Poems About Life to Inspire You

What is life? People have been asking themselves this fundamental question since the time immemorial. However, it seems that the only right answer doesn’t exist. If you look up the word “life” in dictionaries, you will be surprised to discover that each one suggests a different definition. Believe it or not, each person tends to understand and accept this or that phenomena in their own way. Life is no exception.

You can express the way you see and feel this world and life in it through various forms of art. As a genre of literature, poetry has been trying to give its rhymed answer to an eternal question what the meaning is behind our life. Some poems about life are just the result of the author’s reflecting on his/her own life. Other poets let their inner voices speak through 4 stanzas and 5 stanza poems in order to be heard and understood.

Every single lyricist has his own original purpose for writing poems about real life and life problems. The best thing is that we all can learn a lot from those precious pieces of poetry. Bet that you all will find something familiar or close to your heart in every poem presented below.

Here you will find a great variety of poems on life in English written by both contemporary authors and classic poets. If you are looking for the best short poems about life, free poems to share with your friends on Facebook or some great poem examples that suit your way of life, you are in the right place at the right time. We have the best selection of modern and traditional poems for every taste.

Nice Motivational Short Poems About Life

Bumpy Ride

Life has many ups and downs,
Loving smiles and also frowns.
Good events and some are bad,
Happy emotions, others mad.
It can be a bumpy ride,
How you handle it, you decide!


By Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

The Bard’s Last Tale

By Ken Sanes

I am a singer of stories,
And in my youth I learned
That love is bittersweet
When it is unreturned.

And I learned something later
That I also like to sing:
The return gives life meaning
And reduces death’s sting.

But it was in age that I realized,
When love and love meet,
They are part of one love,
And then love is complete.

My Wage

By Jessie B. Rittenhouse

I bargained with Life for a penny,
And Life would pay no more,
However I begged at evening
When I counted my scanty store;

For Life is a just employer,
He gives you what you ask,
But once you have set the wages,
Why, you must bear the task.

I worked for a menial’s hire,
Only to learn, dismayed,
That any wage I had asked of Life,
Life would have paid.

Life Steps 

By Catherine Pulsifer

Our entire life is made up of choices,
What we decide, the action we take,
the attitude we display
All represent the steps of life.

Sometimes we take two steps forward
And one-step back.
Some of us take baby steps
Some of us take giant steps

But the secret is not to let that
one step back turn into a failure.
Learn from backward steps
And keep on stepping forward in this dance Called Life!

Making Life Worth While

By George Eliot

Every soul that touches yours –
Be it the slightest contact –
Get there from some good;
Some little grace; one kindly thought;
One aspiration yet unfelt;
One bit of courage
For the darkening sky;
One gleam of faith
To brave the thickening ills of life;
One glimpse of brighter skies –
To make this life worthwhile
And heaven a surer heritage.

I Love Life

Our life, we may shape and mold,
It’s more precious, than all the gold.
As we wake, there’s a shine,
From our sun, the day is fine.

With our family, life we share,
They love us back, they truly care.
We are never, ever alone,
We are people, we’re not stone.

I love life, for the little things,
When a little child sings.
Abundant joy, we may create,
I love life, it’s truly great!

Awesome Poems About Life with Deep Meaning


By Joseph Cacciotti

Have you ever driven down a road?
Just to drive with no destination in mind.
The road seems to go on and on
With no stopping point
Life is like that long road going on and on
Not knowing when it’s going to end.
But still you strive for another tomorrow
Hoping that in the long run
Everything will turn out alright
Just like the road though
It must come to an end.

A balanced life

By Anonymous

My life has been balanced, with pleasures and trials,
I’ve had many teardrops, and thousand of smile.

I’ve soared to the moon, and I’ve plunged to the sand,
My life has been balanced, by God’s loving hand.

I’ve had many friendships, I’ve had a few foes.
In the life of Christian, that’s just the way that it goes.

Should I simply accept, only good from God’s hands?
No, I must endure it all, whatever He plans.

But of one thing I can be certain, and you can be too.
All things work out for the best, as God deals with you.

