Prisoners

This is a place of struggle and fears,
& everyone has those truths and tears.
Here people are crushed by the powerful Soo nice ,
But in the end who wins is rather wise.
.
In this place they get poorer or richer,
Hopeless foolish poor, and the Lynching Rich butchers.
But in the end everyone’s to demise,
But most are prisoners of their own device.
.
You will fail, everyone does.
The critics are flies, they will buzz
Sooner will you hear you own million cries
But don’t you care, fix your eyes on the prize
.
Things will be hard, the hardest stuff.
It it would be easy, you won’t be tough.
And if you fail, just stand up and Revice
And one day, you will, you must rise

Mother

I know I make mistakes,

Hurt you in the heart.

I know I played wrong stakes,

But still

You love me and play your part.

.

I know I did wrong,

Played damned lies with peers

But you stood strong.

Still

Wiping off your tears.

.

I know you’ll love me

Even in the darkest hours

You’ve been through the hell

I see,

I can see your invisible scars.

.

.

I love you mom.

Dead Poets Society

Dead poets society is that movie which gave me an inspiration to start writing poetry, hope it inspires you as well.

As said by Henry David Thoreau

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms…”

this is one of the scenes from the the movie

If you guys liked it let me know in the comments below

Father’s Day.

Fathers are wonderful people
Too little understood,
And we do not sing their praises
As often as we should…
For, somehow, Father seems to be
The man who pays the bills,
While Mother binds up little hurts
And nurses all our ills…

And Father struggles daily
To live up to “HIS IMAGE”
As protector and provider
And “hero or the scrimmage”…

And perhaps that is the reason
We sometimes get the notion,
That Fathers are not subject
To the thing we call emotion,

But if you look inside Dad’s heart,
Where no one else can see
You’ll find he’s sentimental
And as “soft” as he can be…

But he’s so busy every day
In the grueling race of life,
He leaves the sentimental stuff
To his partner and his wife…

But Fathers are just WONDERFUL
In a million different ways,
And they merit loving compliments
And accolade of praise,

For the only reason Dad aspires
To fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him
And to bring them happiness…

And like OUR HEAVENLY FATHER,
He’s a guardian and a guide,
Someone that we can count on
To be ALWAYS ON OUR SIDE.

Happy Father’s day to all fathers out there

Don’t quit

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won if he’d stuck it out.
Don’t give up, though the pace seems slow –
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out –
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are –
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit –
It’s when things seem worst that you mustn’t quit.

Inspiration week day 3.

Above is a famous poem by Edgar Guest

Life like a bike

pexels-photo-287398

Me! Bike
Road
and life

Honey ! Money
Strife
And thrife

Money ! Petrol
Engine
And soul

Destination ! Role
Purpose
And goal

Me ! Bike
Road
And life.

Hey guys i tried to do something new.
I dont know whether it is known type of poem .
Please feel free to comment.
And give some feedback for improvement

Materialism

This Materialistic World,
With Materialistic Men,
What good will it avail of me ?
An Instrument maybe.
With Materialistic Goals,
And Materialistic Aims.
What good will it serve for thee?
An efficient Machine maybe.
They said !!
That the machines would take over the world.
But isn’t it already theirs to be??
We are in a dream maybe .
All this money in the world,
The fame, an image.
Aren’t those bars of prison.
Don’t you see.
We all are blind prisoners maybe

His World

Alone he stood, with a friend’s disguise
& For her was he willing to die
But she twisted him with scampish lies
While he concealed his sigh.||
But death wont touch him soon
Because he was no scamming prick
Righteous for the love and fortune
He had love no trick.||
And she payed every single sin she did
And all the prizes he won
Her beauty then worth a quid
With all her winnings scorned.||
And there he stood with all the cause.
And all success he whorled.
With a new life a new love.
His was the world.||