Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think i know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice
by Robert Frost

Invitation
If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hoper, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!
by Shel Silverstein

It's Dark In Here
I am writting these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here
So please exuse the hand writing
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lions cage
I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here
by Shel Silverstein

No Difference
Small as a peanut,
Big as a giant,
We're all the same size
When we turn off the light.

Rich as a sultan,
Poor as a mite,
We're all worth the same
When we turn off the light.

Red,black or orange,
Yellow or white,
We all look the same
When we turn off the light.

So maybe the way
To make everything right
Is for god to reach out
And turn off the light!
by Shel Silverstein


SPIRITS OF THE DEAD
Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone--
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy:

Be silent in that solitude
Which is not loneliness--for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are agian
In death around thee-- and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.

The night-- tho' clear-- shall frown--
And the stars shall look not down,
From their high thrones in the heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given--
But their red orbs with out beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burnung and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.

Now are thoughts thou shall not banish--
Now are visions ne'er to vanish--
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more-- like dew-drop from the grass

The breeze-- the breath of God-- is still--
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy-- Shadowy-- yet un broken,
Is a symbol and a token--
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!--
by edgar allen poe

To______
I heed not that my earthly lot
Hath--little of Earth in it--
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute:--
I mourn not that the desolate
Are happier,sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer by.
by edgar allen poe