A Purpose to Be Earned

Come and think on this poem – A PURPOSE TO BE EARNED

Objects, and the Distance Between Them

You keep searching for the answers
But the answers aren’t enough
What good is searching for the answers
When the questions never stop?

There is something in the silence
The moments in between
The words that leave out of your mouth
And the visions to be seen.

What if what you’re really seeking
Isn’t answers to be learned
But rather a reason to keep asking them
A purpose to be earned.

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A Light In A World Of Darkness – A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Please come and enjoy Walt’s beautiful poem – A LIGHT IN A WORLD OF DARKNESS

Walt's Writings

This old man
Still dreams
Of his yesterdays
And his tomorrows
His heart is filled with love
For all that has gone before
And all that is yet to be
His life has not been easy
Nor hard compared to some
His life is like his poetry
Rich and so fulfilling
He has seen the faces of the forest
Learned the courage of the wind
As he climbed where eagles fly
His truth is what he make it
He has known the silence
Of a waterfall morning
He leaves no words unsaid
He is the Keeper Of The Poetic Flame
A light in a world of darkness

~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2018 All Rights Reserved

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pockets full of solitude

Don’t Miss Drew’s great poem – POCKET FULL OF SOLITUDE!!

The Lonely Author

pockets full of solitude


Pockets full of solitude
accompany me
down desolate streets
as I think of you
wrapped in the silence
of your room

Red lights taunt
Like school yard bullies
Your words haunt
Every step I take
Rushed into a dead end
I should have read
the signs

Trapped in darkness
I find solace
when I imagine
your loneliness
walking hand in hand
with mine

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Being You

Savvy Raj

Our purpose creates us

We are born into it

It matters not how small or big

We are meant to fulfill it.

There is much good that we do without knowing…

And unknowingly lighten the load off another

A simple smile that sends a spark of hope

A warm embrace that spirits up hearts

A share of kindness that passes ones way.

Every little bit helps make a difference to this world.

Lets care to keep being all that we are.

And do the best we can.

Because we truly can!


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My Hands Remain Persistent

Primitive Poetry

My hands, they are persistent.
They reach for what they want.
Yet my mind remains inconsistent.
It wanders daily to new ideals.

One day I’m a saint, a lover.
The next my palms are hidden,
In a fist of rage, a fighter.
My hands remain persistent.

Perhaps it reflects my true self.
Shame ridden, and guilty of hate.
I reach for the top shelf.
My hands remain persistent.

That shelf holds what I need.
That shelf holds what I want.
My persistent hands grab with greed.
That Good Book that gives relief.

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