deep poems about life

Life Lessons Learned at Your Knee – A Poem by Roy Pullam

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I was not prepared
For the long separation
A complete independence
I never wanted
You did not see gray
Your values
So absolute
That I often felt
I fell short
In your eyes
You had no time
For hate
Though to many
Poverty and trash
Went in the same bin
And though
You were knocked down
You never stayed down
With the feeling
That only cowards
Bemoaned their faith
That I
Should never stop trying
Should never settle
For ease
It rings in my ears
The bell of truth
The sound of your voice

School Mornings – A Poem by Roy Pullam

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I lay in my bed
Sinking in the feather down
The cover
High on my neck
The fire in the grate
Banked to save
The coals
For the morning
The cold gathering
In the back
Of the room
I could see my breath
The chill
On my face
Causing me
To burrow
Beneath the quilts
Gradually my ears
Regained feeling
I slept
A deep dreamless sleep
Until the clock
Urged me
From my cocoon
I took the poker
Stirring the fire
Reawakening the slumbering flames
Gathering the ashes
Into a shovel
Loading a bucket
Taking them out
Exchanging them
For the black fuel
That warmed the house
I waited
Watching the fingers
Of flame
Break apart
The lumps
Now warm enough
The water heated
On the kitchen stove
Poured in a #2 washtub
For my morning bath
Toweling myself off
I sat close
In my underwear
The warmth
Soaking in
Like a lizard
On a warm rock
I cherished
The moments
Stirring only
To get dressed
To begin
The long walk
To school

Valhalla Can Wait – A Poem by Paul Tristram

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There’s another Spring a-coming
after this long, bitter Winter.
The path is twisting fiercely
but that does not signify an ending
merely a new chapter beginning.
I’ve still strength enough
to work the morning anvil
and carve miracles from wood.
I’ve Fathered all my Offspring
but I’m yet to watch them grow.
My wheat and barley
are only shoulder-high…
there’s still a-way to go.
Before the grinning Reaper
takes a swipe
and a-tumbles me like snow.
My battle-axe still has room
for a few fresh notches yet.
I can thunder with the best of them,
my instincts remain sharp and true.
There’s another barn to build somewhere,
always more horse’s hooves to shoe.
I’ve learnt my lessons hard and well,
I take comfort in small pleasures.
Whilst striving always higher,
each extra sunrise is a gift, a treasure.

More at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.

Don’t Despair | Kylie Jenson

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Don’t despair…
It won’t be long
Before they hear
Your call and
Come

Use your voice
It’s beautiful
Fresh
Kind
Yours

I know your value
Like a gem
You shine brightly
And make the
World better

You are the
Most beautiful
Being in the world
Realize that
And live

A Circle | Lucia Daramus

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sheep are running, and running, and running
to the light bumps of the sun
which is falling down on the yellow-grass
nature is alive! Alive, alive , alive….
a woman is carrying a bottle of milk
she is thirsty , she is drinking
in her vein is dripping grapes of life from the milk
her eyes are spinning, and spinning, and spinning
offering a glass of milk is like a oxygen mouth
she says.
A golden rain is penetrating the earth
songbirds are flying on the field
a dog is barking to a child
with gold-silver in his hair under day light
this is life, yes, this is life!
but time is passing, and passing, and passing
away, far away –
tears in the black sky
an yellow leaf is dying on the tree branch
finally it is kissing a dead man
above life …..death
above death ….life
a circle –

More at http://romanianwriters.com/author.php?id=121.

My Mother Knows | Laura Simmons

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My mother is old
But make no mistake
She knows.
She knows how people can be cruel
And she’s having none of it.
She knew a hungry boy
Who came begging at her door
“Fill my bag to here, Miss Miposi
I want a little more. ”
She knew a girl whose body was twisted
But whose mind was keen.
She was sent to a place that was dark and hidden
So her illness couldn’t be seen.
And two close friends
Precious and true
Had been starved and tortured
Because they were Jews.
So don’t tell my mom it’s o.k
If she’s kept in the hall all day,
Wet and cold and soaked in blood.
Because, you see, my mother knows.
And she’s having none of it.

Forever Young | Walid Abdallah

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My heart is forever young
A divine hymn to be sung
I love everyone and always forgive
As twice as I take, I always give
I try to be nice as possible as I can
Of peace and love I am a great fan
Life is short to waste in hate
Let tolerance be our only fate
Love people and nature around
Only the base of justice we must found
Leave good mark on each heart you meet
Let your nice memory your main good feat
Whenever you go spread love and affection
Be much nicer than people’s prediction
Treat everyone equally be always fair
Show everyone your respect and care
Being respectful is something you never regret
You will be rewarded more than you expect
We are on earth to make it a paradise
Listen to me and follow my advice
Dream big and complain less
Sadness never lasts and neither does happiness
Think positively and always be optimistic
You can’t change your fate by being pessimistic
Let live, love and learn your goal
Carve them deep in your soul
The heart that doesn’t know envy lives longer
It has better destiny and grows stronger
My heart is forever young
A divine hymn to be sung

More at https://hellopoetry.com/walid-abdallah/.

Aftermath | Stan Morrison

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After my mother’s death, her belongings devitalized
Her furniture: tables and chairs in a secondhand store
Her flatware; somewhat less than service for eight
Her clothes: just rags in some cartons for Goodwill
Floating lifeless amputated from person place time
All wrapped up with some flowers, and a plain pine box
A graveside ceremony, a polyester rabbi, a summer rain
A granite engraver just itching to make his marks
An estate lawyer salivating for his probate fees
Everyone is just trying hard to make a living

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