I Love Life

[Luckyone]

I wrote this poem when I was 17 years old (63 years ago)

I Love Life​

Like a coal burning bright
with its heat incandescently hot
my heart is alive
Through my veins craving flows
as nature slowly enfolds
All of its worldly delights.
I love life!
As I see the sun gently caressing the earth
and the waves lapping the land
My soul smiles abright;
For joy is to find what surrounds us so much.
To thrill at the feel of a persons caress
when it, too, curiously seeks
what life is about.
For slowly we find that to link to a mind and a heart
is to share; To be a part
of the world that we love.
I love life!​

 

[Mack The Finger]

My life is nothing but a struggle and I love every rotten moment.

 

[MarathonMike]

I wrote this poem when I was 17 years old (63 years ago)

I Love Life​

Like a coal burning bright
with its heat incandescently hot
my heart is alive
Through my veins craving flows
as nature slowly enfolds
All of its worldly delights.
I love life!
As I see the sun gently caressing the earth
and the waves lapping the land
My soul smiles abright;
For joy is to find what surrounds us so much.
To thrill at the feel of a persons caress
when it, too, curiously seeks
what life is about.
For slowly we find that to link to a mind and a heart
is to share; To be a part
of the world that we love.
I love life!​

Too bad you became so hateful in your old age. You should try to recapture some of who you were at 17. Just a suggestion.

 

[rover says its chilly]

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.