By popular demand, I have decided to devote this site to the poems I read in class. Don't forget that I have another poem site on the Goodie Bag page, but I'll keep these separate so you can quickly access them, knowing you had them in class. Enjoy. Dr. B-A

Daily Poem Menu

Inner Strength - Author Unknown

Love Don't Mean - Eloise Greenfiled

September 11, 2001 - Randy Gold

Do It Anyway! - Mother Teresa

A Creed to Live By – Nancye Sims

No Thank You - Shel Silverstein

Love - Roy Croft

In the Orchard - Muriel Stuart

This is Just to Say & Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams - William Carlos Williams, Kenneth Koch

When Sue Wears Red - Langston Hughes

In the Morning - Paul Laurence Dunbar

Your Children - Kahlil Gibran

A Child's Poem - Unknown

Fuzzy - Unknown

Dawn - Paul Laurence Dunbar

From Father to Son - Rekha Kamath

Let Me Be Your Friend - Anonymous

Attitude – Charles Swindoll

Your Children - Kahlil Gibran

The Phantom Kiss - Paul Laurence Dunbar

Cheryl - Valerie R. Doubilet

Caged Bird - Maya Angelou

What I Want You to Know - Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander

Do the Right Thing - Confucius

Invictus - William Ernest Henley

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

Disappointed - Paul Laurence Dunbar

Waiting at the Window - A. A. Milne

Make Your Mark - David Barker

The Last Rose of Summer - Thomas Moore

We Met - Thomas Haynes Bayly

The Prayer of Faith- Hannah More Kohaus

Passing the Test - Patience Strong

If - Paul Laurence Dunbar

Highflight - Lt. John Gillespie Magee

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost

Leisure - William Henry Davies

Fairytales and Fantasies - Samuel P. DeLoach

Love Like an Ocean - Daryl Paul Gaitan

Sonnet 23 - William Shakespeare

Class Ring – Ed Broring

DAD - anonymous student who last his father at age 4

What Have You Done Today? - Nixon Waterman

A Brave and Startling Truth - Maya Angelou

The Lie - Maya Angelou

If You're Ever Going to Love Me - Anonymous

I Miss You Mother - Samuel P. DeLoach

Laugh and the World Laughs With You - Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Hang Tough - Calvin Coolidge

Dream Big - Author Unknown

We Wear the Mask - Paul Laurence Dunbar

The Chase - Paul Laurence Dunbar

Lea/o/ving - Dr. B-A

We Are More Alike Than We Are Unalike - Maya Angelou

Passing the Test - Patience Strong

What It Is - Nikki Giovanni

Myself - Edgar A. Guest

The Cold Within - Douglas C. Cortlett

The Quilting - Paul Laurence Dunbar

Spring Morning - A.A. Milne

What Good - April Sinclair

What I Want You to Know - Dr. B-A

Comes the Dawn - Veronica Shofstall

You Never Know - Helen Lowrie Marshall

Little Brown Hands - Mary H. Krout
 

 

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Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander

 

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 

Little Brown Hands
 

They drive home the cows from the pasture,
Up through the long, shady lane,
Where the quail whistles loud in the wheat-fields
That are yellow with ripening grain.
They find, in the thick waving grasses,
Where the scarlet-lipped strawberry grows;
They gather the earliest snow-drops,
And the first crimson buds of the rose.

They toss the hay in the meadow;
They gather the elder bloom white;
They find where the dusky grapes ripen
In the soft tinted October light.
They know where the apples hang ripest,
And are sweeter than Italy's wines;
They know where the fuit hangs the thickest
On the long, thorny blackberry vines.

They gather the delicate seaweeds,
And build tiny castles of sand;
They pick up the beautiful seashells,
Fairy barks that have drifted to land;
They wave from the tall, rocking treetops,
Where the oriole's hammock nest swings,
And at night time are folded in slumber
By a song that a fond mother sings.

Those who toil bravely are strongest,
The humble and poor become great;
And so, from these brown-handed children
Shall grow mighty rulers of state.
The pen of the author and statesman,
The noble and wise of the land,
The sword, and the chisel, and palette
Shall be held in the little brown hand.

By: Mary H. Krout




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Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander

 

 

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

September 11, 2001

 Yesterday was full of terror, today is full of rage
 Yesterday chins dropped and tears fell, today hearts are heavy and tears continue to fall
 Yesterday we questioned God and Country, today we have no answers
 Yesterday we didn't want to believe, today we cannot comprehend
 Yesterday we gathered in prayer, today there are more survivors
 Yesterday reminded us of our frailty, today reminds us of our humanity
 Yesterday we were untouchable, today we have been touched
 Yesterday heard anguished screams, today hears moments of silence
 Yesterday buildings crumbled, today our resolve is strong
 Yesterday we were American people, today we are America
 Yesterday was unthinkable and deadly, today the response is unprecedented and united
 Yesterday America's majesty was tarnished, today the flag still waives undaunted
 Yesterday thousands died, today is in their memory
 Yesterday was full of terror, tomorrow is full of hope

 By: Randy Gold
 
 

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Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander

 

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

Love

I love you,

Not only for what you are,

But for what I am

When I am with you.

I love you,

Not only for what

You have made of yourself,

But for what

You are making of me.

