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Poetry Everyday

Before I Knew Your Name


I dreamed of you before we met,
A shadow traced in silhouette.
A laugh I knew but hadn't heard,
A voice that echoed every word.


I felt your warmth in winds that passed,
In sunset skies that didn't last.
But when you came, the dream stood still—
The world grew quiet, deep, and real.


Now every day begins with you,
In morning light and evening blue.
I loved you long before you came—
Before I even knew your name.
 
The Thread of Life"


Life is a thread, so thin, so strong,
It winds through right, it weaves through wrong.
A quiet breath, a roaring flame,
A fleeting step, yet never the same.


It's laughter carved from deepest pain,
It's dancing wild in summer rain.
It's broken dreams and starting new,
A path unseen, but walked right through.


We stumble, rise, and learn to bend—
To lose, to grow, and still defend.
For though it's brief, this gift we hold,
Is more than silver, more than gold.


So live it loud or live it small—
But live it true, and give it all.
 
"Still We Rise"


Life is not a straight-lined path,
But hills and valleys, tears and laugh.
It winds through loss, it climbs through grace,
And leaves soft lines upon our face.


Some days we walk, some days we crawl,
Some days we feel we've lost it all.
But in the dark, a small light stays—
A stubborn hope that finds its ways.


We learn to bend, we learn to heal,
To trust what time and love reveal.
No map is clear, no plan is wise—
But still we breathe, and still we rise.
 
"This Life of Ours"

This life of ours, so swift, so wide,
A river with no place to hide.
It carries dreams, it breaks and bends,
Yet always mends, and never ends.

We walk on roads both rough and kind,
Leave bits of soul and peace behind.
We chase the sun, we curse the rain,
We learn the joy is worth the pain.

A thousand moments, small and true,
Are what this life is made to do.
Not perfect days or flawless hours—
Just love, and loss, and quiet powers.

So take it slow, and hold it tight—
This life is fleeting, but it's right.
 
One Step


Life is a story, page by page,
A dance through joy, a walk through age.
It's not the speed or how you run,
But how you rise when day is done.


Some days are bright with open skies,
Some full of doubt and wondering "why."
Yet still we breathe, and still we try,
And still we watch the stars drift by.


It's in the little things we grow—
The silent yes, the quiet no.
And though the end we'll never see,
We live each step — and that's the key.
 
No man is an island,
Entire of itself;
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less,
As well as if a promontory were:
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were.

Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.

John Donne
 

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