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Verse Of The Day

Daily Poem Index






Robert Plant Lyrics
"I Believe"

Tears, tears at the water's edge
Hey little sister, there is laughter instead
Tears for the teacher, from the eyes, from the soul
This restless spirit takes a long way back home
Like the wind, you are free
Just a whisper - I hear you, so talk to me

Oh, I believe, eye to eye
Say brother, sisters, see your brothers in the sky
Neighbour, neighbour, don't be so cold
It's only glory from the story I'm told

I believe, eye to eye
Say brothers, sister, see your brothers in the sky
Neighbour, neighbour, don't be so cold
It's so much glory from the story untold

Big fire, on top of the hill
A hopeless gesture, and last farewell
Tears from your mother, from the pits of her soul
Look at your father, see his blood run cold
Like the wind, you are free
Just a whisper - I hear you, so talk to me

I believe, eye to eye
Say brothers, sister, see your brothers in the sky
Neighbour, neighbour, don't be so cold
With so much glory from the story untold

I believe, eye to eye
Say brother, sisters, see your brothers in the sky
Neighbour, neighbour, don't be so cold
It's so much glory from the story untold



by Martin Taylor

One of four siblings,
the youngest of course.
Or am I the oldest?
Not really sure.

I bring new life
and herald the warmth,
but hay fever, too,
is in my source.

Autumn has color
but tinged with decay.
Some call her Fall.
I think she's OK.

Not like my bother,
cold in his breath.
Winter his name,
in darkness brings death.

Summer's the one
that gets all the glory,
but brush fires and sunburn
are in her story.

So, season of choice,
who will win?
The one with potential,
of course; it's Spring.

Charming Spring
by  Patricia L. Cisco

Reminiscent melodies
serenade the morning breeze.

Feathered creatures nest with care
in cherry blossoms pink and fair.

Perfumed scent of roses flow.
Tiny blades of green grass grow.

Misty showers soak the earth,
glorious colors come to birth.

Gathering clouds come and go,
rain, sun, and vibrant bow.

Dainty petals, fancy flair,
dancing in the warm, sweet air.

Violets, yellows, purest white,
graceful, gentle, welcomed sight.

Thank you, oh sweet lovely Spring,
patiently waiting the charms you bring!

by Kyra Lee

My Name Is Sasha
My Sister Is Leigh
I am six
And she is three

Our dad's always mad
He screams and he yells
I don't think he likes us
It's easy to tell

Mum's only kind
When dad's not around
And when he is home
She hardly makes a sound

Mum's always out,
Never home
Dad's always drunk,
And always alone

As soon as we hear
Those jingly keys
We run and hide
We run and plea

We find a place
And curl up tight
I hold her hand
And she holds mine

And soon enough
Dad then walks in
Don't make a sound, don't say a word
I pray inside, deep within

But Leigh, she cannot help herself
For the pain is just too much
"O-God" she yells
"Why are you so mean?"

He doesn't like what she has said
And beats her even more
And with one last hit
Hard and strong, he pulls away and watches

She takes one last Gasp of air
Our hands still holding
Then falls to the ground where I sat
And doesn't move a muscle

I stare at him
My eyes so blue
He looks at me
And yells "O you!"

"How dare you
Make me so mad
This is all your fault
Go cry be sad!"

My name is Sasha
My sister is Leigh
I am six
And my beautiful sister was only three

That day my Daddy
Murdered her
My best friend
She was my world

We stuck together
Through thick and thin
But now she's gone
I'm lost within

When I was six my sister three
My Daddy murdered Leigh
Since that day I have not spoke
For it's speaking that made her die.

 Playing The Game
poem by Julie Hebert

Some love and some hurt,
And others play their games.
They pretend to be your friend,
While behind your back are lighting flames.

These people are all around,
Some we know and some we don't.
But eventually they are seen,
And are dismantled off their throne.

The only thing I can manage to say,
About people just like this,
Is they are very unhappy people,
And hurting others to them is bliss.

When it is that they are found,
You have a choice or two.
Remove them from your life,
Or play the game they play with you.

Playing the game with them,
Can bring you down to their level.
You'll often feel fake and sometimes feel played,
But we sometimes have to entertain the devil.

If turning away is an option,
And sometimes this isn't so.
Choose to live you life around people,
Who want you to be happy and grow.

Sometimes we can't choose the people,
That fill our lives everyday.
But we will always have the option,
Of how often certain people can stay.

So decide on which people make you happy,
And choose people that want to see you grow.
Being around positive, strong people,
Will make you feel happier so.

Wait For Life To Begin
poem by Julie Hebert

When I was still in a stroller, I couldn't wait to be older,
Life as a child went too slow.
But now that I'm older, I'm somewhat unsure,
Of why growing up quick was needed so.

Even grown, I still am prone,
To wondering when my real life will begin.
First school, then jobs, apartments, and some in between sobs,
Life is much more than just jumping in.

As you grow, you learn, although,
Sometimes its out of your control.
Going with it, without feeling unfit,
Can help you achieve your goal.

WIth a little bit of patience, and a little bit of maintenance,
You will one day achieve your goal.
Just do what you can, with what you have in plan,
And one day success will be in control.

How Lovely Are The Old
by Wilhelmina Stitch

How lovely are the old whose years add grace;
Whose years are special gems for their adorning;
Who wear their age a beauty wears fine lace;
Who are as evening's peace to youths' bright morning.

How lovely are the old who are as strings
Of some rare, perfect instrument;
Who make sweet harmony the while life sings,
Playing the measure of a sweet content.

How lovely is the gratitude that flows
From hearts grown tender with the passing years
Tto those who serve with love until life's close,
With love that heals sharp pain and dries hot tears.

How lovely are the old when they relate
The things they did and thought long, long ago.
From them we learn to laugh at hostile fate.
We draw fresh courage from their spirit's glow.

How lovely are the old who string their days
On memory's entrancing golden thread;
Whose words are like a daily song of praise
For what is past and what still lies ahead

A Proud Son
By Ken Bailey Asst. Chief

Mother’s day is a couple days away

My mom’s a firefighter,

Not an easy task, you say

She goes to the fire as other mother’s wave

Proud to say she has firefighter ways

Jumps from dinner and in the middle of the night

A race to the door.

To fight fire with your mother

A son’s delight

Age 53 she joined and trained

Attended classes with kids her son’s age

Climbing and cutting and learning new things

She turns 60 this year with a devoted heart

To fighting fire or comforting a broken heart

When asked how my mom feels me fighting fire I say

My mom’s a firefighter

And she’s here today

That’s her over there on that nozzle you see

She’s a firefighter

Then I usually hear

“How do you feel fighting fire with your mother”

My reply the same

“ A Proud Son, I’m proud to say”

Married Love
by May Fenn
Slowly, tenderly, hand in hand,
We walk the aisle of love,
My wife and I together
Now blessed by God above.

The magic of this moment
Will last throughout our lives
For we have asked the help of one
From whom all good derives.

There shall be no more loneliness
Now we are joined as one
It seems as from this moment
Our lives have just begun.

So now with hearts uplifted
We leave this hallowed place
What God has joined together
Can no man now displace.

Denzel Washington...
Deeply Moving Speech

Photography Prints









Robert Frost Poems
Maya Angelou Poems