Poems
A poem is a form of literary art that expresses ideas, emotions, or stories using rhythmic and musical qualities of language, often with techniques like rhyme, rhythm, and a unique structure called stanzas. While poems can be about anything and may or may not use rhyme or regular rhythm, they are characterised by their imaginative use of words to create a deeper impact on the reader.
The entries below represent some poems I like:
At random moments, I wonder:
Am I myself enough to exist, or am I just a collage of opinions,
stuck together by the feelings of others?
And if so, how much of me is still me?
He walked a hundred lifetimes
towards the light they promised him
but the closer he came,
the more it looked like a cemetery
that simply learned how to shine
Man invented
the atomic bomb,
but no mouse in the world
would ever build
a mousetrap
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream and not make dreams your master;
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them "Hold On!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run —
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And — which is more — you'll be a Man, my son!
Fill your bowl to the brim
and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife
and it will blunt.
Chase after money and security
and your heart will never unclench.
Care about people's approval
and you will be their prisoner.
Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.
the older i get, the more i understand
why some people choose to disappear
and live a quiet, private life.