I love you

For the part of me

That you bring out;

I love you

For putting your hand

Into my heaped-up heart

And passing over

All the foolish, weak things

That you can't help

Dimly seeing there,

And for drawing out

Into the light

All the beautiful belongings

That no one else had looked

Quite far enough to find.

I love you because you

Are helping me to make

Of the lumber of my life

Not a tavern

But a temple;

Out of the works

Of my every day

Not a reproach

But a song.

I love you

Because you have done

More than any creed

Could have done

To make me good,

And more than any fate

Could have done

To make me happy.

You have done it

Without a touch,

Without a word,

Without a sign.

You have done it

By being yourself.

Perhaps that is what

Being a friend means,

After all.

By: Roy Croft

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Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander

 

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

Inner Strength

 

If you can start the day without caffeine or pep pills,
If you can be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains,
If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles,
If you can eat the same food every day and be grateful for it,
If you can understand when loved ones are too busy to give you time,
If you can overlook when people take things out on you when, through no fault of yours, something is wrong,
If you can take criticism and blame without resentment,
If you can face the world without lies and deciet,
If you can conquer tension without medical help,
If you can relax without liquor,
If you can sleep without the aid of drugs,
If you can do all these things,
THEN YOU ARE PROBABLY THE FAMILY DOG........
 

Author unknown.  Received from Karen Kuttner Covi
 
 

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Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander

 

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 

Love Don't Mean

Love don't mean all that kissing
Like on television
Love means Daddy
Saying keep your mamma company
Till I get back
And me doing it
 

By:  Eloise Greenfield, from "Honey, I Love"
 
 

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Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander

 

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

Do It Anyway!

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish. ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build it anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

By:  Mother Teresa
 
 

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 

In the Orchard
 

'I thought you loved me.' 'No, it was only fun.'

'When we stood there, closer than all?' 'Well, the harvest moon

Was shining and queer in your hair, and it turned my head.'

'That made you?' 'Yes.' 'Just the moon and the light it made

Under the tree?' 'Well, your mouth, too.' 'Yes, my mouth?'

'And the quiet there that sang like the drum in the booth.

You shouldn't have danced like that.' 'Like what?' 'So close,

With your head turned up, and the flower in your hair, a rose

That smelt all warm.' 'I loved you. I thought you knew

I wouldn't have danced like that with any but you.'

'I didn't know. I thought you knew it was fun.'

'I thought it was love you meant.' 'Well, it's done.' 'Yes, it's done.

I've seen boys stone a blackbird, and watched them drown

A kitten. . . it clawed at the reeds, and they pushed it down

Into the pool while it screamed. Is that fun, too?'

'Well, boys are like that . . . Your brothers. . ' 'Yes, I know.

But you, so lovely and strong! Not you! Not you!'

'They don't understand it's cruel. It's only a game.'

'And are girls fun, too?' 'No, still in a way it's the same.

It's queer and lovely to have a girl . . .' 'Go on.'

'It makes you mad for a bit to feel she's your own,

And you laugh and kiss her, and maybe you give her a ring,

but it's only in fun.' 'But I gave you everything.'

'Well, you shouldn't have done it. You know what a fellow thinks

When a girl does that.' 'Yes, he talks of her over his drinks

And calls her a---' 'Stop that now. I thought you knew.'

'But it wasn't with anyone else. It was only you.'

'How did I know? I thought you wanted it too.

I thought you were like the rest. Well, what's to be done?'

'To be done?' 'Is it all right?' 'Yes.' 'Sure?' 'Yes, but why?'

'I don't know. I thought you were going to cry.

You said you had something to tell me.' 'Yes, I know.

It wasn't anything really . . . I think I'll go.'

'Yes, it's late. There's thunder about, a drop of rain

Fell on my hand in the dark. I'll see you again

At the dance next week. You're sure that everything's right?'

'Yes,' 'Well, I'll be going.' 'Kiss me...' 'Good night.' ...'Good night.'

By: Muriel Stuart

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Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander

 

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

When Sue Wears Red

When Susanna Jones wears red

her face is like an ancient cameo

Turned brown by the ages.

Come with a blast of trumphets, Jesus!

When Susanna Jones wears red

A queen from some time-dead Egyptian night

Walks once again.

Blow trumphets, Jesus!

And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red

Burns in my heart a love-fire sharp like a pain.

Sweet silver trumphets, Jesus!

By: Langston Hughes

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

In The Morning

'Lias! 'Lias! Bless de Lawd!

Don' you know de day's erbroad?

Ef you don' git up, you scamp,

Dey'll be trouble in dis camp.

T'ink I gwine to let you sleep

W'ile I meks yo' boa'd an' keep?

Dat's a putty howdy-do--

Don' you hyeah me, 'Lias--you?

Bet ef I come crost dis flo'

You won' fin' no time to sno'.

Daylight all a-shinin' in

W'ile you sleep--w'y hit's a sin!

Ain't de can'le-light enough

to bu'n out widout a snuff,

But you go de mo'nin' thoo

Bu'nin' up de daylight too?

'Lias, don' you hyeah me call?

No use tu'nin' to'ds de wall;

I kin hyeah dat mattus squeak;

Don' you hyeah me w'en I speak?

Dis hyeah clock done struck off six--

Ca'line, bring me dem ah sticks!

Oh, you down, suh; huh! you down--

Look hyeah, don' you daih to frown.

