Little Ode
My love for you can never die
It’s in the stars, in the sky
It’s in all the things we’ve done
The wind, the rain, the snow, the sun
The proudest thing I have ever won,
is to be the one to call you son.
The happiest time’s I have ever had,
is when I heard you call me Dad.
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 |
| EVIL | 0 | 02/04/2014 |
| Disenchanted | 0 | 02/04/2014 |
| A poem of loss | 0 | 02/04/2014 |
| Lies | 0 | 02/04/2014 |
| She | 0 | 08/01/2013 |
| Last words of a sane man, | 0 | 06/26/2013 |
| untitled | 0 | 01/24/2012 |
| The Sadness | 1 | 01/23/2012 |
| last star | 0 | 01/13/2012 |
| SICK | 0 | 01/10/2012 |
| Little Ode | 0 | 01/10/2012 |
| HOPE | 0 | 01/10/2012 |
| The Pub | 0 | 10/08/2009 |
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.