If love is action, I am but a bland
and apathetic testament to hate;
I lie before I ever take a stand,
and plan to die before I procreate.
If love is patience, I will win the day,
for time is on the side of those who wait
in silent expectation of the stray
and misdirected arrows of their fate.
If love is made of mutual desire,
I lust for her who shares my ardent thirst
to claim my fill of romance, and retire
to years no longer by this question cursed–
alone together, basking in her glow,
with only our contentedness to show.
–G.B., stationary minstrel
This type of poetry is an english sonnet because it has a specific rhyme and unexpected twist.
www.sonnetwriters.com
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
XXXVIII
I fell apart–my center would not hold;
my kingdom crashed around a broken man
whose shepherding lost focus on his fold
and placed his lowly self before the clan.
What progress had I made besides my own
indulgent acts, ambitiously designed
to chisel out my name in frozen stone
so all may praise what I will leave behind?
You touched me–in the moment I was lost
and simultaneously found anew–
I stumbled forward once our paths had crossed,
to find my every sight in clearer view.
This changed and better planet I adore,
and play my part more gladly than before.
–G.B., stationary minstrel
This type of poetry is an example of an english sonnet because this poem has abab cdcd efef gg and has three quatrains with an unexpected twist.
http://www.sonnetwriters.com/
my kingdom crashed around a broken man
whose shepherding lost focus on his fold
and placed his lowly self before the clan.
What progress had I made besides my own
indulgent acts, ambitiously designed
to chisel out my name in frozen stone
so all may praise what I will leave behind?
You touched me–in the moment I was lost
and simultaneously found anew–
I stumbled forward once our paths had crossed,
to find my every sight in clearer view.
This changed and better planet I adore,
and play my part more gladly than before.
–G.B., stationary minstrel
This type of poetry is an example of an english sonnet because this poem has abab cdcd efef gg and has three quatrains with an unexpected twist.
http://www.sonnetwriters.com/
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
The Fortress Of Love
Every marriage has its bumps in the road
And they can pop up at any time.
We must learn to navigate them safely
With fairness, faith and open mind.
No matter how far in your marriage you've gone
The highway of love has its rules.
The excitement of sex, trust and affection
Never tolerates self-serving fools.
They say marriages are made in heaven,
But so are tornadoes, lighting and thunder.
Cold hearts and hot heads never solve anything
They just destroy what we love by blunder.
Boredom, frustration, irritations and anger
Douse the spark between you and your mate.
More of the same fails to feed love s flame
Till you wake up to find it's too late
Human touch sustains the release of endorphins
For both the giver and receiver.
Never be afraid to hug your partner.
For the language of touch is a reliever.
Always remember to support your spouse
When times of dilemma arise.
The fortress of love will sustain your marriage
If you speak less and listen more, you're wise.
Author: Tom Zart
http://www.skywriting.net/inspirational/poems/the_fortress_of_love.html
This type of poetry is a ballad because it tells a helping story and can't be made into a song.
And they can pop up at any time.
We must learn to navigate them safely
With fairness, faith and open mind.
No matter how far in your marriage you've gone
The highway of love has its rules.
The excitement of sex, trust and affection
Never tolerates self-serving fools.
They say marriages are made in heaven,
But so are tornadoes, lighting and thunder.
Cold hearts and hot heads never solve anything
They just destroy what we love by blunder.
Boredom, frustration, irritations and anger
Douse the spark between you and your mate.
More of the same fails to feed love s flame
Till you wake up to find it's too late
Human touch sustains the release of endorphins
For both the giver and receiver.
Never be afraid to hug your partner.
For the language of touch is a reliever.
Always remember to support your spouse
When times of dilemma arise.
The fortress of love will sustain your marriage
If you speak less and listen more, you're wise.
Author: Tom Zart
http://www.skywriting.net/inspirational/poems/the_fortress_of_love.html
This type of poetry is a ballad because it tells a helping story and can't be made into a song.