Ma'ch yo'se'f an' wash yo' face,

Don' you splattah all de place:

I got somep'n else to do,

'Sides jes' cleaning' aftah you.

Tek dat comb an' fix yo' haid--

Looks jes' lak a feddah baid.

Look hyeah, boy, I let you see

You sha'n't roll yo' eyes at me.

Come hyeah; bring me dat ah strap!

Boy, I'll whup you 'twell you drap;

You done felt yo'sef too strong,

An' you sholy got me wrong.

Set down at dat table thaih;

Jes you whimpah ef you daih!

Evah mo'nin' on dis place,

Seem lak I mus' lose my grace.

Fol' yo' han's an' bow yo' haid--

Wait ontwell de blessin' 's said;

"Lawd, have mussy on ouah souls--

(Don' you daih to tech dem rolls--)

"Bless de food we gwine to eat--

(You set still--I see yo' feet;

You jes' try dat trick agin!)

"Gin us peace an' joy. Amen!"

By: Paul Laurence Dunbar

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

This is Just to Say

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold

By: William Carlos Williams

Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams

1

I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.

I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do

and its wooden beams were so inviting.

2

We laughed at the hollyhocks together

And then I sprayed them with lye.

Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.

3

I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the next ten years.

The man who asked for it was shabby

and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.

4

Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg.

Forgive me. I was clumsy, and

I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the doctor!

By: Kenneth Koch

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

Passing the Test

To everyone a gift is given and a problem set.

There's a mission to fulfill, a challenge to be met...

A special work to carry out that no one else can do--

A task to be accomplished, and to this we must be true.

Do not envy anyone because they seem to be--

Lucky, happy, and content, from care and worry free...

Everybody is on trial in their appointed sphere-

A smiling face may mask an ugly scar, a secret fear.

Covet nothing, envy none, for all have things to bear

Everything is balanced, God is good and life is fair...

Who has had the worst of it and who has had the best--

None can say, for each must pass his individual test.

By: Patience Strong

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

What It Is

if it's a trail we can hike it

if it has two wheels we can bike it

if it's an allergy we can sneeze it

if it's a pimple we can squeeze it

if it's dew it "covers Dixie"

if it's Tinker Bell it's a pixie

if it's a breeze it can blow us

if it's the sun it can know us

if it's a song we can sing it

it if flies we can wing it

if it's soda pop then it's drinkable

it might be X-Rated but that's unthinkable

if it's a boat we can sail it

if it's a letter we can mail it

if it's a star we can let it shine

if it's the moon it can make you mine

if it's grass we can rake it

if it's free why not take it

if it's a tide it can ebb

if it's a spider it can web

if it's chocolate we can dip it

if it's a golf ball we can chip it

if it's gum we can chew it

I hope it's love so we can do it

By: Nikki Giovanni

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu

Myself

I have to live with myself, and so

I want to be fit for myself to know,

I want to be able, as days go by,

Always to look myself straight in the eye;

I don't want to stand, with the setting sun,

And hate myself for the things I have done.

I don't want to keep on a closet shelf

A lot of secrets about myslef,

And fool myself, as I come and go,

Into thinking that nobody else will know

The kind of man I really am:

I don't want to dress myself up in sham.

I want to go out with my head erect,

I want to deserve all men's respect;

But here in the struggle for fame and pelf

I want to be able to like myself.

I don't want to look at myself and know

That I'm a bluster and bluff and empty show.

I can never hide myself from me;

I see what others may never see;

I know what others may never know,

I never can fool myself, and so.

Whatever happens, I want to be

Self-respecting and conscience free.

By: Edgar A. Guest

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

The Cold Within

Six humans trapped by happenstance

In black and bitter cold

Each one possessed a stick of wood,

Or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs,

The first woman held hers back

For on the faces around the fire

She noticed one was black.

The next man looking cross the way

Saw one not of his church,

And couldn't bring himself to give

The fire his stick of birch.

The third one sat in tattered clothes

He gave his coat a hitch,

Why should his log be put to use

To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought

Of the wealth he had in store

And how to keep what he had earned

From the lazy, shiftless poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge

As the fire passed from his sight,

For all he saw in his stick of wood

Was a chance to spite the white.

And the last man of this forlorn group

Did naught except for gain,

Giving only to those who gave

Was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death's still hands

Was proof of human sin.

They didn't die from the cold without,

They died from the cold within.

By: Author Unknown

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

The Quilting

Dolly sits a-quilting by her mother, stitch by stitch,

Gracious, how my pulses throub, how my fingers itch.

While I note her dainty waist, and her slender hand,

As she matches this and that, she stitches strand by strand.

And I long to tell her Life's a quilt and I'm a patch;

Love will do the stitching if she'll only be my match.

By: Paul Laurence Dunbar

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@.uga.edu
Spring Morning
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow--
Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow--
Anywhere, anywhere, I don't know.
Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.
If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You'd sail on water as blue as air.
And you'd see me here in the fields and say:
"Doesn't the sky look green today?"
Where am I going? The high rooks call:
"It's awful fun to be born at all."
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
"We do have beautiful things to do."
If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by.
You'd say to the wind when it took you away:
"That's where I wanted to go today!"
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow--
Anywhere, anywhere, I don't know.
By: A. A. Milne


 

 

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
What Good?

 
 

What good is a flower if it can't bloom?

What good is expansion if you have no room?

What good is a twig, if it can't sprout?

