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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller long
I stood And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
For it was grassy and wanted wear,
But as for that, the passing there,
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay,
In leaves no step had trodden black Oh!
I saved the first for another day
Yet, knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence,
Two roads diverged in a wood and I,
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost
me
USA - Wednesday, January 05, 2000 at 17:30:07 (EST)
Search of Love
For so many years you discovered a love, but love didn't discover you. It
makes you stop and wonder was that love really true. You feel so lonely like
no one's there You search to find, but noe cares You realize that it can
never feel the love that you do So you wipe your tears from the sadness you
grew. It hurts so bad you can't bear the pain The sun never shines and it
pours the rain But you don't give up, and go on clean To realize GOD is all
you need To help you through tears of sadness To bring the joy of happiness
To come to realize that love was true. To find that you were never unhappy,
sad, nor blue. Written by: Keisha
Keisha
USA - Wednesday, January 05, 2000 at 17:29:29 (EST)
The Victor
If you think you are beaten, you are
If you think you dare not, you don't
If you like to win but think you cant
It's almost a cinch you won't If you think you'll lose, you're lost
For out in the world we find
Success begins with a fellow's will its all in the state of mind
Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man
But sooner or later
The man who wins is the man who thinks he can
Victory Man
USA - Wednesday, January 05, 2000 at 17:28:17 (EST)
Eternal Ink
I dreamed I was in heaven
Where an angel kept God's book.
He was writing so intently I just had to take a look.
It was not, at first, his writing
That made me stop and think
But the fluid in the bottle
That was marked eternal ink.
This ink was most amazing,
Dark black upon his blotter
But as it touched the parchment
It became as clear as water.
The angel kept on writing,
But as quickly as a wink
The words were disappearing
With that strange eternal ink.
The angel took no notice,
But kept writing on and on.
He turned each page and filled it
Till all its space was gone.
I thought he wrote to no avail,
His efforts were so vain
For he wrote a thousand pages
That he'd never read again.
And as I watched and wondered that
This awesome sight was mine,
I actually saw a word stay black
As it dried upon the line.
The angel wrote and I thought I saw
A look of satisfaction.
At last he had some print to show,
For all his earnest action.
A line or two dried dark and stayed
As black as black can be,
But strangely the next paragraph
Became invisible to see.
The book was getting fuller,
The angel's records true,
But most of it was blank, with
Just a few words coming through.
I knew there was some reason,
But as hard as I could think,
I couldn't grasp the significance
Of that eternal ink.
The mystery burned within me,
And I finally dared to ask
The angel to explain to me
Of his amazing task.
And what I heard was frightful
As the angel turned his head.
He looked directly at me,
And this is what he said...
I know you stand and wonder
At what my writing's worth
But God has told me to record
The lives of those on earth.
The book that I am filling
Is an accurate account
Of every word and action
And to what they do amount.
And since you have been watching
I must tell you what is true;
The details of my journal
Are the strict accounts of YOU.
The Lord asked me to watch you
As each day you worked and played.
I saw you as you went to church,
I saw you as you prayed.
But I was told to document
Your life through all the week.
I wrote when you were proud and bold,
I wrote when you were meek.
I recorded all your attitudes
Whether they were good or bad.
I was sorry that I had to write
The things that make God sad.
So now I'll tell the wonder Of this eternal ink,
For the reason for its mystery
Should make you stop and think.
This ink that God created
To help me keep my journal
Will only keep a record of Things that are eternal.
So much of life is wasted
On things that matter not
So instead of my erasing,
Smudging ink and ugly blot.
I just keep writing faithfully and
Let the ink do all the rest
For it is able to decide
What's useless and what's best.
And God ordained that as I write
Of all you do and say
Your deeds that count for nothing
Will just disappear away.
When books are opened someday,
As sure as heaven is true;
The Lord's eternal ink will tell
What mattered most to you.
If you just lived to please yourself
The pages will be bare,
For you when you get there.
In fact, you'll be embarrassed,
You will hang your head in shame
Because you did not give yourself In love to Jesus' Name.
Yet maybe there will be a few
Recorded lines that stayed
That showed the times you truly cared,
Sincerely loved and prayed.
But you will always wonder
As you enter heaven's door
How much more glad you would have been
If only you'd done more.
For I record as God sees,
I don't stop to even think Because the truth is written
With God's eternal ink.
When I heard the angel's story
I fell down and wept and cried For as yet I still was dreaming
I hadn't really died. And I said: O angel tell the Lord
That soon as I awake I'll live my life for Jesus
- I'll do all for His dear sake.
I'll give in full surrender; I'll do all He wants me to;
I'll turn my back on self and sin
And whatever isn't true.
And though the way seems long and rough I promise to endure.
I'm determined to pursue the things That are holy, clean and pure. With Jesus
as my helper, I will win lost souls to Thee,
For I know that they will live with Christ For all eternity.
And that's what really matters
When my life on earth is gone
That I will stand before the Lord And hear Him say, well done.
someone
USA - Wednesday, January 05, 2000 at 17:12:15 (EST)
Today I Feel Silly
Today I feel silly, mom says its the heat.
I put rouge on the cat and gloves on my feet.
I ate noodles for breakfast and pancakes at night.
I dressed like a star and was quite a sight.
Today I am sad my mood's heavy and gray.
There's a frown on my face and it's been there all day.
My best friend and I had a really big fight,
she said that I tattled and I know that she's right.
- Jamie Lee Curtis
Kelsey Coggin
<jcoggin@region18esc.net>
USA - Wednesday, January 05, 2000 at 17:11:27 (EST)
When someone's born, Someone dies. When someone's laughs, Someone cries.
If you love someone, Let them know, For they may leave tomorrow, And never,
ever know.
mary
USA - Wednesday, January 05, 2000 at 17:09:22 (EST)
Birches by Robert Frost When I see birches bend to left and right Across
the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging
them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay As ice-storms do. Often
you must have seen them Loaded with ice on a sunny winter morning After a
rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them
shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust- Such heaps
of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, And the seem not to
break; though once they are bowed So low for so long, they never right
themselves: You may see their trunks arching in the woods Years afterwards,
trailing their leaves on the ground Like girls on hands and knees that throw
their hair Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. But I was going
to say when the Truth broke in With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them As he went out and in to fetch
the cows- Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, Whose only play was
what he found himself, Summer or Winter, and could play alone. One by one
he subdued his father's trees By riding them down over and over again Until
he took the stiffness out of them, And not one but hung limp, not one was
left For him to conquer. He learned all there was To learn about not launching
out too soon And so not carrying the tree away Clear to the ground. He always
kept his poise To the top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains
you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim. Then he flung
outward, feet first, with a swish, Kicking his way down through the air to
the ground. So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of
going back to be. It's when I am weary of considerations, And life is too
much like a pathless wood Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping >From a twig's having lashed
across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back
to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant
what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for
love: I don't know where it is likely to go better. I'd like to go by climbing
a birch tree, And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven,
till the tree could bear no more, But dipped it's top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be
a swinger of birches.
Mixim
<mixim@unirondack.org>
USA - Wednesday, January 05, 2000 at 17:08:01 (EST)
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