The Roller Coaster Life

We are just in a whole crazy,
Perplexing roller coaster ride;
When we have problems,
We are at the downside.
But sure, the time will come
When with the sky we’ll collide;
Where the good feelings came
And the pain will all subside.
So when the time comes
you are going to fall;
You should always know
That He’s the one to call.
Eventually, you’ll soar up;
The wheels will start to roll;
‘Till you reach the peak,
and You’ll be standing tall.

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, 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,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though 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 kept 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 traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Foundation of Life

By Dorsey Baker

If you are always looking for fault,
that is what you will find-
If you are always looking for fault,
that is what you will find-
and you’ll never have peace of mind.
If you are always looking for the bad,
you’ll never see the good,
If you are always looking for the bad,
you’ll never see the good, surely must be clearly understood-
Don’t look for the shadow and the sun you will see,
Don’t look for the shadow and the sun you will see.
and a better human being you will surely be!

Wait For Life To Begin

By Julie Hebert

When I was still in a stroller, I couldn’t wait to be older,
Life as a child went too slow.
But now that I’m older, I’m somewhat unsure,
Of why growing up quick was needed so.

Even grown, I still am prone,
To wondering when my real life will begin.
First school, then jobs, apartments, and some in between sobs,
Life is much more than just jumping in.

As you grow, you learn, although,
Sometimes its out of your control.
Going with it, without feeling unfit,
Can help you achieve your goal.

WIth a little bit of patience, and a little bit of maintenance,
You will one day achieve your goal.
Just do what you can, with what you have in plan,
And one day success will be in control.

The Lesson

by Maya Angelou

I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge.
The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.

The Best Famous Poems About Life

‘Sonnet 18’

by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

The life we have is very great

By Emily Dickinson

The Life we have is very great.
The Life that we shall see
Surpasses it, we know, because
It is Infinity.
But when all Space has been beheld
And all Dominion shown
The smallest Human Heart’s extent
Reduces it to none.

May 24, 1980

By Joseph Brodsky

I have braved, for want of beasts, steel cages
carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters,
lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis,
dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles.
From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly
width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives rake my nitty-gritty.
Quit the country that bore and nursed me.
Those who forgot me would make a city.
I have waded the steppes that saw yelling Huns in saddles,
worn the clothes nowadays back in fashion in every quarter,
planted rye, tarred the roofs of pigsties and stables,
guzzled everything save dry water.
I’ve admitted the sentries’ third eye into my wet and foul
dreams. Munched the bread of exile: it’s stale and warty.
Granted my lungs all sound except the howl;
switched to a whisper. Now I am forty.
What should I say about life? That it’s long and abhors transparence.
Broken eggs make me grieve; the omlette, though, makes me vomit.
Yet until brown clay has been crammed down my larynx,
only gratitude will be gushing from it.

O Captain! My Captain!

By Walt Whitman

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack,
the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for
you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths- for you the shores
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

On His Blindness

by John Milton 

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”


by Pablo Neruda 

I am not jealous
of what came before me.
Come with a man
on your shoulders,
come with a hundred men in your hair,
come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,
come like a river
full of drowned men
which flows down to the wild sea,
to the eternal surf, to Time!
Bring them all
to where I am waiting for you;
we shall always be alone,
we shall always be you and I
alone on earth
to start our life!

Beautiful Long Poems About Life

Human Life

By Samuel Coleridge

If dead, we cease to be ; if total gloom
Swallow up life’s brief flash for aye, we fare
As summer-gusts, of sudden birth and doom,
Whose sound and motion not alone declare,
But are their whole of being ! If the breath
Be Life itself, and not its task and tent,
If even a soul like Milton’s can know death ;
O Man ! thou vessel purposeless, unmeant,
Yet drone-hive strange of phantom purposes !

Surplus of Nature’s dread activity,
Which, as she gazed on some nigh-finished vase,
Retreating slow, with meditative pause,
She formed with restless hands unconsciously.
Blank accident ! nothing’s anomaly !
If rootless thus, thus substanceless thy state,
Go, weigh thy dreams, and be thy hopes, thy fears,
The counter-weights !–Thy laughter and thy tears
Mean but themselves, each fittest to create
And to repay the other ! Why rejoices
Thy heart with hollow joy for hollow good ?
Why cowl thy face beneath the mourner’s hood ?