What good is a voice, if it can't shout?

What good is life, if you can't be free?

What good am I, if I can't be me?

By: April Sinclair, from her book, Coffee Will Make You Black

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
What I Want You To Know

 

More than anything, I want you to know,

that life and living is all to grow.

You'll appreciate life more, and learn more too,

If you open yourself up to things that are new.

Live life on YOUR terms, not the terms of others,

Even though you love and respect, people like your friends and your mother.

Know that it will be okay to differ with them;

If you decide their way is not your way, you can still be friends.
 

Everyone must be able to choose what is right for themselves,

Without having to worry about whether they can still be someone's "pal."
 

Learn to celebrate diversity, and differences too.

Don't think of them first as threatening, as many people do.
 

Skin color, politics, orientation of affinity;

Judge the person first; not what you may have heard from many.
 

Accept and embrace, the differences in others.

Know that it makes life more interesting, and we can still respect each other.
 

There's so much of life to live; so much to do, see and experience;

Don't lock yourself up in a cage, and let your one go round be deleterious.
 

What you stand to gain, by deciding things on your own

Is new experiences, openness, and an appreciation for being grown.
 

Education is about learning, and learning can happen anywhere.

Though you have left college, you'll never stop learning, if you do as I say,

I swear.




© 1992 Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander, Esq.

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@.uga.edu
Comes the Dawn

 
 

After a while you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning

And company doesn't mean security,

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts

And presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open,

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads

on today because tomorrow's ground

Is too uncertain for plans, and futures have

A way of falling down in midflight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine

Burns if you get too much,

So you plant your own garden and decorate

Your own soul, instead of waiting

For someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really do have worth.

And you learn and learn...

With every goodbye you learn.

By: Veronica Shofstall

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Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander
 

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We Are More Alike Than We Are Unalike
 
It is time for the preachers, the rabbis, the priests, and the pundits and the professors to believe in the awesome wonder of diversity so that they can teach those who follow them. It is time for parents to teach young people early on that in diversity there is beauty and there is strength. We all should know that diversity makes for a rich tapestry and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value, no matter their color; equal in importance no matter their texture. Our young must be taught that racial peculiarities do exist, but that beneath the skin, beyond the differing features and into the true heart of being, fundamentally, we are more alike my friend, than we are unalike.
Mirror twins are different,
Although their features jibe.
And lovers think quite different thoughts
While lying side by side.
We love and lose in China;
We weep on England's moors.
We laugh and moan in Guinea
And thrive on Spanish shores.
We seek success in Finland;
Are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ.
In major, we're the same.
I note the obvious differences
Between each sort and type,
But we are more alike, my friends
Than we are unalike.
We are more alike, my friends,
Than we are unalike.
By: Maya Angelou
Wouldn't Take Nothing for my Journey Now




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The Chase
The wind told the little leaves to hurry,
And chased them down the way,
While the mother tree lauged loud in glee,
For she thought her babes at play.
The cruel wind and the rain laughed loudly,
We'll bury them deep, they said,
And the old tree grieves, and the little leaves
Lie low, all chilled and dead.
By: Paul Laurence Dunbar




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Lea/o/ving
Sweetie Jenniffer:
I thought for weeks of what to say,
To a daughter who is maturing and growing away.
This time is so special; a passage of sorts,
But I feel our time together has been so very short.
Before you were born, I planned for the day
By making you quilts, baby clothes, and things with which to play.
From the time you were born and they placed you on my tummy,
I have always been proud to say I was your Mama.
I knitted you sweaters, and made you quilts,
Where each stitch was made with love, not done out of guilt.
I baked you cookies and stitched dolls and their dresses,
Made clothes for you, and braided your tresses.
I taught you life lessons and to my surprise you listened well.
It is such a feeling of accomplishment to be able to tell.
"You must be a strong black woman," I've said since you were a tot.
I thought you weren't listening, but true that was not.
I can see it now; you're developing that strength.
It will be tested time and time again, at length.
The best I could do is give you the confidence to endure it;
To know and love who you are, even though others abhor it.
I've watched you grow,
And come into your own;
From that rather quiet, shy little girl I knew
To nearly a woman, full grown.
Don't forget your ancestors before you,
Because they cleared the way,
For whatever it is you are
And accomplish today.
Make them and God a part of your life every day,
Even if it seems to be in only a small way.
Have courage of conviction, open-mindedness too.
Don't ever think you're better than others, or that they are better than you.
You're bright, creative, sensitive and funny,
A deep thinker, caring, strong and sunny,
Intelligent, insightful, and very silly too;
Which is exactly what you should be at this time, not blue.
My wish for you is that you be happy and strong,
Confident and caring, so that you will carry on
The legacy of the strong black women before you--but have fun too,
And make the world a better place, like I know you can and will do.
I love you for the wonderful creature that you are.
I have no doubt whatsoever that you'll go very far.
Love,
Mama
By: Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander, Esq.
copyright 1994, Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander. All rights reserved.




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We Wear The Mask
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
By: Paul Laurence Dunbar


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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 

Dream Big

If there were ever a time to dare,

to make a difference,

to embark on something worth doing,

it is now.

Not for any grand cause, necessarily--

but for something that tugs at your heart,

something that's your aspiration,

something that's your dream.

You owe it to yourself

to make your days here count.

Have fun.

Dig deep.

Stretch.

Dream big.

