Secrets Under Trees
Tiny little secrets
Get buried in the dirt,
And if they were dug up,
Someone would probably get hurt,
Tiny little secrets
Get buried in the dirt,
And if they were dug up,
Someone would probably get hurt,
I don’t know if that’s true, because sometimes it's better to hide the hurtful secrets because the world these days will probably laugh at you then do nothing for a few days then decide...
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There comes a time in all our lives
when truth will set us free,
so live each day as though you know
your last it may well be.
I just love this poem it is so true and yes it has touched me!
When we were born with no possession.
The love received was our concession.
No worries, no fears, no troubles, no fuss.
In mother's arms we put our trust.
Wow, this poem reminds me of one of my uncles who was all about his accomplishments. He chased after money till he couldn't. Lying on his hospital bed breathing his last, he realized life...
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If you foolishly spend your money,
you can always earn some more.
If you happen to melt your sundae,
Analysis of Form and Technique
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
A Poison Tree is a short and deceptively simple poem about repressing anger and the consequences of doing so. The speaker tells of how they fail to communicate their wrath to their foe and...
Life is like a journey on the number 24 bus,
So welcome aboard, young one; come, sit here with the rest of us.
Let's hope you're going to be on here for more than just a while.
Look out of the window, young one, and enjoy every single mile.
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The little town was the perfect little town,
Where never would you see even one little frown.
No matter where you'd go around town to stroll,
There were perfect little houses, all in a perfect row.
Walk where you have never been
and wonder at the beauty of this world.
Wish for the best, but work,
Time passes all so quickly,
Moments melting into years.
It's true, time waits for no one,
And the end is always near.
Another lovely poem, Patricia - keep them coming. Very best wishes, Ann
When I was young and insecure,
And desperate to be liked.
I tended to withdraw in pain
And flee instead of fight.