Why waste thy sighs, and thy lamenting voices,
Image of Image, Ghost of Ghostly Elf,
That such a thing as thou feel’st warm or cold ?
Yet what and whence thy gain, if thou withhold
These costless shadows of thy shadowy self ?
Be sad ! be glad ! be neither ! seek, or shun !
Thou hast no reason why ! Thou canst have none ;
Thy being’s being is contradiction.

Hymn to life

By Nazim Hikmet

The hair falling on your forehead
suddenly lifted.
Suddenly something stirred on the ground.
The trees are whispering
in the dark.
Your bare arms will be cold.

Far off
where we can’t see,
the moon must be rising.
It hasn’t reached us yet,
slipping through the leaves
to light up your shoulder.
But I know
a wind comes up with the moon.
The trees are whispering.
Your bare arms will be cold.

From above,
from the branches lost in the dark,
something dropped at your feet.
You moved closer to me.
Under my hand your bare flesh is like the fuzzy skin of a fruit.
Neither a song of the heart nor “common sense”–
before the trees, birds, and insects,
my hand on my wife’s flesh
is thinking.
Tonight my hand
can’t read or write.
Neither loving nor unloving…
It’s the tongue of a leopard at a spring,
a grape leaf,
a wolf’s paw.
To move, breathe, eat, drink.
My hand is like a seed
splitting open underground.
Neither a song of the heart nor “common sense,”
neither loving nor unloving.
My hand thinking on my wife’s flesh
is the hand of the first man.
Like a root that finds water underground,
it says to me:
“To eat, drink, cold, hot, struggle, smell, color–
not to live in order to die
but to die to live…”

And now
as red female hair blows across my face,
as something stirs on the ground,
as the trees whisper in the dark,
and as the moon rises far off
where we can’t see,
my hand on my wife’s flesh
before the trees, birds, and insects,
I want the right of life,
of the leopard at the spring, of the seed splitting open–
I want the right of the first man.

In the Morning of Life

by Thomas Moore

In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown,
And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin,
When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own,
And the light that surrounds us is all from within;
Oh ’tis not, believe me, in that happy time
We can love, as in hours of less transport we may; —
Of our smiles, of our hopes, ’tis the gay sunny prime,
But affection is truest when these fade away.

When we see the first glory of youth pass us by,
Like a leaf on the stream that will never return,
When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high,
First tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn;
Then, then in the time when affection holds sway
With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew;
Love, nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they,
But the love born of Sorrow, like Sorrow, is true.

In climes full of sunshine, though splendid the flowers,
Their sighs have no freshness, their odour no worth;
‘Tis the cloud and the mist of our own Isle of showers
That call the rich spirit of fragrancy forth.
So it is not ‘mid splendour, prosperity, mirth,
That the depth of Love’s generous spirit appears;
To the sunshine of smiles it may first owe its birth,
But the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears.

The Test

By L.F. Richard Smith

What mettle are you made of my son?
From what fiber have you been cast?
In glass, or wood, or iron are thee?
By your life are these questions asked.

You may learn much about a man
By his fortitude and his grain,
Only in time will each be tested
Under stress, through fire, or disdain.

When life’s pressures are brought to bear
On the road which you have been sent,
Will you shatter or splinter in angst,
Or will your mettle only be bent?

When love is blessed, but then meets dour;
Enter your heart ‘pon the funeral pyre,
Will you warp and crack, or fume in rage,
Or shall you temper while engulfed by fire?

Now a man of glass can be seen through
With simply a look or a glance.
A man of wood, or what’s left of him
Is by grace of hatchet or lance.

But an iron man, steadfast and true,
With fortitude that time has shapened,
May be bent, and marred, and hardened, but
He can laugh at the test he’s taken.