Know, though, that things worth doing

seldom come easy.

There will be good days.

And there will be bad days.

There will be times when you want to turn around,

pack it up,

and call it quits.

Those times tell you

that you are pushing yourself,

that you are not afraid to learn by trying.

Persist.

Because with an idea,

determination,

and the right tools,

you can do great things.

Let your instincts,

your intellect,

and your heart

guide you.

Trust.

Believe in the incredible power of the human mind.

Of doing something that makes a difference.

Of working hard.

Of laughing and hoping.

Of lazy afternoons.

Of lasting friends.

Of all the things that will cross your path this year.

The start of something new

brings the hope of something great.

Anything is possible.

There is only one you.

And you will pass this way only once.

Do it right.

By: Unknown Author.

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 
 

Hang Tough

Press on.

Nothing in the world

Can take the place of persistence.

Talent will not;

Nothing is more common

Than unsuccessful men

With talent.

Genius will not;

Unrewarded genius

Is almost a proverb.

Education will not;

The world is full of

Educated derelicts.

Persistence and determination

Alone are important.

By: Calvin Coolidge

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 

Laugh and the World Laughs With You

Laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and you weep alone,

For this brave old earth must borrow its mirth; it has troubles enough of its own.

Sing and the hills will answer, sigh, it is lost on the air!

The echoes bound to a joyful sound, but shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice and men will seek you, grieve and they turn and go,

They want full measure of all your pleasure, but they do not want your woe.

Be glad and your friends are many, be sad and you lose them all,

There are none to decline your nectar'd wine, but alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast and your halls are crowded, fast and the world goes by,

Succeed and give and it helps you live, but no man can help you die;

There is room in the halls of pleasure for a long and lordly train,

But one by one we must file on through the narrow aisles of pain.

By: Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
 

If You're Ever Going to Love Me

If you're ever going to love me love me now, while I can know

All the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow.

Love me now, while I am living; do not wait till I am gone

And then chisel it in marble--warm love words on ice-cold stone.

If you've dear, sweet thoughts about me, why not whisper them to me?

Don't you know 'twould make me happy and as glad as glad can be?

If you wait till I am sleeping, ne'er to waken here again,

There'll be walls of earth between us and I couldn't hear you then.

If you knew someone was thirsting for a drop of water sweet

Would you be so slow to bring it? Would you step with laggard feet?

There are tender hearts all round us who are thirsting for our love;

Why withhold from them what nature makes them crave all else above?

I won't need your kind caresses when the grass grows o'er my face;

I won't crave your love or kisses in my last low resting place.

So, then, if you love me any, if it's but a little bit,

Let me know it while living; I can own and treasure it.

By: Anonymous

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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
I Miss You Mother
The final curtain falls
Never to rise again
Now to see your face
I must look within
(I ALWAYS WILL)
You were my foundation-
A shelter when it was storming.
Then suddenly you were gone
Without the slightest warning.
Memories...they have no substance-
They could never take your place.
Yet they must suffice
When I long for your embrace.
Oh mother, if only you had written (!)...
Words to somehow let me know...
What drove you to such desperation(?),
Or why you felt you had to go.
I thought you would always be there-
Our love seemed so certain,
But then you hid yourself
Behind death's forbidden curtain.
And I was left behind-
A confused little girl
Trying desperately to make sense
Of what had become a senseless world.
Yet love is the eternal survivor-
Something even death can't kill
And though you refused to live,
My love for you always will.
By: Samuel P. DeLoach



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The Lie
Today, you threaten to leave me.
I hold curses, in my mouth,
which could flood your path, sear
bottomless chasms in your road.
I keep, behind my lips,
invectives capable of tearing
the septum from your
nostrils and the skin from your back.
Tears, copious as a spring rain,
are checked in ducts
and screams are crowded in a corner
of my throat.
You are leaving?
Aloud, I say:
I'll help you pack, but it's getting late,
I have to hurry or miss my date.
When I return, I know you'll be gone.
Do drop a line or telephone.
By: Maya Angelou



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DAD
Why did you leave? Why did you go?
So much left undone--a wife and two kids
left alone in a world of pain.
You drove against your will that night.
Your wife begged you to stay there,
but other influences convinced you to go.
The liquor took your life, as well as a part of mine.
I knew you a little; the memories are few.
What I remember is that you were a wonderful man,
bringing joy to the hearts of your family and friends.
Why did you drive? Why?
I wonder how things would be if you were still here.
Where would I be? Who would I be?
Would things be different?
I am thankful for the time I had with you,
yet I feel robbed for the years that were missed.
I look at pictures and that Eisenhower silver dollar.
I can feel you here with me, sitting at my side,
feeling the same pain and sense of loss.
I miss you! Why did you have to drive?
There is an empty place in my heart--where memories of you should be.
It is not your fault--I don't blame you. The liquor had its effects!
I just wish you had listened--not to your clients,
but to your wife and your heart.
Maybe things would be different.
One day we will be together again,
Father and son, Father and son.
I miss you, constantly reminded of you.
There is one thing I promise you,
I won't make the same mistake you did.
I won't drive!
By: a student who lost his father at the age of 4, who wishes to remain anonymous.




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A Brave And Startling Truth

When we come to it

We, this people, on this wayward, floating body

Created on this earth,

of this earth

have the power to fashion for this earth

A climate where every man and every woman

Can live freely without sanctimonious piety

Without crippling fear.

