Alone by Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
’Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

About Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou was born Marguerite Johnson in St. Louis, Missouri, on April 4, 1928. She grew up in St. Louis and Stamps, Arkansas. She was an author, poet, historian, songwriter, playwright, dancer, stage and screen producer, director, performer, singer, and civil rights activist.

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Poetic Flows Podcast

Poetic Flows Podcast is a haven for poetry lovers and creative souls. Our mission is to weave together the beauty of poetry with the depth of human emotion, offering a unique auditory experience that inspires and uplifts. Join us every Monday night at 8pm GMT for live sessions that promise to stir your imagination and touch your heart.
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A November Night by Sara Teasdale

A November Night

There!  See the line of lights,
A chain of stars down either side the street —
Why can’t you lift the chain and give it to me,
A necklace for my throat?  I’d twist it round
And you could play with it.  You smile at me
As though I were a little dreamy child
Behind whose eyes the fairies live. . . .  And see,
The people on the street look up at us
All envious.  We are a king and queen,
Our royal carriage is a motor bus,
We watch our subjects with a haughty joy. . . .
How still you are!  Have you been hard at work
And are you tired to-night?  It is so long
Since I have seen you — four whole days, I think.
My heart is crowded full of foolish thoughts
Like early flowers in an April meadow,
And I must give them to you, all of them,
Before they fade.  The people I have met,
The play I saw, the trivial, shifting things
That loom too big or shrink too little, shadows
That hurry, gesturing along a wall,
Haunting or gay — and yet they all grow real
And take their proper size here in my heart
When you have seen them. . . .  There’s the Plaza now,
A lake of light!  To-night it almost seems
That all the lights are gathered in your eyes,
Drawn somehow toward you.  See the open park
Lying below us with a million lamps
Scattered in wise disorder like the stars.
We look down on them as God must look down
On constellations floating under Him
Tangled in clouds. . . .  Come, then, and let us walk
Since we have reached the park.  It is our garden,
All black and blossomless this winter night,
But we bring April with us, you and I;
We set the whole world on the trail of spring.
I think that every path we ever took
Has marked our footprints in mysterious fire,
Delicate gold that only fairies see.
When they wake up at dawn in hollow tree-trunks
And come out on the drowsy park, they look
Along the empty paths and say, “Oh, here
They went, and here, and here, and here!  Come, see,
Here is their bench, take hands and let us dance
About it in a windy ring and make
A circle round it only they can cross
When they come back again!” . . .  Look at the lake —
Do you remember how we watched the swans
That night in late October while they slept?
Swans must have stately dreams, I think.  But now
The lake bears only thin reflected lights
That shake a little.  How I long to take
One from the cold black water — new-made gold
To give you in your hand!  And see, and see,
There is a star, deep in the lake, a star!
Oh, dimmer than a pearl — if you stoop down
Your hand could almost reach it up to me. . . .

There was a new frail yellow moon to-night —
I wish you could have had it for a cup
With stars like dew to fill it to the brim. . . .

How cold it is!  Even the lights are cold;
They have put shawls of fog around them, see!
What if the air should grow so dimly white
That we would lose our way along the paths
Made new by walls of moving mist receding
The more we follow. . . .  What a silver night!
That was our bench the time you said to me
The long new poem — but how different now,
How eerie with the curtain of the fog
Making it strange to all the friendly trees!
There is no wind, and yet great curving scrolls
Carve themselves, ever changing, in the mist.
Walk on a little, let me stand here watching
To see you, too, grown strange to me and far. . . .
I used to wonder how the park would be
If one night we could have it all alone —
No lovers with close arm-encircled waists
To whisper and break in upon our dreams.
And now we have it!  Every wish comes true!
We are alone now in a fleecy world;
Even the stars have gone.  We two alone!

November By Emily Dickinson

Besides the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze.

 

A few incisive mornings,
A few ascetic eyes, —
Gone Mr. Bryant’s golden-rod,
And Mr. Thomson’s sheaves.

 

Still is the bustle in the brook,
Sealed are the spicy valves;
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The eyes of many elves.

 

Perhaps a squirrel may remain,
My sentiments to share.
Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind,
Thy windy will to bear!

I am Thankful for by Nancy J Carmody

I Am Thankful For

by Nancy J Carmody

I am thankful for

…..the mess to clean up after a party
because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

​…..the taxes that I pay
because it means that I’m employed.

…..the clothes that fit a little too snug
because it means I have enough to eat.

​…..my shadow who watches me work
because it means I am out in the sunshine.

​…..the spot I find at the far end of the parking lot
because it means I am capable of walking.

​…..all the complaining I hear about our Government
because it means we have freedom of speech.

​…..that lady behind me in church who sings offkey
​because it means that I can hear.

​…..lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing
because it means I have a home.

…..my huge heating bill
because it means that I am warm.

