My Attempt At Poetry-Two

Rare People

There are some people rare,
Those who really care,
Those who stand for right,
Those who carry a light;

Who would give one their hand,
Who would understand;
Friendly people sincere,
Holding the truth dear.

Most of all having love
Divine from above.
Having a feeling heart
Which can love impart;

Having respect for all,
Helping those who call,
Ready to aid anyone,
Denying help to none;

A trusting heart within,
caring for all men,
A faith in mankind,
An agreeable mind;

An optimistic view,
With thoughts never blue,
A happy face ever,
Having hatred never.

If We Ourself Could See

If we ourself could see
We would less foolish be,
At anger we would smile,
Be happy all the while.

We would laugh at our fears,
See no need for our tears,
At envy we would shrink,
And never hatred think.

Could we see how we act,
We might laugh for a fact,
Though at times we might cry,
Say, "such a fool was I".

We would avoid much woe
If we ourself could know,
Could see ourself in time
To not commit a crime;

Could see into our mind,
And not go onward blind,
Could see before too late,
Would take some time to wait.

We would more wisely do,
If we ourself could view.

To My mother

A mother kind and true
Was my mother dear.
far greater love she is due
Than these lines could record here.

When I was sick in bed
She with love did care,
And never could it be said
Love for me she did not bear.

Take my burdens she would,
Also my sorrow,
Every woe if she could,
Each heartache she would borrow.

I did learn from her
To be good and kind.
Kind was she everywhere,
A better could no one find.

Never was purer thought
In any mortal soul.
Against evil she fought,
And for the right was her goal.

Her I first heard pray,
First heard her cry.
Live as long as long I may
Glad for my mother am I.

To My Father

Unto my father I owe
More than these few lines here.
His love for me he did show,
He was ever a friend dear.

Finer man I never knew
Than father big and strong,
And whatever he did do
Never seemed to me wrong.

No braver man one could find,
Father was not afraid.
Once he made up his mind
With his word ever stayed.

Was not one to run and hide,
But father stood his ground.
In honor he did abide,
Dignity was in him found.

Father always taught me right,
To be honest and fair,
That for some things I must fight,
And for the right I should care.

Father always proudly stood,
He always stood up high
Like a good man really should.
Glad for my father am I.

The Last Sound

The air is filled with sound.
One can hear it all around,
Sounds of people, wind, and birds,
Sounds of laughter and words;

The sound of the ringing bell,
And more sounds than I could tell.
Sound is a world all right
Almost as great as sight.

But one sound interests me,
The last sound, what will it be?
Maybe the wind in the trees,
or curtains in the breeze;

Low voices around the bed,
Or maybe a prayer said;
Perhaps an engine roaring,
Maybe a drill bit boring.

It might be a dog barking,
A burning fire sparking,
Perhaps an airplane flying,
maybe a baby crying;

A slight creaking of the floor,
Or banging of the door,
Or maybe just a big boom,
And off one goes to the tomb.

All Things Have An End

Many valiant there have been
Never remembered again,
As in the forest trees tall
Are forgotten after they fall;

As beautiful flowers die
Without a trace to the eye,
As lions in the jungle strong
are dead and gone before too long;

As the brightest suns that burn
In time are darkened in turn,
So all things do have an end
No matter how their life they spend.

The Eyes Of A Child

The eyes of a angel I did view
When the eyes of a child I looked into;
So innocent and fair,
Seeming without a care,
I could not help but stare

In wonderment at the tender smile
Which lingered on the little face a while;
A joy I did not feel
The little eyes reveal.
Some of it I did steal.

Looking into the eyes of a child
I do feel at once as tender and mild;
For there does lie within
A pure heart free from sin
In which no strife has been.

I feel the peace the eyes contain,
For I believe of all the child is most sane,
Having wisdom more
Than learning can restore.
For good a child explore.

A child is unto heaven so near.
A child the truth of the heavenly sees clear.
What joy it is to see
The eyes of childlike glee
So happy just to be.

The Stream

Over the pebbles flowing
In the sunlight glowing,
Flows the little stream along
Singing a merry song.

Most happy it seems to be
Flowing along so free
On this springlike kind of day
In the month of May.

The fairest flowers of blue,
And some of yellow too
Near around the stream reside,
Grace the banks on each side.

The birds around are singing,
With the streamlet ringing.
Filled with sound is the air,
Sound both gentle and fair.


All around lies nothing,
But the despair I bring.
I see no way but doom,
Uncertainty doth ever loom.

The future I do dread.
My hope is all but dead.
What darkness is my fate?
What will be my last estate?

No bottom has this pit,
And no light shines within it.
Eternal is the night,
And lost is reason or right.

How We See A Thing

It is all how we see a thing.
Some see winter in spring.
Some see fond hope ahead,
Some people see despair instead.

Some see evil in joy.
Some see it right to destroy.
Some see beauty in a flower.
Some see awe in a star.

Some see glory in pain.
Some see hallucinations in the brain.
Some see the sky above.
Some see the world with love.

Some see life with a smile.
Some people see the world worthwhile.
Some see the finer things of life.
Some see only the strife.

Some see with their heart clear.
Some see with prejudice, hatred, and fear.

A Tender Thread

There exists a tender thread between sorrow and joy,
Between a weapon and a toy,
Between laughter and tears,
Between hopes and fears.

There is a tender thread between the good and bad,
Between the rational and the mad,
Between war and debate,
Between love and hate.

There is a tender thread between desire and lust,
Between a body and the dust,
Between truth and lies,
Between yawns and sighs.

There is a tender thread between man and the beast,
Between the greatest and the least,
Between the black and white,
Between day and night.

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Background For This Page Came From Victorian Elegance.