The poetry of life

By Friedrich von Shiller

“Who would himself with shadows entertain,
Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain,
Or nurse false hopes that do but cheat the true?–
Though with my dream my heaven should be resigned–
Though the free-pinioned soul that once could dwell
In the large empire of the possible,
This workday life with iron chains may bind,
Yet thus the mastery o’er ourselves we find,
And solemn duty to our acts decreed,
Meets us thus tutored in the hour of need,
With a more sober and submissive mind!
How front necessity – yet bid thy youth
Shun the mild rule of life’s calm sovereign, truth.”

So speakest thou, friend, how stronger far than I;
As from experience – that sure port serene –
Thou lookest; – and straight, a coldness wraps the sky,
The summer glory withers from the scene,
Scared by the solemn spell; behold them fly,
The godlike images that seemed so fair!
Silent the playful Muse–the rosy hours
Halt in their dance; and the May-breathing flowers
Fall from the sister-graces’ waving hair.
Sweet-mouthed Apollo breaks his golden lyre,
Hermes, the wand with many a marvel rife; –
The veil, rose-woven, by the young desire
With dreams, drops from the hueless cheeks of life.
The world seems what it is–a grave! and love
Casts down the bondage wound his eyes above,
And sees! – He sees but images of clay
Where he dreamed gods; and sighs – and glides away.
The youngness of the beautiful grows old,
And on thy lips the bride’s sweet kiss seems cold;
And in the crowd of joys – upon thy throne
Thou sittest in state, and hardenest into stone.

My philosophy of life

By John Ashbery

Just when I thought there wasn’t room enough
for another thought in my head, I had this great idea–
call it a philosophy of life, if you will. Briefly,
it involved living the way philosophers live,
according to a set of principles. OK, but which ones?

That was the hardest part, I admit, but I had a
kind of dark foreknowledge of what it would be like.
Everything, from eating watermelon or going to the bathroom
or just standing on a subway platform, lost in thought
for a few minutes, or worrying about rain forests,
would be affected, or more precisely, inflected
by my new attitude. I wouldn’t be preachy,
or worry about children and old people, except
in the general way prescribed by our clockwork universe.
Instead I’d sort of let things be what they are
while injecting them with the serum of the new moral climate
I thought I’d stumbled into, as a stranger
accidentally presses against a panel and a bookcase slides back,
revealing a winding staircase with greenish light
somewhere down below, and he automatically steps inside
and the bookcase slides shut, as is customary on such occasions.
At once a fragrance overwhelms him – not saffron, not lavender,
but something in between. He thinks of cushions, like the one
his uncle’s Boston bull terrier used to lie on watching him
quizzically, pointed ear-tips folded over. And then the great rush
is on. Not a single idea emerges from it. It’s enough
to disgust you with thought. But then you remember something
William James
wrote in some book of his you never read – it was fine, it had the
the powder of life dusted over it, by chance, of course, yet
still looking
for evidence of fingerprints. Someone had handled it
even before he formulated it, though the thought was his and
his alone.

It’s fine, in summer, to visit the seashore.
There are lots of little trips to be made.
A grove of fledgling aspens welcomes the traveler. Nearby
are the public toilets where weary pilgrims have carved
their names and addresses, and perhaps messages as well,
messages to the world, as they sat
and thought about what they’d do after using the toilet
and washing their hands at the sink, prior to stepping out
into the open again. Had they been coaxed in by principles,
and were their words philosophy, of however crude a sort?
I confess I can move no farther along this train of thought –
something’s blocking it. Something I’m
not big enough to see over. Or maybe I’m frankly scared.
What was the matter with how I acted before?
But maybe I can come up with a compromise – I’ll let
things be what they are, sort of. In the autumn I’ll put up jellies
and preserves, against the winter cold and futility,
and that will be a human thing, and intelligent as well.
I won’t be embarrassed by my friends’ dumb remarks,
or even my own, though admittedly that’s the hardest part,
as when you are in a crowded theater and something you say
riles the spectator in front of you, who doesn’t even like the idea
of two people near him talking together. Well he’s
got to be flushed out so the hunters can have a crack at him –
this thing works both ways, you know. You can’t always
be worrying about others and keeping track of yourself
at the same time. That would be abusive, and about as much fun
as attending the wedding of two people you don’t know.
Still, there’s a lot of fun to be had in the gaps between ideas.
That’s what they’re made for! Now I want you to go out there
and enjoy yourself, and yes, enjoy your philosophy of life, too.
They don’t come along every day. Look out! There’s a big one…

