Share a poem that inspires you.

I'll always love you
as time will pass
you are my soulmate
and have a great ass

You are made for me
i am made for you
time will not change it
you have a great dick too.

I'm not a poet, but I know it.

Casabianca

The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but him had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.

The flames roll'd on—he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That Father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He call'd aloud:—"Say, Father,say
If yet my task is done?"
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

"Speak, Father!" once again he cried
"If I may yet begone!
And"—but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames roll'd on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death,
In still yet brave despair.

And shouted but one more aloud,
"My Father, must I stay?"
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way,

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound—
The boy—oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part—
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart!
By: Felecia Dorothea Hemans

The scream

i know how it is to hurt all alone
When nightmares hide deep within dreams
And little boys hold all their secrets inside
But, when do I get to scream?

I know what it's like to be silent and brave
And stand still while fingers ream
And fight the tears back, when the night seems so black
But when do I get to scream?

I know what it's like to make yourself numb
And pretend you have great self-esteem
To live someone's life whom you don't know at all
Who smiles through his urges to scream.

And when I am dead and they open me up
They will find things were not what they'd seemed
For the child and the man and the demons will fly
Out of me, with a deafening scream. Kodi

There is no defeat
By
P.R.Ramchander
(An approximate translation of one famous poem by Bachchan senior)


If the boat is ever afraid of the waves,
It can never, ever cross the sea,
Only to those who try very hard,
There is never, ever a defeat.
When tiny little ants carry the grain and climb,
On the steep-soft walls, they fall down hundreds of times,
But their mind filled fully with hope,
Fills up their nerves fully with courage.
Falling after climbing and climbing after falling,
Does never make them stop from climbing,
For they know that hard work never goes waste,
Only to those who try very hard,
There is never, ever a defeat.
The scuba divers sink and rise,
In the sea and return oft empty handed,
For it is very rare to get a pearl in the deep sea,
But they sink and rise again and again,
For they know that sometimes their hands will not be empty.
Accept the fact that every failure is a challenge,
Take courage from defeat and try again,
Till you are crowned with success.
Banish sleep from your eyes at night,
And do not desert and run away from this land of defeat.
For without doing hard work, no success comes,
Only to those who try very hard,
There is never, ever a defeat


Blogged by: Raja Thatha

Alone
Edgar Allen Poe

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.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

Across the fields of yesterday
He sometimes comes to me,
A little lad just back from play --
The lad I used to be.

And yet he smiles so wistfully
Once he has crept within,
I wonder if he hopes to see
The man I might have been.

"Sometimes" by Thomas S. Jones, Jr.

"Sweet Dreams"


Dreams that become unlived,
Shadows of desire,
Decadence deep within your soul.
Eyes searching the darkness,
Teardrops that fall unnoticed.
Wet lips that lick dry the dryness.
Heart aches that skip a beat,
Only because you dreamed to to touch, to kiss...
To meet.

-Montana 😎✍

Nice. I’m going to try to share one with you. Many poems I know are from me to others so I’ll think about it.