Boost of confidence
Dont look back,
just forget,
keep straight,
just don’t quit
be strong,
don’t car if your wrong,
don’t lie, but always try,
have confidence, but don’t be cocky,
walk tall and never sloutchy.
be who you are, not what everyone wants you to be,
be open minded but close your eyes if you cant see.
trust those you know,
know those you trust,
hope you know the differance
between love and lust.
good things come to those that wait,
but tose that wait end up too late,
never make plans,
just set a date.
feelings change so fast,
its hard to tell which ones will last,
and some are better forever masked.
fairytale love,
just as dreams with happily ever after ending themes,
of castles, queens, knights, and kings,
fade away with the morning sun,
and end up nothing as they seem.
Author: Malorie Genoff
http://poemhunter.com/poem/boost-of-confidence/Boost of confidence
This type of poetry is a lyric because it can be put into a song and ryhmes.
just forget,
keep straight,
just don’t quit
be strong,
don’t car if your wrong,
don’t lie, but always try,
have confidence, but don’t be cocky,
walk tall and never sloutchy.
be who you are, not what everyone wants you to be,
be open minded but close your eyes if you cant see.
trust those you know,
know those you trust,
hope you know the differance
between love and lust.
good things come to those that wait,
but tose that wait end up too late,
never make plans,
just set a date.
feelings change so fast,
its hard to tell which ones will last,
and some are better forever masked.
fairytale love,
just as dreams with happily ever after ending themes,
of castles, queens, knights, and kings,
fade away with the morning sun,
and end up nothing as they seem.
Author: Malorie Genoff
http://poemhunter.com/poem/boost-of-confidence/Boost of confidence
This type of poetry is a lyric because it can be put into a song and ryhmes.
Done
Now that you know everything, i have no reason to hide, be shy, or cry.i can fly, im free, this you an see.
i no longer dream of fairy lands, queens, and kings, but now i see things as they be and i know the things that really matter most to me.ive learned my lesson fair and square...take the hard road if you dare, where at the end all you have to offer is a handshake and a stare. jsut know whos really your friends and which ones truly care. look into the future, not the air. if you want a good life start young, there will be time later for fun.
Cause when your old and you look back, your life is DONE!
Author: Malorie Genoff
http://poemhunter.com/poem/done-4/
This type of poetry is a ballad because it tells a story of tells a story of someones life.
i no longer dream of fairy lands, queens, and kings, but now i see things as they be and i know the things that really matter most to me.ive learned my lesson fair and square...take the hard road if you dare, where at the end all you have to offer is a handshake and a stare. jsut know whos really your friends and which ones truly care. look into the future, not the air. if you want a good life start young, there will be time later for fun.
Cause when your old and you look back, your life is DONE!
Author: Malorie Genoff
http://poemhunter.com/poem/done-4/
This type of poetry is a ballad because it tells a story of tells a story of someones life.
My Decision
I dont wanna go,but i dont wanna stay,i cant tell the differance between guessin and knowing, i dont know if i should show it, or hide it, lie about it and denie it. I am who i am, i be who i be. when people look at me i want them to see the real me, not what someone else wants me to be. its easy to tell someone to change but ya aint helpin unless your part of the soulution, when kids grow up seein their parents shootin and bein stupid. we only know what we see but thts not ow it has ta be. they say were a product of our enviroment, imthe best of both sides, the good and bad, if they were ever to collide.....but do i wanna keep living like this? only i can decide.
Malorie Genoff
Type of poetry:This poem is a ballad because it talks about someone life and what there doing while this person kids are seeing all this.
http://poemhunter.com/poem/my-decision/
Malorie Genoff
Type of poetry:This poem is a ballad because it talks about someone life and what there doing while this person kids are seeing all this.
http://poemhunter.com/poem/my-decision/
Choices
Why did i let myself fall for
a girl of great Charm and beauty
guess i should have asked her
before her old ex did.
know i'll never know what could've ,should've and,would've been.
This type of poetry is Free Verse.
The author is Ryan Jenkins.
a girl of great Charm and beauty
guess i should have asked her
before her old ex did.
know i'll never know what could've ,should've and,would've been.
This type of poetry is Free Verse.
The author is Ryan Jenkins.