Really Good Poems about Life Everyone Should Read

The room of my life

By Anne Sexton

in the room of my life
the objects keep changing.
Ashtrays to cry into,
the suffering brother of the wood walls,
the forty-eight keys of the typewriter
each an eyeball that is never shut,
the books, each a contestant in a beauty contest,
the black chair, a dog coffin made of Naugahyde,
the sockets on the wall
waiting like a cave of bees,
the gold rug
a conversation of heels and toes,
the fireplace
a knife waiting for someone to pick it up,
the sofa, exhausted with the exertion of a whore,
the phone
two flowers taking root in its crotch,
the doors
opening and closing like sea clams,
the lights
poking at me,
lighting up both the soil and the laugh.
The windows,
the starving windows
that drive the trees like nails into my heart.
Each day I feed the world out there
although birds explode
right and left.
I feed the world in here too,
offering the desk puppy biscuits.
However, nothing is just what it seems to be.
My objects dream and wear new costumes,
compelled to, it seems, by all the words in my hands
and the sea that bangs in my throat.

Be thankful that you don’t already have
everything you desire. If you did, what would
there be to look forward to?
Be thankful when you don’t know something,
for it gives you the opportunity to learn.
Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.
Be thankful for your limitation, because they
give you opportunities for improvement.
Be thankful for your mistakes
They will teach you valuable lessons.
Be thankful when you are tired and weary,
Because it means you have made a difference.
It’s easy to be thankful for the good things
A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who are
Also thankful for the setbacks.
Find a way to be thankful for your troubles,
And they can become your blessings.

Life is fine

By Langston Hughes

I went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn’t,
So I jumped in and sank.
I came up once and hollered!
I came up twice and cried!
If that water hadn’t a-been so cold
I might’ve sunk and died.

    But it was      Cold in that water!      It was cold!

I took the elevator
Sixteen floors above the ground.
I thought about my baby
And thought I would jump down.
I stood there and I hollered!
I stood there and I cried!
If it hadn’t a-been so high
I might’ve jumped and died.

    But it was      High up there!      It was high!

So since I’m still here livin’,
I guess I will live on.
I could’ve died for love—
But for livin’ I was born
Though you may hear me holler,
And you may see me cry—
I’ll be dogged, sweet baby,
If you gonna see me die.

    Life is fine!      Fine as wine!      Life is fine!

A Psalm of Life

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

What the heart of the young man said to the Psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;—

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Looking Back

by Edgar A. Guest

I might have been rich if I’d wanted the gold
instead of the friendships I’ve made.
I might have had fame if I’d sought for renown
in the hours when I purposely played.
Now I’m standing to-day on the far edge of life,
and I’m just looking backward to see
What I’ve done with the years and the days that were mine,
and all that has happened to me.

I haven’t built much of a fortune to leave
to those who shall carry my name,
And nothing I’ve done shall entitle me now
to a place on the tablets of fame.
But I’ve loved the great sky and its spaces of blue;
I’ve lived with the birds and the trees;
I’ve turned from the splendor of silver and gold
to share in such pleasures as these.

I’ve given my time to the children who came;
together we’ve romped and we’ve played,
And I wouldn’t exchange the glad hours spent
with them for the money that I might have made.
I chose to be known and be loved by the few,
and was deaf to the plaudits of men;
And I’d make the same choice should the chance
come to me to live my life over again.

I’ve lived with my friends and I’ve shared in their joys,
known sorrow with all of its tears;
I have harvested much from my acres of life,
though some say I’ve squandered my years.
For much that is fine has been mine to enjoy,
and I think I have lived to my best,
And I have no regret, as I’m nearing the end,
for the gold that I might have possessed.

Life and Death

Life begins with something so small,
Innocent baby, could barely crawl.
Beautiful toddler, grows into a child,
Those teenage years, are often quite wild.

During adulthood, we all try to find,
Unique experiences, rewire each mind.
For several decades, we become so busy,
This is life, sometimes it’s dizzy.

