Cursed Immortality

Maybe being immortal is a curse,

life is supposed to be short.

To see this world as a shortfall verse,

To give and take with a cruel snort.

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Maybe being immortal is a curse.,

To watch loved one die.

Till no one else but you remain.

Not a person to talk to ,nor to spry

.

Maybe being immortal is a curse,

With weak bones and dimming sight.

Fragile & brittle with an empty purse,

Cracking bones and sick delight.

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Maybe being immortal is a curse,

& maybe the great ones figured it out

& maybe they left a trail to us

To follow it without a doubt.

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They found a way to immortality.

& they still live on , while being dead.

Just a matter of figuring it out.

To lie beside them,

To be immortal then.

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

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

IF

By Rudyard Kipling

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!

Hey guys it’s day 2 of the Inspiration Week. Hope you like this Masterpiece . Stay tuned .

The Inspiration Week

Hey guys it’s been long since I posted .

I Herby challenge you to post inspiring poems who have motivated you or ignited your minds with wisdom and fire .

Post 1 poem every day for a week which inspires you or have inspired you in a long run .

Comment “let’s do it ” in comments if you accept it . And do mention me in the post

Here goes my first poem.

It Couldn’t Be Done .

By Edgar Guest

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done
But he with a chuckle replied
That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one
Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.He started to sing as he tackled the thing. That couldn’t be done, and he did it!

Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it;”
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat

And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure,
There are thousands to point out to you one by one,

The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.

To Ex…..

All these lies beneath your skin.
Smile’s sharp but the heart’s thin.
I’ve seen many colors and shapes,
Never seen any bitter grapes

You left me! Numb and sore,
I don’t know you, not anymore.
It was you, I never betrayed
All those promises, now strayed

I wish you to be left with ache
Pain’s strength or whatever you make.
Things we had are long lost
Good times are paid by greater cost

All your mistakes will never be soothed.
I was a tree, you were the wood.
I can no longer carry this overwhelming weight, I’ve lost my love, lost my fate