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Many years ago I was living with depression
And all I wanted was just to be alone
But now I found myself smiling with no reason
Funny that sometimes you're in my imagination
Ma. Cristina Colima
Last night I fell asleep watching the moon from my bedroom window
I imagined that you were watching it too
And for that moment
Oh joyful heart!
On the highest wing, you soar,
Building your nest in the
heart of men
Seasons Of Life
Gazing at the breezy night
Empty or lack of immense sunlight
And the onset of Winters shined
Though reflecting warmth of mankind
She sought to breathe one word, but vainly;
Too many listeners were nigh;
And yet my timid glance read plainly
The language of her speaking eye.
I see thine image through my tears to-night,
And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How
Refer the cause ?--Beloved, is it thou
Or I, who makes me sad ? The acolyte
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
You lived for a short while and then you left me alone
I was not prepared for your demise
It came with its shock
And it still shocks
Love is not a wine
It's a fountain of joy
If your love story gives you headaches
It's not a true love but attachment
Where Do I Go
We are seated together
Thinking on our togetherness
Laughing out the past
Where will I go
A Dying Bachelor
His eyes deeming like a rainy cloud,
The chime of his voice joisting in chide,
For on his dying mattress he lay,
Winking and blinking in hayfever like a dying soul in pain,
Life Is Best
Let me but live my life from year to year
With forward face and unreluctant soul;
Not hurrying to, nor turning from the goal;
Not mourning for the things that disappear
Ankit V Pandey
Her baby was so full of glee,
And through the day
It laughed and babbled on her knee
In happy play.
Our Mothers, lovely women pitiful;
Our Sisters, gracious in their life and death;
To us each unforgotten memory saith:
“Learn as we learned in life's sufficient school,
What Is Love
A good night kiss to your child
A tight hug between siblings,
Tears of joy ,
A look of longing for someone
Poetry is a painting of words,
The colours are our tears and thoughts,
That flow from the mind to the pen in hand and onto the paper.
The different figure of speech and tone used in poetry enhances its texture.
Life is a jest;
Take the delight of it.
Laughter is best;
Sing through the night of it.
Edgar Albert Guest
Wild And Gentle
So I am learning to smile,
To greet every other creature.
Red or green inside in nature,
A power within, the joy in laughter.
Night frawns on our hope and belongings,
And left us hopeless and stranded.
New dawn renews our hope,
And makes all new and beautiful.
The Norman Boy
High on a broad unfertile tract of forest-skirted Down,
Nor kept by Nature for herself, nor made by man his own,
From home and company remote and every playful joy,
Served, tending a few sheep and goats, a ragged Norman Boy.
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
Are all but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Weep No More My Child
Look in my eyes,
What's in your eyes?
What can you see when you look in my eyes?
Your eyes is so meek and full of kindness,
I Know You
I know you are very optimistic about the world outside your mother's crib. She awaits your present with lots of hugs, kisses and tears of joy when you arrive.
I know you crave for your mother's touch has you poke heavily on her tummy tuck. She meant no harmed, just the required garments worn to cover up.
Michael: A Pastoral Poem
If from the public way you turn your steps
Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,
You will suppose that with an upright path
Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent
Life, Love And Lessons
Life has changed in many ways,
But thoughts of you stayed the same.
I lost count in the number of days,
But each day my love grew like a flame.
He wears a long and solemn face
And drives the children from his place;
He doesn't like to hear them shout
Or race and run and romp about,
Edgar Albert Guest
I Am A Killer
My name is depression and I am a killer,
I am everywhere, I am the darkness, the grief, the sadness.
Once I enter your head, it would be hard for you to get me off of your system.
Again I knocked on the close door!
Again I am granted entry!
Again I pursued my goal!
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were-I have not seen
As others saw-I could not bring
My passions from a common spring-
Edgar Allan Poe