Years go by, we continue to age,
We approach, our final page.
The meaning of life we understand.
Death converts, our body to sand.

The river of life

By Thomas Campbell

The more we live, more brief appear
Our life’s succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.

The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.

But as the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow’s shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?

When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid?

It may be strange—yet who would change
Time’s course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone,
And left our bosoms bleeding?

Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion’d to their sweetness.

The Great Rhyming Poems about Life That Are Easy to Remember


By Shawnee Kellie

One word can spark a moment,
One flower can wake the dream;
One tree can start a forest,
One bird can herald Spring.

One smile can bring a friendship,
One handclasp can lift a soul;
One star can guide a ship at sea,
One cheer can obtain a goal.

One vote can change a Nation,
One sunbeam can lift a room;
One candle wipes out darkness,
One laugh will conquer gloom.
One look can change two lives;
One kiss can make love bloom.

One step must start each journey,
One word must start each prayer;
One hope can raise our spirits,
One touch can show you care.

One voice can speak with wisdom,
One heart can know what’s true;
One life can make a difference,
One life is me and you….


A Time To Believe

By B.J. Morbitzer

To believe is to know that
every day is a new beginning.
Is to trust that miracles happen,
and dreams really do come true.

To believe is to see angels
dancing among the clouds,
To know the wonder of a stardust sky
and the wisdom of the man in the moon.

To believe is to know the value of a nurturing heart,
The innocence of a child’s eyes
and the beauty of an aging hand,
for it is through their teachings we learn to love.

To believe is to find the strength
and courage that lies within us
When it’s time to pick up
the pieces and begin again.

To believe is to know
we are not alone,
That life is a gift
and this is our time to cherish it.

To believe is to know
that wonderful surprises are just
waiting to happen,
And all our hopes and dreams are within reach.

If only we believe.

Lessons in life

By Kaleigh Magan Davies

Live it well,
Don’t stay in the past,
Don’t sit and dwell.
You made a mistake
But millions do,
The difference is luck,
They don’t get caught like you.
Living is learning,
If you are given the chance,
Learn, Love, Grow,
Let your life enhance,
You know you were wrong,
You’ve been punished enough;
It’s time to stop being
So hard and tough,
Forgive yourself,
Learn from your mistake,
This is your chance
To be what you make;
You are better now, you know more –
You see straight,
Life is a lesson
To learn…
Not hate

Life’s Too Short

Life’s too short, to simply waste,
Slow it down, don’t move with haste.
Time is once, you get to spend,
Carefully choose, every friend.

Life’s too short, to change careers,
Choice is yours, they’re your years.
Maybe once, or maybe twice,
Look inside, to find advice.

Life’s too short, to just complain,
Rid negativity from your brain.
Life’s too short, time won’t freeze,
Enjoy it all, won’t you please.

Life is

By Michael Sage

Life is like a river, constantly flowing,
Life is like a tree, constantly growing.

Life is like the desert, constantly changing,
Life is like the oceans, constantly re-arranging,

Life is accepting, both others and yourself,
Life is understanding, and believing in oneself,

Life is committing, and doing the best you can,
Life is believing, and being your own very best fan.

Life is for loving, and also for caring,
Life is for helping, and giving and sharing.

Life is the seeds that you plant each day,
Life is creating a better world in which to stay.

What Life Should Be

By Patricia A. Fleming

To learn while still a child,
What this life is meant to be.
To know it goes beyond myself,
It’s so much more than me.

To overcome the tragedies,
To survive the hardest times.
To face those moments filled with pain,
And still manage to be kind.

To fight for those who can’t themselves,
To always share my light.
With those who wander in the dark,
To love with all my might.

To still stand up with courage,
Though standing on my own.
To still get up and face each day,
Even when I feel alone.

To try to understand the ones,
That no one cares to know.
And make them feel some value,
When the world has let them go.

To be an anchor, strong and true,
That person loyal to the end.
To be a constant source of hope,
To my family and my friends.

To live a life of decency,
To share my heart and soul.
To always say I’m sorry,
When I’ve harmed both friend and foe.

