Most Liked Lyric Poems (681)

The scars you wear tell all your life,
Be it from fall or surgeons knife,
An auto crash, a barroom brawl,
The scars you carry tell it all.

Then there's the ones that do not show,
Though just as real and still a blow.
That hurtful thing a loved one said,
Can cut as harsh as if it bled.

These scars that tell your story so,
Mark all the paths that you have known.
And when you look back you will see,
Each one's a page of history.

So please don't hide your scars from me,
My love enfolds their mystery.
For ev'ry one I see it true,
Has gone to build this wond'rous you.

Sparkling, long, and flowing soft, and shimmering through a comb,
A little hand ,with love,caressed each strand and knew a home.
Her eyes alight with awe to see the splendour falling there
in the magic that was moonbeams, that was grandma's silver hair.

A web of love she wove in it when plaiting it each day
and trapped the little heart that had no other place to stay.
Grandma lent her patience to the comfort of the child
and just let the little fingers roam about at eventide.

Then when the mane of moonbeams had been prettied for the night,
the child would hold that rope that led her safely to the light
of a heart that filled to bursting, and a safety so rare,
in a world that was upended, save for touching grandma's hair.

The years flew past, as swifts in flight to greet a summer's day.
The little child grew up and left the nest to fly away
to do great deeds of courage, and to plant some seeds of care,
letting other little fingers weave their patterns in her hair,

just like grandma, now long gone , had done so many years ago,
she helped them braid their patterns, and encouraged them to grow
to be full and loving people, and to laugh and share and play.
So the lesson of her grandma's mane of moonbeams lives today.

Off in the distance to the west,
The thunderheads are gathering.
A blust'ring breeze foretells the tale,
Of what will soon be happening.

The smell of damp earth fills the air,
A storm is coming there's no doubt.
The first few drops explode in dust,
As wind is whipping trees about.

The lightning's flash and thunder's roar,
From clouds so dark and ominous,
Enthralling beauty holds in awe,
Stirs feelings deep in each of us.

And then the clouds burst open wide,
Start sending torrents to the earth.
Thus quenching, drenching, pouring down,
To give us all a glad rebirth.

In my search for true romance,
I've made some awesome friends,
Though love is still eluding me,
Guess that's what fate intends.

Fell in love not long ago,
But was not meant to be.
Though she loves me as a friend,
Was not in love with me.

So I must move on again,
To try to find my one.
Never thought I'd come this far,
With searching just begun.

But I won't give up my quest,
However long it goes,
Love's worth all of this and more,
As my heart surely knows.

I grind the beans and brew a pot.
Ah, the aroma's heavenly.
Sun is rising through the trees,
The morning dew bedazzles me.

Farm fresh brown egss from free range hens,
I get them from a friend down south.
With yolks so bright and yellow that,
Look so inviting to my mouth.

My whole wheat toast comes popping up,
Fresh butter makes it savory.
An egg on each upon the plate,
Their sunny sides smile up at me.

Whole peppercorns ground all around.
Sea salt is sprinkled on the top,
The fork's first pierce begins the flow,
A bite of white and toast to sop.

Devouring this tasty treat,
Takes hardly any time at all.
The dishes washed and kitchen's neat
There's work to do, no time to stall.

In trying times these small delights,
Can get you started on the right.
To start your day in morning light,
And last you til you're home at night.

He crossed the stage in three strong leaps.
His legs looked like the trunks of trees.
His jumps so high were almost flight.
As in his prime he danced that night.

His prima partner did not show,
But that was fine with me, you know.
For in her place another flew,
The lovely little ingenue.

He threw her in the air so high,
She really seemed at times to fly.
A fairy princess in our world,
As effortless he caught the girl.

Around and round they whirled and spun,
And won the hearts of ev'ryone.
A magic moment trapped in time,
This memory of dance sublime.

I am so glad I went to see,
This performance and to be,
Awed by such a wonderous sight,
Of Rudolf Nureyev that night.

It's always too hot or too cold,
And if the real truth should be told,
While climate is what we expect,
Just weather is all we can get.

Why must it be always extremes,
With seldom the nice inbetweens?
Dollar sized hail, tornadoes wail,
Too wet or too dry without fail.

The creeks and the rivers they run,
So someone up north's getting some.
Here it's so dry, water bill's high,
There's not enough moisture to cry.

I long for the mildness of spring,
Or relief that autumn can bring.
Summer is long, winter prolonged,
Should it be a parka, or thong?

WHEN YOUR LIVEIN IN A WHITE FENCE HOUSE....STOP THROWIN TRASH IN MY YARD...PARKIN MY FORD EXPLORE...DON'T HIT IT GETTING MY MAIL-DO STOP DELIVER AND ALL I WANT TO DO IS TO INJOY LIFE WITH OUT THE HATEIN ....WE PLAY AROUND MY HOUSE WITH THE WHITE FENCE AND WE PIC UP TRASH IN EACH OTHER YARD AND COMEIN DOWN THE STREET BE CAREFUL NO TO HIT ANY THING OR ANY ONE AND MAKE SURE IF THE PERSON NEXT DOOR IS NOT AT HOME YOU WILL EXCEPT MAIL FOR THEM......AND WE ALL JUST STOP PLAYIN THE HATER'S GAME THAT'S NO LIFE -TO LIVE....PEACE !

So many brave, brave soldiers have fallen in the war,
They Battle heated flames and toxic smoke,
that come knocking at the door.
They hear inferno's victims calling, when they grasp their chests and choke.
They make their way through falling debris, to find them in the smoke.

The mighty soldier's gear protects him from his angry foe,
His suit, his hat, his boots, his mask, from his head down to his toe.
But sometimes his gear can't save him, from collapsing things around,
And then our mighty soldier sadly falls and hits the ground.

He's risked his life to save us from the awful raging rival.
We owe our lives to all of them, They fight for our survival!
But sometimes the fire wins the fight, though our soldiers did their best.
And though he gallantly did fight, for now he's laid to rest!

So remember all our fallen soldiers, They did it selflessly.
And remember, support with care and love, their loving family,
For now they have an empty void that is tearing at their hearts.
So honor what the soldier did before he did depart!

And make it known to all their kin, to all that heed your voice,
You appreciate the firefighter, and his brave career choice.
When you see a fighter black with soot, or cleaned with utter care,
Then smile, and say, "Why thank you, for just you being there!"

There is a fine woman I know,
Who's fiery spirit flame glows.
She's much older but young at heart,
With many fine tales to impart.

Been doing some work in her yard,
She pays me well so I work hard.
She lends me her truck when I need,
And always is good for a feed.

Been having some trouble just now,
A neighbor who's started a row.
It is he who had better beware,
Cause her shotgun sits by the stair.

Her surgery's scheduled next week,
Going in to get a new knee.
I'm watching her house when she leaves,
The shotgun will be left with me.

It isn't my feud but I will,
If I have to, won't shoot to kill.
I won't allow skullduggery,
Miss Ellie is trusting in me.