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Share a poem that you found inspirational.

How Did You Die?
by
Edmund Vance Cooke


Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there -- that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,
It's how did you fight -- and why?
And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?
sarabee1995 · 26-30, F
I share with you a warriors poem from a native American chieftain.

Chief Tecumseh's Poem

So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart.
Trouble no one about their religion;
respect others in their view,
and demand that they respect yours.

Love your life,
perfect your life,
beautify all things in your life.
Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.
Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.

Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend,
even a stranger, when in a lonely place.
Show respect to all people and grovel to none.

When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living.
If you see no reason for giving thanks,
the fault lies only in yourself.
Abuse no one and no thing,
for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.

When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death,
so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.
Sing your death song and die like a hero going home."


~ Chief Tecumseh

@sarabee1995 “die like a hero going home” 👍
sarabee1995 · 26-30, F
@BiasForAction Yup. Live your life today. Don't wait until ten minutes before your time to negotiate with your god.

I first saw this poem in a movie my first year of undergrad. It struck me so hard that I looked it up and found the story behind it and the story of Tecumseh. I printed it out and put it over my desk. A few months later the printout was replaced by a poster with it. That poster sat over my desk for the next three years. When I started at Georgetown and got my first apartment there, I found a wood plaque with this. That plaque is now hanging in my boat.

Chief Tecumseh's Poem is now my life philosophy. :)
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
— Dylan Thomas
ProfessorPlum77 · 70-79, MVIP
@JustGoneNow Excellent choice!
@ProfessorPlum77 it has been my anchor for many years.
ProfessorPlum77 · 70-79, MVIP
@JustGoneNow I remember it from high school.
Yes, poetry can inspire us. It is good to have an anchor!!!
Grzzgurl80 · F
Two Days We Should Not Worry
Author Unknown

There are two days in every week about which we should not worry, two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension.

One of these days is Yesterday with all its mistakes and cares,
its faults and blunders, its aches and pains.

Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control.
All the money in the world cannot bring back Yesterday.

We cannot undo a single act we performed;
we cannot erase a single word we said.
Yesterday is gone forever.

The other day we should not worry about is Tomorrow
with all its possible adversities, its burdens,
its large promise and its poor performance;
Tomorrow is also beyond our immediate control.

Tomorrow's sun will rise,
either in splendor or behind a mask of clouds, but it will rise.
Until it does, we have no stake in Tomorrow,
for it is yet to be born.

This leaves only one day, Today.
Any person can fight the battle of just one day.
It is when you and I add the burdens of those two awful eternities Yesterday and Tomorrow that we break down.

It is not the experience of Today that drives a person mad,
it is the remorse or bitterness of something which happened Yesterday and the dread of what Tomorrow may bring.

Let us, therefore, Live but one day at a time.
ProfessorPlum77 · 70-79, MVIP
@Grzzgurl80 Great contribution!
ProfessorPlum77 · 70-79, MVIP
A Psalm of Life
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
@SW-User Love Dickinson.
SW-User
@JustGoneNow Me too ..Sylvia Plath is my top favorite though then Emily Dickinson
@SW-User I love Plathe. She was incredible. I still have to give Frost my top spot, though. He words just speak to me on a very deep level.
ozgirl512 · 26-30, F
Twas on good ship Venus
By Christ you should have seen us ..

Someone had to lower the tone!
MartinII · 70-79, M
I’ve already done that, in response to a different post.
ProfessorPlum77 · 70-79, MVIP
Inspiring!
SW-User
by me 2012
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@Ferise1 I actually post a variety of things. A few folks only post hate. Thank God I am not one of those! What a miserable existence that would be. To be consumed with hate even moment of every day. What a waste.

 
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