​…..weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day
because it means that I have been productive.

…..the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours
because it means that I am alive.

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I’m grateful for change, the ups and the downs, Both happiness and sadness, the smiles and the frowns.I’m grateful to writing for giving me pause, To examine the world, for its beauty and flaws. To cheese, I thank you for obvious reasons, And I too must show love to...

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A Poem of Gratitude by Traveling Mitch

I’m grateful for change, the ups and the downs,
Both happiness and sadness, the smiles and the frowns.
I’m grateful to writing for giving me pause,
To examine the world, for its beauty and flaws.

To cheese, I thank you for obvious reasons,
And I too must show love to all four of the seasons.
Next up on this list is my trusty canoe,
Cheers to good health, and down with the flu.

Much love to Bri, my partner in life,
I sleep with a smile because she’s on my right,
Plus she’s awfully pretty, and we rarely fight.

An ode to my mind, both wild and curious,
Some teachers loved me, and others were furious,
My brain’s a bit different, for better or worse,
But I see now a blessing, where I once saw a curse.

I’m thankful for books in more ways than one,
They gave me my bullets, my flag, and my gun.
I like the soft sound of traffic, with the moon way up high,
or a nice long walk, though I wish I could fly.

I adore a good drive all on my own,
And that one silly show where they battle for Thrones.
The Leafs, the Raptors, the Jays, and the Bills,
A really loud concert, with all of its thrills.

To not mention hummus would be quite a crime,
And soda water with fresh lemon and lime.
I love speaking new languages in far away places,
I love bold red wine, not bottles, but cases.

I’m thankful for family, I’ve got it quite good,

In the comfort of home, I’ve felt understood,
When it comes to my mom, we’re one and the same,
We’re both like tigers who refuse to be tamed.

My father’s guidance has changed my life,
He’s a calming voice during struggle and strife,
And then there’s my brother, my hero indeed,
I’m happy to follow when he’s in the lead.

Much love to beer for all that you do,
But the really good stuff, not Labatt Blue,
I sure don’t drink you like I did in the past,
Though the university days were truly a blast.

A little bit of praise for fresh veggies and fruit,
And to my Turkish pal Gürbüz, who made all my suits.
I must mention my friends before I forget,
And that strange chicken oven that you forget once you set,

I’ll take an old fashioned with a fresh orange peel,
I love blue, green, and red, and I don’t mind teal,
Let’s hear it for coffee, and also for tea,
I’m down with the insects, from crickets to bees.

I yearn for a moon, so full and so bright,
I do love the day, though not like the night,
I made a good teacher, I did love that,
And the gym brings me joy, and keeps off the fat.

I’m grateful to be born in the Great White North,
With the freedom of speech to talk back and forth,
Clean water, good soil, and a diverse population,
A good place to live, great for vacation.

Because if he didn’t, he’d be noticeably pissed,
He’d figure it out, he’s smarter than Hawking,
When he’s meowing at us, he’s practically talking.

I’ve always been active, I’m grateful for that,
I thrive with a puck, not bad with a bat.
I love the Olympics, and the waving of flags,
On that glorious podium, not a shoulder could sag.

My hometown of Toronto, it needs to be noted
It’s where I grew up, and where I first voted,
Diversity, I know – it what makes us stand out,
And we all get along, in case you had doubts.

Though my office is small, it’s completely my own,
It’s where I run things from my computer and phone,
And I’m humbled and proud that my business is growing,
With plans for the future that don’t involve slowing.

Music, oh music, how could I forget?
I like it on vinyl, I’ll pass on cassettes,
Give me some indie, some electro, and funk,
Up at my cottage, on a bed or a bunk.

I adore maps, both the old and the new,
And my kindergarten teacher, who let me use glue.
I do love art, though can’t draw at all,
I still like the movies, but can’t stand the mall.

To my long-serving laptop, the one they call Mac,
In school and in business, you’ve had my back,
Some love for Steve Jobs, and to brilliant brains,
Those who enlighten, create, and explain.

To the podcast in general, podcasters at large,
It’s amazing what’s created, and how few charge,
It is now the age where information is shared,
Where you don’t need permission before content is aired.

I’m showing some thanks to the makers of pens,
And to camera companies that make a good lens,
To people who still build things with quality in mind,
Who put aside profit, to better mankind.

I want to thank manatees for being absurd,
I know I mentioned cheese, but what about curd?
To electricity, I think thee, for guiding the way,
Here comes the night, one flick, and it’s day.

To folks like Mr. Rogers and Mr. Dressup, too,
Who think of children, and all they can do.
Thank you in general to the old and the wise,
I hear your stories, and see into your eyes.

To crazy cartographers, and the makers of maps,
Who expanded perspective, and wonder, perhaps,
To folks who get up each time that they trip,
Who won’t be defined by a stumble or slip.

