Some days, someone stays late Not to write But to sort things out- A messy house A healthy meal And a tiny fellow to rear.
In early dawn someone wakes Not to read, nor gather thoughts To write a piece of poem But strength for all the chores- From toasting breads And scrambling eggs, To determining some life choices And more.
Sometimes she gets drunk Not with words nor with wine But of thinking Where time has gone For quite a while A dead poet has lived within her For so long.
For everyone has a dead poet within When time comes Let us allow it To live once more
Some people speak of living for the moment. Having "carpe diem" as their slogan. Their decree to want to take life day by day. Hoping fate will lead the way, and things will always be okay. Taking it easy; Life is a holiday to be enjoyed and celebrated the right way.
Others say this is a hippie cliche. That living day to day isn't living, its surviving. It's not thriving, to truely live means striving. Its realizing what you want most and trying. About devising a plan to achieve all you aspire. Gain the skills and knowledge you require. To go higher, elevate and inspire, be someone others admire. Stand with the fruits of labor in your hand that you have acquired and be proud for getting that which you desire.
Two ways to look at life I guess. Value one view doesn't make the other less. Assess what's important to you; pave your own road to success. Some play the fame of life as checkers; others as chess.
Wanted to make it longer but felt it it the points I wanted to get accross
We’ve all met the person that lights up a room the world stops spinning there is no gloom I once met a girl with sunshine on her head Moonlight in her bones And lighting in her heart This girl was so different So special one could say That all of these elements Would stay with her till her dying day Now only one year I had with her That was quite a shame But even after a short while I knew she felt the same The sunshine hair I would see again But when it happens I’ll say amen