When we come to it

We must confess that we are the possible

We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world

That is, when and only when,

We come to it.

By: Maya Angelou for the 50th annivesary of the United Nations, 1996.

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What have You Done Today?

We shall do so much in the years to come,

But what have we done today?

We shall give our gold in a princely sum.

But what did we give today?

We shall lift the heart and dry the tear,

We shall plant a hope in the place of fear,

We shall speak the words of love and cheer,

But what did we speak today?

We shall be so kind in the afterwhile,

But what have we been today?

We shall bring each lonely life a smile,

But what have we brought today?

We shall give to truth a grander birth,

And to steadfast faith a deeper worth,

We shall feed the hungering souls of earth,

But whom have we fed today?

We shall reap such joys in the by and by,

But what have we sown today?

We shall build us mansions in the sky,

But what have we built today?

'Tis sweet in idle dreams to bask,

But here and now, do we do our tasks?

Yes, this is the thing our souls must ask,

"What have we done today?"

By: Nixon Waterman

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Class Ring

Close by the doorway

he paused to stand

as he took his class ring

from her hand.

All who were watching

did not speak

as a lonely tear

ran down his cheek.

On his mind

the memories ran

of the moments they laughed

in the sun and sand.

Now her eyes

were very cold.

He will never again

have her hand to hold.

They watched in awe

as he bent near and whispered softly

"I Love You" in her ear.

With the ring on his finger

he kissed her good-bye,

remembering she wore it, he began to cry.

And the wind begain to blow

as they carried her casket

out into the snow.

By: Ed Boring; given to me by a student

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Sonnet 23
When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends posses'd
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thought myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the Lark at break of day arising)
From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with Kings.
By: William Shakespeare


 

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Dr. B-A’s Daily Poem Page                                    dawndba@uga.edu
 
 
Love Like An Ocean
It can be smooth and peaceful, but sometimes interrupted by periods of rough and uncontrolled phenomena.
Depth depends on one's desire to venture and his expectations of what he will find.
The more you learn and understand, the more you will love and appreciate it.
It may be scary and frightening sometimes, but I would rather leave myself vulnerable and risk the danger than pass up the happiness and joy that it may bring.
Like love, the deeper you go, the more fascinating it will be.
By: Daryl Paul Gaitan, an ex-student of mine.


 

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Fairytales and Fantasies
Fairytales and fantasies
The princess--it was always her
The ending happy ever after
Could there be any other?
If ever there was peril
If the dragon dared raise its head
Prince Charming would quickly arrive,
Leave the foul beast dead.
There were a thousand worlds to conquer
In her land of dreams
Then suddenly reality came along
How different the real world seems.
She looks out the window
Another night at home
Her friends are out on dates
Still, she's not alone.
She recalls as a little girl
Playing house was so much fun.
Her husband would be rich and famous
Now she'd settle for an ordinary one.
And how she loved her dolls
A happier pastime could not be found
Ken in his black tuxedo
Barbie in a white dinner gown.
There were also the baby dolls
One named Sam, another Kay
it wasn't very long ago
That she had to put them away.
Anyway, at sixteen years of age
She's too old for such foolish things
In many ways she's a woman
Having fed the hunger which maturity brings.
For the pressures to succumb
Were more than she could bear
Touching that which was once forbidden
left her dreams scattered everywhere.
For a moment she fantasizes, what if,
Suddenly her doll begins to cry
She reaches down and picks up
That which caused her dreams to die.
By: Samuel P. DeLoach

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Leisure
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 not ime to stand and stare.
By: William Henry Davies


 

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Stopping By the Woods on A Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if ther is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
By: Robert Frost



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Highflight
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sunsplit clouds--and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of--wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting winds along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
By: Lt. John Gillespie Magee



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If
If life were but a dream, my Love,
And Death the waking time;
If day had not a beam, my Love,
And night had not a rhyme,--
A barren, barren world were this
Without one saving gleam;
I'd only ask that with a kiss
You'd wake me from the dream.
If dreaming were the sum of days,
And loving were the bane;
If battling for a wreath of bays
Could soothe a heart in pain,--
I'd scorn the meed of battle's might,
All other aims above
I'd choose the human's higher right,
To suffer and to love!
By: Paul Laurence Dunbar




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Passing the Test
To everyone a gift is given and a problem set.
There's a mission to fulfill, and a challenge to be met...
A special work to carry out that no one else can do--
A task to be accomplished, and to this we must be true.
Do not envy anyone because they seem to be--
Lucky, happy, and content, from care and worry free...
Everybody is on trial in their appointed sphere-
A smiling face may mask and ugly scar, a secret fear.
Covet nothing, envy none, for all have things to bear
Everything is balanced, God is good and life is fair...
Who has had the worst of it and who has had the best--
None can say, for each must pass his individual test.
By: Patience Strong




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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu
The Prayer of Faith
God is my help in every need;
God does my every hunger feed
God walks beside me, guides my way
Through every moment of the day.
I now am wise, I now am true;
Patient, kind, and loving too,
All things I am, can do, and be,
Through Christ, the Truth that is in me.
God is my health, I can't be sick;
God is my strength, unfailing quick;
God is my all, I know no fear,
Since God and Love and Truth are here.
By: Hannah More Kohaus


 

