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Sep 25, 2014 03:48PM
This is where you can post poems you wrote or a poem you like that was written by someone else
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What Is Youth?
Youth is not a time of life, it is a state of mind. It is not a matter of ripe cheeks, red lips, supple knees; it is a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is a freshness of the deep springs of life. Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of of the appetite of adventure over the love of ease. This often exsits in a man of fifty more than a boy of twenty. Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years; people grow old only by desserting their ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
Worry, doubt, self-distruct, fear and despair, these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust. Whether seventy or seventeen there is in every being's heart the love of wonder, the sweet amazement of the stars and starlight things and thoughts, the undaunted challenge of events, the unfailing child-like appetite for what is next, and the joy and the game of life.
You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
In the central place of your heart there is a sensitive station. So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, grandeur, courage, and power from the earth, from men and from the infinite, so long as you are young.
~Author Unknown
Youth is not a time of life, it is a state of mind. It is not a matter of ripe cheeks, red lips, supple knees; it is a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is a freshness of the deep springs of life. Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of of the appetite of adventure over the love of ease. This often exsits in a man of fifty more than a boy of twenty. Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years; people grow old only by desserting their ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
Worry, doubt, self-distruct, fear and despair, these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust. Whether seventy or seventeen there is in every being's heart the love of wonder, the sweet amazement of the stars and starlight things and thoughts, the undaunted challenge of events, the unfailing child-like appetite for what is next, and the joy and the game of life.
You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
In the central place of your heart there is a sensitive station. So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, grandeur, courage, and power from the earth, from men and from the infinite, so long as you are young.
~Author Unknown
Should You Go First
Should you go first and I remain
To walk the road alone,
I’ll live in memory’s garden dear,
With happy days we’ve known.
In spring I’ll watch for roses red
When fades the lilac blue,
In early fall when brown leaves call
I’ll catch a glimpse of you.
Should you go first and I remain
For battles to be fought,
Each thing you’ve touched along the way
Will be a hollowed spot.
I’ll hear your voice, I’ll see your smile,
Though blindly I may grope,
The memory of your helping hand
Will bouy me on with hope.
Should you go first and I remain
To finish with the scroll,
No length’ning shadows shall creep in
To make this life seem droll.
We’ve known so much of happiness
We’ve had our cup of joy
And memory is one gift of God
That death cannot destroy.
Should you go first and I remain
One thing I’d have you do;
Walk slowly down that long, lone path,
For soon I’ll follow you.
I’ll want to know each step you take
That I may walk the same.
For someday, down that lonely road,
You’ll hear me call your name.
~Albert Rowswell
Should you go first and I remain
To walk the road alone,
I’ll live in memory’s garden dear,
With happy days we’ve known.
In spring I’ll watch for roses red
When fades the lilac blue,
In early fall when brown leaves call
I’ll catch a glimpse of you.
Should you go first and I remain
For battles to be fought,
Each thing you’ve touched along the way
Will be a hollowed spot.
I’ll hear your voice, I’ll see your smile,
Though blindly I may grope,
The memory of your helping hand
Will bouy me on with hope.
Should you go first and I remain
To finish with the scroll,
No length’ning shadows shall creep in
To make this life seem droll.
We’ve known so much of happiness
We’ve had our cup of joy
And memory is one gift of God
That death cannot destroy.
Should you go first and I remain
One thing I’d have you do;
Walk slowly down that long, lone path,
For soon I’ll follow you.
I’ll want to know each step you take
That I may walk the same.
For someday, down that lonely road,
You’ll hear me call your name.
~Albert Rowswell
What Happens to a Dream Deferred
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or feser like a sore-
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-
Like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
Like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
~Langston Hughes
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or feser like a sore-
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-
Like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
Like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
~Langston Hughes
