Poems About Living Life Novels & Stories

he asked, interested in my presentation; at least he looked interested. " Lately, the environment that we live in is slowly going into extinct. What I mean is, most if not all poets rather write poems about love or other factors if life, forgetting the location where all other factors take course. The few poems written about the environment, are not even written well. So I decided to bring that to notice." I answered, earning a wide smile from the other orators. " Well what are you waiting for? Dive in." the chairman said, smiling to his team.

She discovered that these fleeting moments were precious, pearls of pure joy scattered throughout the vastness of everyday life. And so, with each step she took into the unknown, Isabella carried with her this simple yet powerful truth: life may be full of difficulties, but it is also full of beauty and hope. Choosing to focus on the light, even when surrounded by darkness, was her bravest act of rebellion against the storms of fate. It was her war song and her lullaby; it was the echo of her soul telling the world: "I am here, I am alive, and I choose love."

Ire silence surrounds, not a single sound could be heard, as all lay between the oasis of their dreams and deserts of their nightmares, each one living their fate, swirling to the tunes of lines in their hands, for the waves had already sailed to the shore and the winds had already floated and all that remained was the result that future beholds. As the rosy color of the dawning sky slowly moved away, the chirping and whistling of the birds can be heard, all lively and happy to the world it seemed, for all we know it isn't the tune of happiness, merely its the tune of misery, heartache and pain lost in this universe of disbelief and fake, we settle upon the beauty of fake happiness, yet litt

Living is a daily challenge. Life gives us no respite, no matter what moment we are going through, the world will not stop to wait for us to catch our breath. The train keeps moving and we cannot be left behind, even though in many moments we just want to contemplate the landscape and let the train go through the mountains.

"Why don't you see if anything speaks to you?" I wander through the narrow aisles, breathing in the scent of old paper and ink. My fingers trail across familiar names—Plath, Oliver, Neruda—poets I used to know by heart. I pull out a slim volume of Mary Oliver's work and flip to a random page: "Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

"But I've heard that if you keep exposing a wound to others, it only makes it worse. It's like picking at a scab." They were both sharp. There was no need to say too much. Some words were better left at the edge of conversation, understood rather than explained. Finn didn't argue. He simply said, "Then choose the way that suits you best." Lucy's mind wavered. She had long since forgotten what suited her best. If even the heart of someone who had once been willing to die for her could change, then what else in this world was unshakable? The answer, she knew, could only be found within herself. She was done entrusting her life to anyone else.

Pen poised above the paper, she hesitated, searching for the right words that could capture the swirling tempest inside her. *The weight of life feels heavier than I imagined.* She began, her script flowing smoothly yet trembling slightly. *It’s as if I’m being crushed under the burden of my past decisions. I had dreams once, bright and untarnished dreams. But life has a way of subverting expectations. What if I’m just repeating the mistakes of those before me?*

Simply by being there, you make everything perfect. We didn't accomplish anything noteworthy on our last day. simply existed. Together. savoring each final second. I was depressed as I packed to go that evening. I said, "I don't want to live in real life ever again." Life is not so horrible. We have good lives waiting for us." "I know. But this was—" "A bubble. A perfect bubble." He pulled me close. "But we can't live in a bubble. We have to go home. Build our lives. Work. Create. Live."

They both thought about each other as they smiled at each other with love clearly visible in thei eyes. There was no need to say that out loud cause the other person knew it already. There was no need for words to describe how they felt. The love they felt for each other needed no description cause they were meant for each other. They had come a long way, from hating themselves to loving themselves. From giving up on their life to fight for what they wanted and whom they wanted to be with. Their wish to die had become a wish to live for each other. ~end~

Not as kids you'd like to insult or punish for not knowing Behind every poem lies a story and a great take on the challenges Life offers the Poet. Through his poems he shall speak of truth and hope. In every magnum opus is a deep never-ending well of doubts, curiosity, fear and mission to be heard and seen. If you must write a poem, you must always take it easy, feel the atmosphere before you go ahead. If you are reading one now, I hope you could find answers beneath your questions, answered wishes and a person to talk to.