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We Met
We met--'twas in a crowd--and I thought he would shun me;
He came--I could not breathe, for his eye was upon me;
He spoke--his words were cold, and his smile was unaltered;
I knew how much he felt, for his deep-toned voice falter'd.
I wore my bridal robe, and I rivall'd its whiteness;
Bright gems were in my hair, how I hated their brightness!
He called me by my name, as the bride of another--
Oh, thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my mother!
And once again we met, and a fair girl was near him;
He smiled, and whispered low--as I once used to hear him.
She leant upon his arm--once t'was mine, and mine only--
I wept, for I deserved to feel wretched and lonely.
And she will be his bride! at the alter he'll give her
The love that was too pure for a heartless deceiver/
The world may think me gay, for my feelings I smother--
Oh, thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my mother!
By: Thomas Haynes Bayly



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Waiting at the Window
These are my two drops of rain
Waiting on the window-pane.
I am waiting here to see
Which the winning one will be.
Both of them have different names.
One is John and one is James.
All the best and all the worst
Comes from which of them is first.
James has just begun to ooze.
He's the one I want to lose.
John is waiting to begin.
He's the one I want to win.
James is going slowly on.
Something sort of sticks to John.
John is moving off at last.
James is going pretty fast.
John is rushing down the pane.
James is going slow again.
James has met a sort of smear.
John is getting very near.
Is he going fast enough?
(James has found a piece of fluff.)
John has hurried quickly by.
(James was talking to a fly.)
John is there, and John has won!
Look! I told you! Here's the sun!
By: A. A. Milne

 

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Make Your Mark
In the quarries should you toil,
Make your mark;
Do you delve upon the soil,
Make your mark;
In whatever path you go,
In whatever place you stand
Moving swift or moving slow,
With a firm and honest hand,
Make your mark.
Should opponents hedge your way,
Make your mark;
Work by night or work by day,
Make your mark;
Struggle manfully and well,
Let no obstacles oppose;
None, right-shielded, ever fell
By the weapons of his foes;
Make your mark.
What though born a peasant's son;
Make your mark;
Good by poor men can be done;
Make your mark;
Peasants' garbs may warm the cold,
Peasants' words may calm a fear;
Better far than hoarding gold
Is the drying of a tear;
Make your mark.
Life is fleeting as a shade;
Make your mark;
Marks of some kind must be made;
Make your mark;
Make it while the arm is strong,
In the golden hour of youth;
Never, never, make it wrong;
Make it with the stamp of truth;
Make your mark.
By: David Barker



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The Last Rose of Summer
'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud, is nigh
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh!
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one.
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from love's shining circle
The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie withered,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?
By: Thomas Moore



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Do The Right Thing
The rule of life is to be found within yourself.
Ask yourself constantly, "What is the right thing to do?"
Beware of ever doing that which you are likely, sooner or later, to repent of having done.
It is better to live in peace than in bitterness and strife.
It is better to believe in your neighbors than to fear and distrust them.
The superior person does not wrangle. He is firm, but not quarrelsome.
He is sociable but not clannish.
The superior man sets a good example to his neighbors.
He is considerate of their feelings and their property.
Consideration for others is the basis of a good life, a good society.
Feel kindly towards everyone. Be friendly and pleasant among yourselves.
Be generous and fair.
By: Confucius



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Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
By: William Ernest Henley



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The Road Not Taken
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.
By: Robert Frost



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Disappointed
An old man planted and dug and tended,
Toiling in joy from dew to dew;
The sun was kind, and the rain befriended;
Fine grew his orchard and fair to view.
Then he said: "I will quiet my thrifty fears,
For here is fruit for my failing years."
But even then the storm-clouds gathered,
Swallowing up the azure sky;
The sweeping winds into white form lathered
The placid breast of the bay, hard by;
Then the spirits that raged in the darkened air
Swept o'er his orchard and left it bare.
The old man stood in the rain, uncaring,
Viewing the place the storm had swept;
And then with a cry from his soul despairing,
He bowed him down to the earth and wept.
But a voice cried aloud from the driving rain;
"Arise old man, and plant again!"
By: Paul Laurence Dunbar




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Cheryl
Cheryl was everyone's friend,
what a broken heart we have to mend.
Cheryl was only eleven,
we all hope that she is in heaven.
Cheryl will watch over us from a cloud,
watching us as we cry out loud.
Cheryl's death made us sad,
but someday these thoughts will pass.
Cheryl was a friend to all,
sometimes I think I see her walking down the hall.
But there is nothing really there,
except the memories of Cheryl that we all will share.
By: Valerie R. Doubilet, in memory of her friend, Cheryl A. Wilburn, who took her car while her mother was asleep and drove it on a rainy night. Cheryl died when the car ran into a tree. Valerie said nothing at all about the death, until days later when she brought forth this poem.



