care
So if you ask me where they are
Theyre hanging tough in a soho bar
Playing guitars in the underground
Gone down to london tryin to chase that sound
Down to london - down to london
Gone down to london to be the king
So I ask you should I cry or laugh
Drinking tea in a kings cross caff
A leather jacket against the cold
Gone down to london turning coal into gold
Down to london - down to london
Gone down to london to be the king
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Builder's Lesson
'HOW shall I a habit break?'
As you did that habit make.
As you gathered, you must lose;
As you yielded, now refuse.
Thread by thread the strands we twist
Till they bind us neck and wrist;
Thread by thread the patient hand
Must untwine ere free we stand.
As we builded, stone by stone,
We must toil unhelped, alone,
Till the wall is overthrown.
But remember, as we try,
Lighter every test goes by;
Wading in, the stream grows deep
Toward the center's downward sweep;
Backward turn, each step ashore
Shallower is than that before.
Ah, the precious years we waste
Leveling what we raised in haste;
Doing what must be undone
Ere content or love be won!
First across the gulf we cast
Kite-borne threads, till lines are passed,
And habit builds the bridge at last!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gratitude
Thanks to those who love me,
you made me feel irrplaceable.
Thanks to those who made me smile,
you showed me the true of taste of happinesss.
Thanks to those who envied me,
you made my heart grow fonder.
Thanks to those who cared,
you made me important.
Thanks to those who fought me,
you showed me the true worth of a friend.
Thanks to those who entered my life,
you made me who i am today.
Thanks to those who left,
you showed me that nothing last forever.
Thanks to those who stayed,
you showed me the meaning of love and friendship.
Thanks to those who broke my heart,
you showed me that nobody is worth my trust.
Thanks to those who gossip about me,
you showed me how popular i am.
Thanks to those who try to bring me down,
you showed me how strong i am.
Thanks to those who believed in me,
you showed me how special i am.
Thanks to those who hate me,
you showed me the meaning of the word ' ENEMY '.
Thanks to those who smiled because of me,
you made me feel invulnerable.
Thanks to those who prayed for me,
you made me indomitable.
Thanks to those who taught me,
you made me a success.
Thanks to those who celebrate me,
you made me a superstar.
Thanks to those who underated me,
you showed me how extraordinary i am.
Thanks to those who motivated me,
you brought out the best in me.
Thanks to my parent who gave birth to me,
they made me a human.
Thanks to God who created me,
you made me a super human.
poem by Stanley Oguh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bridge I Crossed
Very grand was the bridge I crossed,
Forward I marched in the steps of my father;
The world knew a little heaven and hell,
But the lesser crimes were to be committed.
Then the bridge was told to be new,
The effort spoke everyday, like a fortune
And a hell likeable, in front of you;
You are in close proximity to the bomb.
A great bridge had been crossed
By the jeep of speed and velocity;
A jeep is all it needs to arrive at last,
The last sting was made a century ago.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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