Hands that once were skilled,
Now clumsy and without strength.
Some things can't be healed.
Now clumsy and without strength.
Some things can't be healed.
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Poems without Explanations.
- Thread starter Discount Bassy
- Start date
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!
by Rudyard Kipling
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!
by Rudyard Kipling
four red rolling wheels
maybe this town or the moon
isn't where, but who
maybe this town or the moon
isn't where, but who
If I was to talk of a world unknown
Where past and future are not set in stone.
Where we danced and will dance again.
Laugh and remember when
Would you say to yourself that it never could be?
Would you somehow think less of me?
Where past and future are not set in stone.
Where we danced and will dance again.
Laugh and remember when
Would you say to yourself that it never could be?
Would you somehow think less of me?
I gave you .my heart but you wanted a poem.
Well I got the seeds so let's sow 'em
Doubt is a termite.
Mosquitoes seek to drain you.
Hope is in each breath.
Mosquitoes seek to drain you.
Hope is in each breath.
Saw this on Facebook in an argument between a hyphen a nd an Oxford comma
I signify every word and blank space in a page range
I am the infinite stairwell between integers
I am the bloody embrace of two countries at war.
And on a tombstone I am the entire life lived between birth and death
Elle Cordova
I signify every word and blank space in a page range
I am the infinite stairwell between integers
I am the bloody embrace of two countries at war.
And on a tombstone I am the entire life lived between birth and death
Elle Cordova
3 grains of sand upon a beach
3 little stars so out of reach
3 aching notes upon a staff
And all you want is a photograph
3 little stars so out of reach
3 aching notes upon a staff
And all you want is a photograph
Between us the unfilled space.
No thought can hold us
Eternity thrives in our icy delight
Did quickness surround us?
Aware or in dreaming
Did we walk together through dawn or crowded night?
Where tears could never find us
Our hearts beating faster
For songs we sang forever
For sadness and laughter?
We couldn't see the dying of the light
Now even stars that we can't see
Will shed a tear for you and me.
No thought can hold us
Eternity thrives in our icy delight
Did quickness surround us?
Aware or in dreaming
Did we walk together through dawn or crowded night?
Where tears could never find us
Our hearts beating faster
For songs we sang forever
For sadness and laughter?
We couldn't see the dying of the light
Now even stars that we can't see
Will shed a tear for you and me.
We dine on our young,
Eating that which makes them strong.
The cycle repeats.
Eating that which makes them strong.
The cycle repeats.
