M poem

     Never give up in life, Man!     Never give up in life.     Life is the greatest gift    No one here is misfit.     We need to know our goal      And nicely play our role.     Why to fear with dark     When there are millions stars.               Why to sink in despair,       when hope resides everywhere .      what a path without a turn,        what a flower without a thorn.        What a joy without sadness.        What a goal without weariness.         Everything is for a reason,         like we need every season.         Face the hurdles with a smile.          Never give up in this life. 

         Love....             There are moments                   when            behind  your       smile, there &  pain...       There  are  days           when  behind               your   joy,           there  are  tears.              I  just  want  you  to                  Know  that                behind  you,           will  always  be  me.                          I'll   take  care  of           you all your  life.          I  will hold you and           won't let you  fall.                    You offered me what                   I could  never                   buy           "love "  .           And  so...       When  you            feel  alone,     look  at the                      Spaces   between                      Your       fingers...                          ...   and       remember                     that  in  those               Spaces,  are  my  fingers                 inte

       I readied myself to        write and  closed         my eyes looking           for inspiration               " and my heart                 dicated            three  words         "  I miss  you. "         I miss your gaze              telling  me          " I love  you. "                 The softnrss             Of you            caresses ,          your  hands..         I miss your voice,                   your             words  full         of  tenderness             .. and I even miss            your moments of            silence.. the ones            that say so  much..            I miss everything            about you because                        You              are my  world...             Your hugs, your                    Stories,                Your   kisses..              I miss you  a             thousand different              was, and the night      

               I love you for                everything  that you                give me and for                everything  you are.                        There are no words                  to express everything                  that I feel for you.                                   There is no song                       as beautiful                     as the music                    of your voice.                There is no flower                   as  pretty  as                       the  one                    On your smile.                 Nothing moves so many                 things in me like                when your lips                  tell me "I love You".                                The better part of                   my day is  when                   I  am with  you.              My most brilliant  moments                          are the  ones                    I  share  with  you.     

                                                                - by.   Walt Whitman  And who are thou? Said I to soft-falling  shower,  Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer,  as here translated: I am the poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,  Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,   Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely  from 'd,  altogether changed, and yet the same, I descend to lave the droughts,  atomies, dust-layers of the globe,  And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;                                    And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,  And make pure and beautify it;  (For song,  issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wandering  Rock' d or unreck 'd,  duly with love returns.)                                                                                           

                                                 -  Adrienne  Rich The trees inside are moving out into the forest,  the forest that was empty all these days  Where no bird could sit no insect hide no sun bury its feet in shadow  the forest that was empty all these nights  will be full of trees by morning.  All night the roots work  to disengage themselves from the cracks in the veranda floor.  The leaves strain toward the glass small twigs stiff with exertion  long -cramped boughs stuffing under the roof like newly discharged patients half-dazed, moving to the clinic doors.                      I sit inside,  doors open to the veranda  writing long letters in which I scarcely mention the departure of the forest from the house.  The night is fresh, the whole moon shines in a sky still open.  the smell of leaves and lichen still reaches like a voice into the rooms.  My head is full of whispers  which tomorrow  will  be si

                                  Elizabeth Jennings I do not understand this child Though we have lived together now In the same house for years. I know Nothing of him, so try to build Up a relationship from how  He was when small.  Yet have I liked The seed I spent or sown or it where The land is his and none of mine?  We speak like strangers, there's no sign  Of understanding in the air.  This child is built to my design  Yet what he loves I cannot share.                Silence surrounds us. I would have  Him prodigal, returning to His father's house, the home he knew,  Rather than see him make and move His world. I would forgive him too,  Shaping from sorrow a new love.  Father and son, we both must live  On the same globe and the same land,  He speaks: I cannot understand  Myself, why anger grows from grief.  We each put out an empty hand,  Longing for something to forgive. 

                                                 By-Robert Frost   Some say the world will end in fire   Some say in ice.   From what I' ve tasted of desire   I hold with those who favour fire.                   But if it had to perish twice,   I think I know enough of hate   To say that for destruction ice   Is also great   And would suffice.  

                        Poem of the day.                                                    by-  Leslie Norris                       He stalks in his vivid stripes      The few steps of his cage,        On pads of velvet quite,         In his quite rage,             He should be lurking in shadow,      Sliding through long grass      Near the water hole       Where plump deer pass.       He should be snarling around houses      At the jungle's edge,       Baring his white fangs, his claws,       Terrorising the village !            But he's locked in a concrete cell,       His strength behind bars,       Stalking the length of his cage,       Ignoring visitors.           He hears the last voice at night,       The patrolling cars,        And stares with his brilliant eyes       At the brilliant stars.