Favorites (Page 3)

Image Credit: "A boy in a superman costume runs across the green field at sunset" by megaalex11590

Heroes stand tall,
for those who feel small,
lifting their spirits to the sky.

Lost courage regained,
we move past the pain,
never again asking why.

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Sunlight illuminates the well-worn hands of an older man wearing a tan sweater. In his hands, he holds a young, green plant nestled in soil. Fertile ground, with young plants, is seen in the background.

Of what more worth are we than dirt,
with vain ambitions nigh?
Crawling up on spindly legs,
to gaze upon the sky.

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The hands of an elder woman, dressed in black, holding a rosary while praying.

Her hair hung down in ashen curls,
on skin all snowy white.
Hazel eyes adorned her face,
her collar buttoned tight.

A rosary wrapped around her hands,
on which countless prayers were raised,
a gift from Mom, to a little girl,
that lasted all her days.

[continue]. . .

Image Credit: "Little girl and open book" from Kevin Carden

I relish the feeling of crisp new pages,
the scent of ink in the air.

Some, may speak of enchanted places.
A handsome prince, a maiden fair.

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A woman dancing at the beach as the sun goes down over Bali, as seen from Gili, Indonesia.

Ever speaking of future,
my dreams I would share.
Oh the things I’d accomplish,
when I arrived there.

When at last I looked back,
it was then I did find,
my life was created,
one day at a time.

[continue]. . .

Silhouettes of an electrical pole and lines with flying birds and maple leaves blown through the air, set against an orange sunset.

Dodging, darting they separate,
in playful colors beneath the sun.
Paths cross as they converge,
again becoming one.

It’s a short-lived reunion,
as their ways part once again.
United in divergence,
like leaves blown in the wind.

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An open book, with pages extended upward, lies on a light-colored wooden desk. Sparkles, light, and smoke appear to be coming from within it.

Enjoying the beauty of meter and rhyme,
a poem revealed inscribing each line.
One day I’ll be lost to the passage of time,
but dreams will live on in this poem of mine.

[continue]. . .

Image Credit: "Cotswold side yard at Greenfield Village" by E.L. Redwine

Today I rose before my eyes could see.
To keep them closed is just stupidity.
With all the struggle that’s in front of me,
feet hit the floor.

The morning paper smacks me in the face.
Sometimes this world can be an awful place.
Lost my faith in the human race.
Then I look next door.

[continue]. . .