Share a Poem or your favorite quote!

Missing My Sister

Passed Away Christmas Eve

2013

:heart:

I’m gonna throw my grass out the window
Crumple up my papers too
Give away my speed, Cause all I’m gonna need
Is just a little bit of love from you 
And we’ll be makin’ it natural

And ain’t it just about time
That stuff I was so keen on
I no longer have to lean on
Cause your love’s enough to keep me high 
Now if any you heads want some Panama red
All you gotta do is to reach out your hand
I’ll trade my stash for just about enough cash
To buy a simple golden wedding band 
And we’ll be makin’ it natural

But don’t you ask me how
It’s been the cause of all my sorrow
But I think I’ll start tomorrow
‘Cause I sure could use a hit right now 
But I’ll throw it out the window, some day
Give away my cocaine
Bust my spikes and flush a million mikes
Of acid right down the drain
And we’ll be makin’ it natural, makin’ it natural… 

Shel Silverstein

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; 
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise; 

If you can dream- -and not make dreams your master; 
If you can think- -and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools; 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on! ‘

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings- -nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And- -which is more- -you’ll be a Man, my son! 

Rudyard Kipling

When you and I were young, my boy,
When you and I were young.
When you and I were young, the cool
And fresh wind fanned our fevered brows
When tumbling o’er the scented mows,
Or stripping by the dimpling pool,
Sedge-fringed about its shimmering face,
Save where we’d worn an ent’ring place.
How with our shouts the calm banks rung!
How flashed the spray as we plunged in, —
Pure gems that never caused a sin!

When you and I were young, my boy,
When you and I were young.
When you and I were young, we heard
All sounds of Nature with delight, —
The whirr of wing in sudden flight,
The chirping of the baby-bird.
The columbine’s red bells were rung;
The locust’s vested chorus sung;
While every wind his zithern strung
To high and holy-sounding keys,
And played sonatas in the trees —
When you and I were young, my boy,
When you and I were young.

When you and I were young, we knew
To shout and laugh, to work and play,
And night was partner to the day
In all our joys. So swift time flew
On silent wings that, ere we wist,
The fleeting years had fled unmissed;
And from our hearts this cry was wrung —
To fill with fond regret and tears
The days of our remaining years —
‘When you and I were young, my boy,
When you and I were young.’ 

Paul Laurence Dunbar

I know why the caged bird sings – Poem by Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees.
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

Maya Angelou

The sunset is no less beautiful than the sunrise.  

 (regarding growing old)

We spend precious hours fearing the inevitable.

It would be wise to use that time adoring our families,

cherising our friends,

and living our lives.

Maya Angelou