Your Life
Beer, Drugs, Women
Of all the choices he made
Why did he follow these
At one point it may have been cool to him
To live in a place that had a lot of money
But none of it went with him
To a place in which he will forever scream.
This type of poetry Epitaph.
Author is Ryan Jenkins.
Of all the choices he made
Why did he follow these
At one point it may have been cool to him
To live in a place that had a lot of money
But none of it went with him
To a place in which he will forever scream.
This type of poetry Epitaph.
Author is Ryan Jenkins.
The Decision
Here lies a man
With great mind
And sense
oh number11224
Why did you jump that fence?
This type of poetry is an Epitah.
The author is Ryan Jenkins.
With great mind
And sense
oh number11224
Why did you jump that fence?
This type of poetry is an Epitah.
The author is Ryan Jenkins.
"The Secret Letter"
Among the cobwebbed attic treasures
Memories of yesteryear
Books and pictures, notes well weathered
Some brought laughter, some brought tears
She rummaged through the souvenirs
For hours and hours in reminisce
Childhood friends and high school proms
Her first real date, her first real kiss
Then she stumbled on a box
Of keepsakes from her mother's day
Little secret well-kept treasures
Opened now to light of day
She read the letters from her father
Words of love that brought her tears
She walked back through her mother's youth
Recapturing the long lost years
One more letter left unopened
At the bottom of the box
She sat and stared at it in wonder
Brushing back her golden locks
Dare she read the secret letter
From her mother's unknown youth
This box of treasures kindly quenching
Thirst for knowledge of the truth
She tore the envelope wide open
Pulled the letter from inside
And in the musty attic air
She read it slowly as she cried
It was a letter full of love
Not written in her father's hand
Addressed "Dear Rosebud" at the top
A letter from another man
It told of his undying love
And promised her that he would be
Beside her always in this life
And ever through eternity
The letter was unsigned of course
And barely finished in its haste
The ink was stained with teardrops
Of a love that now had gone to waste
She'd had a vision of her mother
Only seen in photographs
And always looking like an angel
Full of love and joyful laughs
And now the vision had been shattered
Now the truth had been exposed
A letter to a "Rosebud"
And her mother was the lovely rose
She took the letter to her father
And through her tears revealed the truth
Her mother had another love
The mother that she never knew
Her father tearfully then nodded
Trembling as he read the page
He said sometimes the written word
Reveals the truth from age to age
He held her tight and said these words
This secret I already knew
This letter's in your mother's hand
The "Rosebud", darling, it was you.
http://www.silentwords.com/BalladPoems/secretletter.html
This is a Ballad.
by Elizabeth Santos from Pottstown, PA
Memories of yesteryear
Books and pictures, notes well weathered
Some brought laughter, some brought tears
She rummaged through the souvenirs
For hours and hours in reminisce
Childhood friends and high school proms
Her first real date, her first real kiss
Then she stumbled on a box
Of keepsakes from her mother's day
Little secret well-kept treasures
Opened now to light of day
She read the letters from her father
Words of love that brought her tears
She walked back through her mother's youth
Recapturing the long lost years
One more letter left unopened
At the bottom of the box
She sat and stared at it in wonder
Brushing back her golden locks
Dare she read the secret letter
From her mother's unknown youth
This box of treasures kindly quenching
Thirst for knowledge of the truth
She tore the envelope wide open
Pulled the letter from inside
And in the musty attic air
She read it slowly as she cried
It was a letter full of love
Not written in her father's hand
Addressed "Dear Rosebud" at the top
A letter from another man
It told of his undying love
And promised her that he would be
Beside her always in this life
And ever through eternity
The letter was unsigned of course
And barely finished in its haste
The ink was stained with teardrops
Of a love that now had gone to waste
She'd had a vision of her mother
Only seen in photographs
And always looking like an angel
Full of love and joyful laughs
And now the vision had been shattered
Now the truth had been exposed
A letter to a "Rosebud"
And her mother was the lovely rose
She took the letter to her father
And through her tears revealed the truth
Her mother had another love
The mother that she never knew
Her father tearfully then nodded
Trembling as he read the page
He said sometimes the written word
Reveals the truth from age to age
He held her tight and said these words
This secret I already knew
This letter's in your mother's hand
The "Rosebud", darling, it was you.
http://www.silentwords.com/BalladPoems/secretletter.html
This is a Ballad.
by Elizabeth Santos from Pottstown, PA
THREE WOODEN CROSSES
A farmer and a teacher, a hooker and a preacher
Riding on a midnight bus bound for Mexico
One's headed for vacation, one for higher education
And two of them were searching for lost souls
That driver never ever saw the stop sign
And eighteen wheelers can't stop on a dime.
