Fire and Ice - Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice. 


Fundo este poema en engles clase. Mi mucho gusto! No poder descubrir que el meant aunque. Su rima plan es mas bien!

Silence is Oblivion - Lindsey Brown

The screech overwhelms your brain

As neurons shoot like a runaway train.

It rings through your ears

Drumming for an eternity.

It’s all you can cling to as you drain

Of all sanity.

“My life was in vain.”

Here goes your mind,

The poor, little dear.

This life was far from kind.

Heart thumping, and pumping into a frenzy

Your lungs block up with fear.

You exhale dread. That’s what you’ll find.

Do you know what’s transpiring?

Over and over it screams so loud,

Yet nothing is found.

The loudest scream

That gnaws at your soul.

It flows through,

You see, when exposed it consumes you.

Heir more powerful than foul;

It's emptiness and silence I speak of with such terror.

Did you find your solo sailing any fairer?

Esto es favorito poesia escribo! Yo amor la estructura y retorcida de it. Creo it es escribir muy bien. Yo tambien gustar la secretar it tiene.

A Noiseless, Patient Spider - Walt Whitman

A noiseless, patient spider,I mark'd, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;Ever unreeling them--ever tirelessly speeding them. And you, O my Soul, where you stand,Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,--seeking the spheres, to connect them;Till the bridge you will need, be form'd--till the ductile anchor hold;Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

Esta es a bella metafora! Describir como sento actualmente. Acentuado ultimamente. Para la pasado  pocos mes' verdad. No me gusta.

I'm Still Me - Amy Vallie

Some say I'm psychotic

Some don't understand

Some say it's genetic

But inside i'm still that man

People assume that I will be violent

Or have a personality like Jeckll and Hyde

People believe that it is a big taboo

But there are others like me world wide

Sometimes I hear things that don't make a sound

Times aromas that are not there

It is hard to concentrate, I drift and drift

Sometimes it's my living nightmare

Receiving Help early gives a better outlook

But i will never escape it

Treatment, medication and help

Has helped me greatly to deal with it

The day I was diagnosed I was only sixteen

I didnt understand what a mental illness was

Poorly understood, misconceptions

What could have been the cause

One of the most common serious mental health conditions

Delusions,muddled thought, hallucinations

Changes in Behaviour

I will endevour

Don't mark me as a Schizo

Or ill or a freak

I've grown stronger inside

I am not weak

So look at the facts before you think it's easy

Labels are for cans, don't place them on me

It is a condition but it will not take over

I will deal with it as did my mother

Me gusta poesia pero conto. Teno mi parte de mental problems. Gente ese juez poder      hacer dano a. Este es amaturely terminado pero yo inmovil gustar it.

Shakespeare

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Me gusta este poesia porque et shows gente are defectuoso. El es dicho ella es no perfecto, aunque, et shows verdadero amor.

The Mime - Lindsey Brown

What’s the point in words,

When what you say is incomprehensible;
When it sounds absurd?
Help me
To sort through every petty crime.
I have the fragments of my memory,
However this life is as stretched as a century.
What is there to clasp, to keep?
When all your emotions are jumbled in a heap.
Thoughts escape,
And with no words with which to relate,
I slowly become a mime.
I built my façade.
Where are you, God?
This mask gets heavy and hot,
Didn’t you have my life to plot?
I think you looked it over;
Somehow forgot.
Can't you find the time?
Maybe this face covers my distraught
Heart.
So I’m back to point A,
Just to say
To put the gun away.
Life will go on,
With or without you;
You have a part
To play.
Don’t you want to say you’d won?
Dear mime,
Leave me be.
For it is she
I love not this fake.
Though the outcome is opaque;
Give me back my words,
They’re mine to take.

Escribo la poema. No mi mucho gusta. Lo es una de mi proto poemas. Yo am a principiante, pero yo am mejor.

Hell Is Knocking at My Door - Anonymous

Please, I'm begging for help down on my knees,
But I want you to leave.
I won't put you through pain and blame.
I won't give you the shame of knowing my name.
I'll cry sweet red bliss of you tonight,
But I'll only cause pain.

I'll only bring suffering.
Eventually you'll feel the same.

No matter what I do I fall more.
Hell is knocking at my door;

As I sigh and lie on the bedroom floor
I've lost my faith.
I'll say goodbye.
I refuse to even let you see me cry.
 I don't want to hurt you with lies.
I want you to free me from these ties. 

I wish I could love you like I want to,
But i can love only few.

It wears me down.

Darling, don't frown. 

Stay strong for me

while fear runs through my veins.
Mark my words.

I'll break from hell's chains.

I'm cold to myself and life isn't this.
I even refuse to lend you my kiss.
I'll tell you this;

I wish you would stay
Till my last day.
I wish you could save all these lost tears

throughout these past years
But I'll spare you the pain

Of this shameful game.
I leave you like this without even a kiss.
I lose myself tonight in my misery of bliss.

Verdad es escribo este poesia. Shh! Lo es a secreto! Yo esperanza te gusta et mucho! Lo es mi interpretación de otro.

A Character - William Wordsworth

I marvel how Nature could ever find space
For so many strange contrasts in one human face:
There's thought and no thought, and there's paleness and bloom
And bustle and sluggishness, pleasure and gloom.

There's weakness, and strength both redundant and vain;
Such strength as, if ever affliction and pain
Could pierce through a temper that's soft to disease,
Would be rational peace--a philosopher's ease.

There's indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds,
And attention full ten times as much as there needs;
Pride where there's no envy, there's so much of joy;
And mildness, and spirit both forward and coy.

There's freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare
Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she's there,
There's virtue, the title it surely may claim,
Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name.

This picture from nature may seem to depart,
Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart;
And I for five centuries right gladly would be
Such an odd such a kind happy creature as he.      

William Wordsworth es a romanticist de England en la 1700s y 1800s. Le gusta el creativo estillo de el tiempo periodo.

Where the Sidewalk Ends - Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Este es una de la primera poesia yo siempre leer. Lo es por qué me gusta poesia muy mucho.

Dreams - Edgar Allan Poe

"Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
'Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,
And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,
A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.
But should it be- that dream eternally
Continuing- as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood- should it thus be given,
'Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revell'd, when the sun was bright
I' the summer sky, in dreams of living light
And loveliness,- have left my very heart
In climes of my imagining, apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought- what more could I have seen?
'Twas once- and only once- and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass- some power
Or spell had bound me- 'twas the chilly wind
Came o'er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spirit- or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly- or the stars- howe'er it was
That dream was as that night-wind- let it pass.

I have been happy, tho' in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known."

Este poesía, sueños es escribo al lado de Edgar Allan Poe y es a amor ejemplo de su trabajar. Yo amor lo!