I Will Love My Flag And Country
I'll stand firm for love of country
And I'll speak of her with pride.
I will be grateful for those freedoms
Under which I've lived my life.
I'll stand firm for love of country
And I'll speak of her with pride.
I will be grateful for those freedoms
Under which I've lived my life.
I'm slipping back into that hole
And my hopes are wearing thin.
I try to take a different path
Still, I hear it beckoning.
Another great poem. I've had depression, but not quite as bad. However, it's great that you can write about it, as I'm sure it will connect with many people who know exactly what you are...
In the neighborhood where I was raised,
My life revolved around my friends.
And each day brought new adventures
And endless games of let's pretend.
I saw a shadow passing by,
Thinking it just a trick of the eye.
I turned on the light, but no one was there,
Though I noticed a fragrance, thick in the air.
I'll post all those pictures of me having fun,
Wearing my happiest grin.
Add a few comments to enhance the effect,
And impress all my great Facebook friends.
How do you measure success in this life?
And who should decide if you fail?
Do life's sweet temptations guide you along?
Or in the end does your conscience prevail?
in Aging Poems
I wake up each day
On this journey of mine,
Grabbing each moment
Of my limited time.
Ann: I just ran across your comments. I'm glad I reached someone with my poems. I don't know which poem you were referring to, but I'm glad you enjoyed it. Did you read No More Whippoorwill,...
in Winter Poems
To awaken to a morning
where a chill pervades the air,
despite the brilliant dazzling sun
that blinds you with its glare.
in Ocean Poems
Seagulls soar above her surf,
The sun reflects and gleams,
While people come from miles around
To stroll upon her beach.
Dear Elizabeth,
Growing up in New Jersey, I have always had easy access to the ocean. I love the ocean but, I have always been interested in the beauty of the PACNW. I love to look at films...
in Aging Poems
It could not be me he's thinking of
When he looks up at the soft moonlight.
And it can't be me that he's dreaming of
When he falls asleep at night.
Another brilliant poem - I love the way you write - keep them coming, please.
Very best wishes, Ann