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Dr. B-A's Daily Poem Page                                                                                     dawndba@uga.edu

Caged Bird
 

A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind

and floats downstream

till the current ends

and dips his wing

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn

and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadows shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

By: Maya Angelou

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What I Want You to Know
More than anything,
I want you to know
That life and living
Is all to grow.
You'll appreciate life more
And learn more too,
If you open yourself up
To things that are new.
Live life on YOUR terms,
NOT the terms of others,
Even though you love and respect
People like your father and mother
Know that it'll be ok
to differ with them.
If you decide their way is not your way
You can still be friends.
Everyone has a right to choose
What's right for themselves
Without having to worry and sweat
About whether they'll still be someone's pal.
Learn to celebrate diversity
And differences too.
Don't think of them first as threatening
As many people do.
Accept and embrace
The differences in others
Know that it makes life more interesting
And we can still feel like sisters and brothers.
Skin color, politics
Orientation of affinity,
Judge the PERSON first,
NOT what you may have heard from many.
There's so much of life to live,
so much to do, see and experience,
Don't lock yourself in a cage
And have your one go round be deleterious.
What you stand to gain,
By deciding things on your own
Is new experiences, openness
And an appreciation for being grown.
Education is about learning
And learning can happen anywhere.
Though you've left college, you'll never stop learning
If you do as I say, I swear.
By: Dawn D. Bennett-Alexander


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The Phantom Kiss

 

One night in my room, still and beamless,

With will and with thought in eclipse,

I rested in sleep that was dreamless;

When softly there fell on my lips
 

A touch, as of lips that were pressing

Mine own with the message of bliss--

A sudden, soft, fleeting caressing,

A breath like a maiden's first kiss.
 

I woke--and the scoffer may doubt me--

I peered in surprise through the gloom;

But nothing and none were about me,

And I was alone in my room.
 

Perhaps 'twas the wind that caressed me

And touched me with dew-laden breath;

Or, maybe, close-sweeping, there passed me

The low-winging Angel of Death.
 

Some sceptic may choose to disdain it,

Or one feign to read aright;

Or wisdom may seek to explain it--

This mystical kiss in the night.
 

But rather let fancy thus clear it:

That, thinking of me here alone,

The miles were made naught, and, in spirit,

Thy lips, love, were laid on my own.

 

By: Paul Laurence Dunbar




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Attitude
 
The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts.
It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do.
It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill.
It will make or break a company...a church...a home...or a person.
The remarkable thing is, you have a choice every day regarding the attitude you will embrace for that day.
We cannot change our past...
We cannot change the fact that people will act a certain way.
We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.
I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me, and 90% how I react to it.
And so it is with you...
You are in charge of your attitude.
By: Anonymous

 

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Let Me Be Your Friend
Take a walk with me
Let me show you where I've been
You can tell me where you're going
You can let me be your friend
Nobody wants to walk alone
Not even in stormy weather
But if you let me be your friend
We can always walk together
Don't worry about falling off
I'll be there to hold your hand
Never think you'll be misunderstood
'Cause I'll always try to understand
I will never let you down
I will never run away
and if you ever want to leave me
I will always try to make you stay
But if you decide to leave me
You may forever return again
I will always be there waiting
I will always be your friend.
By: Anonymous



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From Father to Son...
A father once told his carefree son,
"The world does not consist only in fun.
You have to look twice before you leap,
For in life, you sow and you reap.
Whichever path a man chooses,
Is never ever a bed of roses.
Lead a life of goodness and be kind,
Or else, a guilty conscience will prick thy mind.
Don't ignore my words to be monotonous speech,
And never make promises you cannot keep.
For, before I step into my grave,
Let every man for a son like you to crave.
Let you stand out in every crowd,
Make me as a father very proud.
I hope at least I've given you a clue,
To have God's grace you have to be true.
My loving son so young and sweet,
Grow up and give your Papa a treat.
And when you're grown to be a man like me,
A pretty young lass will marry thee.
Till then keep all the girls at bay,
And work hard for the success of each new day."
By: Rekha Kamath, 1995




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Dawn
An angel robed in spotless white
Bent down to kiss the sleeping night.
Night woke to blush, and sprite was gone.
Men saw the blush, and called it Dawn.
By: Paul Laurence Dunbar




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Fuzzy
Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear.
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy, was he?
By: Unknown

 

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A Child's Poem
I wondered as I wandered to school
Along dirty, gray and noisy streets
One eye on people, another on autos.
I wondered is this my life to be?
Is this street the only world for me?
Or just a step to a different place
Where my hopes and dreams come true.
By: Author Unknown




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Your Children
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you, they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite.
And He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hands be for happiness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
So He loves the bow that is stable.
By: Kahlil Gibran



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No Thank You
No I do not want a kitten,
No cute, cuddly kitty-poo,
No more long hair in my  cornflakes,
No more midnight meowing mews,
No more scratchin', snarlin', spitters
No more sofas clawed to shreds,
No more smell of kitty litter,
No more mousies in my bed.
No, I will not take that kitten--
I've had lice and I've had fleas,
I've been scratched and sprayed and bitten,
I've developed allergies.
If you've got an ape, I'll take him,
If you have a lion, that's fine,
If you brought some walking bacon,
Leave him, here, I'll treat him kind.
I have room for mice and gerbils,
I have beds for boars and bats,
But please, please take away that kitten--
Quick--'fore it becomes a cat.
Well...it is kind of cute at that.
by Shel Silverstein

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You Never Know
 

You never know when someone
May catch a dream from you.
You never know when a little word
Or something you may do
May open up the windows
Of a mind that seeks the light-
The way you live may not matter at all,
But you never know -- it might.

And just in case it could be
That another's life, through you,
Might possibly change for the better
With a broader and brighter view,
It seems it might be worth a try
At pointing the way to the right -
Of course, it may not matter at all,
But then again -- it might.

 

By: Helen Lowrie Marshall

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