To be proud of whom I’ve tried to be,
And this life I chose to live.
To make the most of every day,
By giving all I have to give.

To me that’s what this life should be,
To me that’s what it’s for.
To take what God has given me,
And make it so much more

To live a life that matters,
To be someone of great worth.
To love and be loved in return,
And make my mark on earth.

Life Still Has Meaning

By Anonymous

If there is a future, there is time for mending-
Time to see your troubles coming to an ending.
Life is never hopeless however great your sorrow-
If you’re looking forward to a new tomorrow.

If there is time for wishing then there is time for hoping-
When through doubt and darkness you are blindly groping.
Though the heart be heavy and hurt you may be feeling-
If there is time for praying there is time for healing.

So if through your window there is a new day breaking-
Thank God for the promise, though mind and soul be aching,
If with harvest over there is grain enough for gleaning-
There is a new tomorrow and life still has meaning.

Beautiful Poetry Answering the Question ‘What is life?”

What Is Life

by Samuel Coleridge

Resembles Life what once was held of Light,
Too ample in itself for human sight?
An absolute Self an element ungrounded
All, that we see, all colours of all shade
By encroach of darkness made?
Is very life by consciousness unbounded?
And all the thoughts, pains, joys of mortal breath,
A war-embrace of wrestling Life and Death?

What Is Life?

By John Clare

And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run,
A mist retreating from the morning sun,
A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream.
Its length? A minute’s pause, a moment’s thought.
And Happiness? A bubble on the stream,
That in the act of seizing shrinks to nought.

And what is Hope? The puffing gale of morn,
That of its charms divests the dewy lawn,
And robs each flow’ret of its gem—and dies;
A cobweb, hiding disappointment’s thorn,
Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise.

And what is Death? Is still the cause unfound?
That dark mysterious name of horrid sound?
A long and lingering sleep the weary crave.
And Peace? Where can its happiness abound?
Nowhere at all, save heaven and the grave.

Then what is Life? When stripped of its disguise,
A thing to be desired it cannot be;
Since everything that meets our foolish eyes
Gives proof sufficient of its vanity.
‘Tis but a trial all must undergo,
To teach unthankful mortals how to prize
That happiness vain man’s denied to know,
Until he’s called to claim it in the skies.

What Is Life?

By Susmita Dutta

Life is a mansion
That stands on the pillars of hope.
Life is a span
That needs to be covered with cautious steps.
Life is a stepping stone
That guides you to achieve your destination.
Life is a preacher
Who overpowers you with majestic valour.
And inspires you to tread the rugged path
With zealous vigour.
Life is a guardian
Who would always be encouraging
But never sympathetic.
Life is a thorny bush
That brings forth fragrant blossoms to those
Who choose to persevere.
Life is a reward of God.
Initiation and culmination of it is God’s discretion.
It is the retrospect of man,
Which decides the fruitfulness of his life.
Life is a mansion
That stands on the pillars of hope.


By William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

What Is Our Life

By Sir Walter Raleigh

WHAT is our life? The play of passion.
Our mirth? The music of division:
Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy.
The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is,
who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss.
The graves which hide us from the scorching
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus playing post we to our latest rest.
And then we die in earnest, not in jest.

Journey of Life

By Neptune Barman

Life`s a journey
Every journey has beginning and an end
We`re travellers in this journey of life
Our thoughts direct ways in the journey
This journey full of obstacles
But, need to face happily,
it has great value.
We born here for experience of this journey
This journey consists both positive and negative
It teaches us move forward and fulfill our dreams.
Life`s a journey, an unavoidable journey
Whichever way we want, we travel
And the path, we choose leads us our destiny

My meaning of Life

By Emily David

The meaning of life has no definition,
it’s never the same,
how it’s different,
makes it unique,
for every living soul,
My meaning of life is like a tree filled with leaves,
some leaves fall and others don’t,
Like the million of stars struck in space,
waiting to be discovered,
Like fire, can cause war or peace,
Like money,
used and wasted,
abused and hated,
loved and wanted,
But is there a meaning to it?
Is there a meaning to your life?
I don’t know, you decide.


DMCA.com Protection Status