Poem #1
When you’re weary
Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all
I’m on your side
When times get rough
And friends just can’t be found
I will lay me down
When you’re down and out
When you’re on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you
I’ll take your part
When darkness comes
And pain is all around
I will lay me down
Sail on Silver Girl,
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
If you need a friend
I’m sailing right behind
I will ease your mind
Poem #2
When the road gets dark
And you can no longer see
Let my love throw a spark
And have a little faith in me
When the tears you cry
Are all you can believe
Just give these loving arms a try
And have a little faith in me
When your secret heart
Cannot speak so easily
Come here baby
From a whisper, start
To have a little faith in me
And when your back's against the wall
Just turn around and you will see
I will catch your fall
Just have a little faith in me
Well, I've been loving you
For such a long, long time
Expecting nothing in return
Just for you to have a little faith in me
You see time, time is our friend
Cause for us there is no end
All you gotta do is
Have a little faith in me
I will hold you up
And your love gives me strength enough
to have a little faith in me
Poem #3
MANY birds and the beating of wings
Make a flinging reckless hum
In the early morning at the rocks
Above the blue pool
Where the gray shadows swim lazy.
In your blue eyes, O reckless child,
I saw today many little wild wishes,
Eager as the great morning.
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1 comment:
I found this great website called words.org
Poems for every occasion, on every topic: gratitude, ingratitude, you name it.
I liked this one in particular:
Refusing at 52 to Write Sonnets
by Thomas Lynch
It came to him that he could nearly count
How many Octobers he had left to him
In increments of ten or, say, eleven
Thus: sixty-three, seventy-four, eighty-five.
He couldn't see himself at ninety-six—
Humanity's advances notwithstanding
In health-care, self-help, or new-age regimens—
What with his habits and family history,
The end he thought is nearer than you think.
The future, thus confined to its contingencies,
The present moment opens like a gift:
The balding month, the grey week, the blue morning,
The hour's routine, the minute's passing glance—
All seem like godsends now. And what to make of this?
At the end the word that comes to him is Thanks.
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