Hope
It’s like the wind carrying mist,
In the deep velvet sky,
Scattered with glistening diamonds.
It’s like a leaf flowing down a silver stream,
Singing as it runs,
The song of the lush green leaves,
In the canopy of wildflowers.
It’s like the silent peaceful clouds,
Brimming on the forget-me-not sky,
Radiating pure happiness.
It’s like the endless sea,
Full of promising possibilities,
It’s hope.
Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| The Rainbow of Tomorrow | 0 | 08/12/2010 |
| What a Wonderful World | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| Six Seas | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| The Land of Dreams | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| Wow | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| Nature | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| Imagination | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| It's Not Over Yet | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| Snow Bird | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| Life or Death | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| Imperfection | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| Hope | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| The Secret Night | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| One Thing They Can't Do | 0 | 08/09/2010 |
| Lost and Found | 2 | 06/14/2010 |
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