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
Why there's not four of them, Heaven only knows
I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It's what you leave behind you when you go.
That farmer left a harvest, a home and eighty acres
The faith an' love for growing things in his young son's heart.
An' that teacher left her wisdom in the minds of lots of children
Did her best to give them all a better start
And that preacher whispered, "Can't you see the Promised Land?"
As he laid his blood-stained bible in that hooker's hand.
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
Why there's not four of them, Heaven only knows
I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It's what you leave behind you when you go.
That's the story that our preacher told last Sunday
As he held that blood-stained bible up for all of us to see
He said, "Bless the farmer, and the teacher, and the preacher
Who gave this Bible to my mamma, who read it to me."
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
Why there's not four of them, now I guess we know
It's not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It's what you leave behind you when you go.
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway.
Randy Travis is the author.
Type of poetry: Ballad
Hope you like this.
http://www.stinalisa.com/WoodenCrosses.html
Riding on a midnight bus bound for Mexico
One's headed for vacation, one for higher education
And two of them were searching for lost souls
That driver never ever saw the stop sign
And eighteen wheelers can't stop on a dime.
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
Why there's not four of them, Heaven only knows
I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It's what you leave behind you when you go.
That farmer left a harvest, a home and eighty acres
The faith an' love for growing things in his young son's heart.
An' that teacher left her wisdom in the minds of lots of children
Did her best to give them all a better start
And that preacher whispered, "Can't you see the Promised Land?"
As he laid his blood-stained bible in that hooker's hand.
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
Why there's not four of them, Heaven only knows
I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It's what you leave behind you when you go.
That's the story that our preacher told last Sunday
As he held that blood-stained bible up for all of us to see
He said, "Bless the farmer, and the teacher, and the preacher
Who gave this Bible to my mamma, who read it to me."
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
Why there's not four of them, now I guess we know
It's not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It's what you leave behind you when you go.
There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway.
Randy Travis is the author.
Type of poetry: Ballad
Hope you like this.
http://www.stinalisa.com/WoodenCrosses.html
Pray Without Ceasing
I'm tested and tried
For my Faith every day
I cannot always understand
Even though I humbly pray.
Tests of pain with suffering
So often come in my way
Temptations to sin allure me
Even though I humbly pray.
It's an honor to serve God
With Faith, I trust and obey
I'll just keep walking on
And continue to humbly pray.
Trials and burdens test me
Blue skies often turn to gray
God gives strength to endure
So I'll trust and humbly pray.
God is faithful and true
Troubles at His feet I lay
He will see me on through
If I'm faithful to humbly pray.
I must pray without ceasing
Living for God is the only way
I may not always understand
Even though I humbly pray.
Author: Leona I. Miller
This type of poetry is a ballad because this poem tells a story of a mans life.
http://www.skywriting.net/inspirational/poems/pray_without_ceasing.html
For my Faith every day
I cannot always understand
Even though I humbly pray.
Tests of pain with suffering
So often come in my way
Temptations to sin allure me
Even though I humbly pray.
It's an honor to serve God
With Faith, I trust and obey
I'll just keep walking on
And continue to humbly pray.
Trials and burdens test me
Blue skies often turn to gray
God gives strength to endure
So I'll trust and humbly pray.
God is faithful and true
Troubles at His feet I lay
He will see me on through
If I'm faithful to humbly pray.
I must pray without ceasing
Living for God is the only way
I may not always understand
Even though I humbly pray.
Author: Leona I. Miller
This type of poetry is a ballad because this poem tells a story of a mans life.
http://www.skywriting.net/inspirational/poems/pray_without_ceasing.html
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)