I have’nt done any poetry in a while, so please tell me how this one is.
The Meaning of Life!?
Have you ever sat down and asked why am i here, in hopes that the responce would be so near so close around a corner or two but soon enough it is revealed to you yet you still wait even at the end of your minds gate for the answer?
Well i have been enlighten my grasp on reality tightened, for the truth which shall be revealed comes only if you follow my lead. The reason for life is choice what matters is your voice what you want, what you choose, the things you love, the things you abuse. Learning from your mistakes no matter how long it may take.
The Good, The Bad, The Awfully Rad they all share the same chances but it’s is up to
their choice and which opinions they voice, which my live on for good or bad but if life is forgotten and all thing are rotten then
The mean of life would be nothing .
We live to be something and we are or acheviement have gone far…
The meaning of life is choice just as we take it for life is what we make it.
Ok don’t hate i admit i suck with happy poetry…but i can try..erm
__________Title: Happyness or some thing like that__________________
Happiness the feeling we want,
the euphoria which clouds our thoughts.
The grass which grows green just where you are
people love this feeling near or far.
the feeling most like ,
the feeling you get with your first bike.
True Happiness unexplanable,
True Happiness unobtainable.
Heh… I guess even when I try I just can’t fully surpress sorrows…srry.
This is an old one too…
_____________________________”The House”_______________________
Always having to look in and never being inside, and wishing and waiting to be invited in.
Looking in through the window at the many rooms inside. A room with Jocks, a room Jerks ,and one with drama queens inside.
I used to move from room to room when I was in the house. From Geeks to Gangs from Gangs to Jock but cuold never settle down. Once too lazy to try any better I found myself in the Lazy room with no one to help me when i fell and wouldn’t get myself up. Any where I went I never belong not even the outcasts took me as one of their own. So I got up one day and went through that door. I try not to look back and to never to return.
Outside I saw but only a few of persons who had lived outside that house. They all decided to leave that dreaded house one day ,but the majority really wanted to stay.
I on leaving the house had grown much taller and would never again fit in that house…I pitied the fool…who had pitied himself and left that dreary house. But leaving this house did not really do him wrong for he had found himself the him he lost many years back far and long. As well as this he found some friend the ones who were pure and true who left that house and found themselves and with them my life just flowed.
I knew them and they knew me and so on and on we went and built a shack. but a tragic thing happened and the shack was shook to rubbles on the ground. I knew this was the end of that and decide to go back the house, but as i got closer and closer still I remebered that I had grown and if I went in the house I would always stick and I bent over and just instantly groaned.
I sat and as stair looking in through those windows. Looking in…just looking in. and as I sit here just looking in my brain sparks and ideas fly in. I find my true friends ,these crazy guys outside ,and some weirdos and we all begin constuction of a place for us to fit in. this place is so crazy, and zany ,and it makes no sense. But its a place we call home was built with only six pence.
Now we live in peace any there are barely any feuds. For a house does not make a home, People who care do.
I have’nt done any poetry in a while, so please tell me how this one is.
The Meaning of Life!?
Have you ever sat down and asked why am i here, in hopes that the responce would be so near so close around a corner or two but soon enough it is revealed to you yet you still wait even at the end of your minds gate for the answer?
Well i have been enlighten my grasp on reality tightened, for the truth which shall be revealed comes only if you follow my lead. The reason for life is choice what matters is your voice what you want, what you choose, the things you love, the things you abuse. Learning from your mistakes no matter how long it may take.
The Good, The Bad, The Awfully Rad they all share the same chances but it’s is up to
their choice and which opinions they voice, which my live on for good or bad but if life is forgotten and all thing are rotten then
The mean of life would be nothing .
We live to be something and we are or acheviement have gone far…
The meaning of life is choice just as we take it for life is what we make it.
By: Anagram -> Nebroc Wrec Aka Turtleboy.
plz don’t steal my thoughts
Ok don’t hate i admit i suck with happy poetry…but i can try..erm
__________Title: Happyness or some thing like that__________________
Happiness the feeling we want,
the euphoria which clouds our thoughts.
The grass which grows green just where you are
people love this feeling near or far.
the feeling most like ,
the feeling you get with your first bike.
True Happiness unexplanable,
True Happiness unobtainable.
Heh… I guess even when I try I just can’t fully surpress sorrows…srry.
This is an old one too…
_____________________________”The House”_______________________
Always having to look in and never being inside, and wishing and waiting to be invited in.
Looking in through the window at the many rooms inside. A room with Jocks, a room Jerks ,and one with drama queens inside.
I used to move from room to room when I was in the house. From Geeks to Gangs from Gangs to Jock but cuold never settle down. Once too lazy to try any better I found myself in the Lazy room with no one to help me when i fell and wouldn’t get myself up. Any where I went I never belong not even the outcasts took me as one of their own. So I got up one day and went through that door. I try not to look back and to never to return.
Outside I saw but only a few of persons who had lived outside that house. They all decided to leave that dreaded house one day ,but the majority really wanted to stay.
I on leaving the house had grown much taller and would never again fit in that house…I pitied the fool…who had pitied himself and left that dreary house. But leaving this house did not really do him wrong for he had found himself the him he lost many years back far and long. As well as this he found some friend the ones who were pure and true who left that house and found themselves and with them my life just flowed.
I knew them and they knew me and so on and on we went and built a shack. but a tragic thing happened and the shack was shook to rubbles on the ground. I knew this was the end of that and decide to go back the house, but as i got closer and closer still I remebered that I had grown and if I went in the house I would always stick and I bent over and just instantly groaned.
I sat and as stair looking in through those windows. Looking in…just looking in. and as I sit here just looking in my brain sparks and ideas fly in. I find my true friends ,these crazy guys outside ,and some weirdos and we all begin constuction of a place for us to fit in. this place is so crazy, and zany ,and it makes no sense. But its a place we call home was built with only six pence.
Now we live in peace any there are barely any feuds. For a house does not make a home, People who care do.