This extremely famous poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye has been read at countless funerals and public occasions. The author composed this poem in a moment of inspiration and scribbled it on a paper bag. She wrote it to comfort a family friend who had just lost her mother and was unable to even visit her grave.
In this poem Dylan Thomas asserts that all men on their death beds should resist death as strongly as they can. They should only leave this world kicking and screaming, furious that they have to die at all. This poem was written by Dylan Thomas for his dying father.
Beta Cancri is the brightest star in the constellation of cancer, his zodiac sign. This is where the character experienced deep lost in space. With him gazing to the stars, he constantly asks all of the stars of his savior to save him from this vacuum of space. He is hopeless, but still searches desperately. Unfolding every galaxy, every star to find his safety. Tetrabiblos is the ultimate book of the stars authored by Ptolemy. In this poem, this is his one way ticket to outer space. He would risk everything to go back with his sanctuary.
Though this poem, Longfellow does not want to accept life as an ’empty dream’. According to him, death is for body, the soul lives on forever. We should love to live the journey of life instead of just aiming for the grave.
In the poem, Emily talks about hope, something that’s got feathers and perches in the soul, and sings wordless songs like a beautiful bird.
Its sound can be heard in the chilliest land and in the strangest sea but never loud and clear. It takes a part of the soul of the person having it.
I often think about the sky and how it’s admired by many. Some for the cloud patterns others for the star constellations. How a person can be so intently infatuated with something that’s constantly changing,…
Loneliness can be a terrifyingly peaceful luxury, Once you get used to it, You wouldn’t bother to disrupt it with anyone’s presence. . .
This poem talks about a bizarre conversation between two individuals facing a serious threat to their lives, but still too engrossed in their comfort zones, unwilling to help each other. Had they helped each other they might as well, would have survived.
A word is a extremely powerful thing Thrown cruelly, it will fu***** sting But compassionately it can create Listen, And let this wisdom propagate
A word is a extremely powerful thingThrown cruelly, it will fu***** stingBut compassionately it can createListen, And let this wisdom propagate The words of the cruel-hearted cut deepAnd can leave people stand without a peepLike…
Who Sees Seeing, by J. W. Cassandra, my own poem. The poem belongs to my volume VII, In the Mirror of Forms, cycle Existence of Essential. Original version was written in Hungarian, in 2012 yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. The poem makes a particular sense of the Sage and the Fool and that of the cradle and coffin.
Who Sees Seeing, by J. W. Cassandra, my own poem. The poem belongs to my volume VII, In the Mirror of Forms, cycle Existence of Essential. Original version was written in Hungarian, in 2012 yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. The poem makes a particular sense of the Sage and the Fool and that of the cradle and coffin.
My love for her was like A merry go round Round and round it goes Where it stop nobody knows. Oh yeah, Words alone couldn’t explain, The feeling she gave me It took me to places never been before. Everything was so well Until doubt took over our love Does she love me? Does she love me not? I realised loving can hurt One can love someone to an extent Letting that person go becomes hard And this is what makes us humans.
Somebody Is Knocking, by J. W. Cassandra, my own poem. The poem belongs to my volume XVI, Source-light, cycle Emptiness-palace. Essential version was written in Hungarian, in 2017 yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. The poem gets a singular actuality from the fact that today is my birthday: a kind of account.