I respect the world’s forces much greater than me,
That help us ditch “I,” and start thinking in “We,”
It may be religion, a movement, a book,
That help us discover, to seek and to look.

I’ve got to mention you for reading all this,
Whether you’re a Mrs., a Mr., or Miss,
And not just this poem, but all that I do.
I couldn’t be me if it wasn’t for you.

To sunsets, the sunrise, the planets and stars,
To the everyday people, not presidents or czars,
Life is a journey, a moment, a vow,
Don’t wait for tomorrow, cherish right now.

Kindness by Edgar Albert Guest

Kindness

One never knows
How far a word of kindness goes;
One never sees
How far a smile of friendship flees.
Down, through the years,
The deed forgotten reappears.

The Year Outgrows The Spring

The Year Outgrows the Spring
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The year outgrows the spring it thought so sweet
And clasps the summer with a new delight,
Yet wearied, leaves her languors and her heat
When cool-browed autumn dawns upon his sight.

In Time’s Swing by Lucy Larcom

In Time’s Swing
by Lucy Larcom

Father Time, your footsteps go
Lightly as the falling snow.
In your swing I’m sitting, see!
Push me softly; one, two; three,
Twelve times only. Like a sheet,
Spread the snow beneath my feet.
Singing merrily, let me swing
Out of winter into spring.

The Seasons by E.F Hayward

The Seasons by E. F. Hayward

I love to watch the seasons change;
As Summer takes the throne from Spring,
So wonderful sublime and strange,
Each one its own sweet songs does sing.

The Mirage Machine by Lord Bechard

“The Mirage Machine” is a poem by Rev Lord C.M. Bechard, and
is a multi part work that explores themes of imagination, the human mind, dreams, and reality

The Most Important Things In Life

The Most Important Things in Life

The most important things in life
Are not ‘things,’ most know
It’s the people in our lives
Who make our Hearts grow

Our family of Loved ones
Are the most important of all
They fill our lives with memories
Especially those who are small

The little simple moments
A smile, a hug, or glance
Whether in a photo, or our minds
Makes our Hearts sing and dance

Some friends are like family
They bloom perfectly in our Heart
Whether grown over the years
Or there right from the very start

Love, our greatest possession
It’s who we truly are
Giving and receiving Unconditionally
In life, we will go far

Good health is often taken for granted
Until something in the body goes wrong
Focusing on anything positive
Can bring relief along

Feeling appreciation
Speaking of our gratitude
Being thankful for all things
Is a Blessed attitude

Keeping an open mind
To learning all our days
Growth continues and expands
In hundreds of delightful ways

Shining our Inner-Light
Helping others along their way
Respecting the differences
Letting all have their own say

Tranquillity and Peace
A rested and calm mind
Practising meditation
Our own way, we can find

Faith, an individual thing
Not just for those religious
Simple hope, or a belief
That life is truly glorious

Inspiration lifts our Spirit
Helps us reach our goal
Whether given or received
It delights our eternal Soul

People are important
And the memories we build
Good health for a vital life
Inspiration, to be fulfilled

Appreciating and respecting
All of life, everywhere
Having faith in the Peace
And happiness to share

These are life’s treasures
And money has no part
But the greatest of them all
Is the Love in everyone’s Heart!

December By Drew Osmond

Never Have I felt a December
So cold, so lonely.
The walk along the lake,
That changed a fate
The stumble in the snow,
I didn’t let go.

Kindness by Edgar Albert Guest

Kindness

One never knows
How far a word of kindness goes;
One never sees
How far a smile of friendship flees.
Down, through the years,
The deed forgotten reappears.

Greater Love by Wilfred Owen

Greater Love poem by Wilfred Owen

Love is More Thicker Than Forget

love is more thicker than forget

By E. E. Cummings

love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail

The Year Outgrows The Spring

The Year Outgrows the Spring
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The year outgrows the spring it thought so sweet
And clasps the summer with a new delight,
Yet wearied, leaves her languors and her heat
When cool-browed autumn dawns upon his sight.

In Time’s Swing by Lucy Larcom

In Time’s Swing
by Lucy Larcom

Father Time, your footsteps go
Lightly as the falling snow.
In your swing I’m sitting, see!
Push me softly; one, two; three,
Twelve times only. Like a sheet,
Spread the snow beneath my feet.
Singing merrily, let me swing
Out of winter into spring.

The Seasons by E.F Hayward

The Seasons by E. F. Hayward

I love to watch the seasons change;
As Summer takes the throne from Spring,
So wonderful sublime and strange,
Each one its own sweet songs does sing.

The Mirage Machine by Lord Bechard

“The Mirage Machine” is a poem by Rev Lord C.M. Bechard, and
is a multi part work that explores themes of imagination, the human mind, dreams, and reality

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