Youth Poems
A Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man
by James Joyce
Are you not weary of ardent ways,
Lure of the fallen seraphim?
Tell no more of enchanted days.
Your eyes have set man's heart ablaze
And you have had your will of him.
Are you not weary of ardent ways?
Above the flame the smoke of praise
Goes up from ocean rim to rim.
......
The Passing of Time
by Seyi Ojenike
The passing of time is a curious thing,
It ebbs and flows like a restless sea,
And yet, it moves us forward, like a king.
In youth, we long for the days of spring,
When life is new and our hearts are free,
The passing of time is a curious thing.
As we grow older, we spread our wings,
And set out on paths we long to see,
......
Addiction
by Sumit Maurya
We were running and we were safe,
We were high but well behaved
Positive souls by all that mean,
Driving cool in a fast machine
Then something happened,
We blacked out
We stuck in the dark,
Could not shout
It's the car wrack,
That we couldn't move
......
A Multitude of Woes
by Carl Halling
Yes, there was a time
I was obsessed by melancholy,
I saw deep sadness,
The quality that so tormented
My former favoured idols,
Poets, painters,
Musicians, actors,
Creators of every kind,
As glamorous and romantic,
But it’s not,
......
My Name Is Horace
by Randy Johnson
In 1987, he starred in a movie that was called 'The Monster Squad'.
At a very young age, he died and went to Heaven to be with God.
Two other movies that he starred in were 'Home Free' and 'Dance 'Til Dawn'.
When he died of Pneumonia in 1987, it was hard to believe that he was gone.
He abandoned his acting career to study law before dying at the age of 22.
To die at such a young age is unfair and ridiculous, and that certainly is true.
[Dedicated to Brent Chalem (1975-1997) who died on December 9, 1997.]
Het dorp dat mij baarde
by Mario Odekerken
Het dorp dat mij baarde
had aarde onder de nagels
en stilte tussen de muren.
De wind kende er mijn naam,
voor ik zelf woorden had.
Ik groeide tussen mensen
die niet veel zeiden,
maar alles wisten.
Hun blikken waren vol geschiedenis,
......
Kinderjaren
by Mario Odekerken
De dagelijkse zorgen van het leven
zorgvuldig verborgen op een plek onvindbaar,
alsof ze nooit bestonden,
alsof niets zwaars ons kon raken.
Een tijd van overgave aan ongekende fantasie,
waar elke doos een schip was
en elke schaduw een verhaal.
Ja,argeloos en zonder repliek
......
Childhood years
by Mario Odekerken
The daily worries of life
carefully hidden in a place unreachable,
as if they never existed,
as if nothing heavy could touch us.
A time of surrender to unknown fantasies,
where every box was a ship
and every shadow story.
Yes,carefree and without reply,
......
Kinderjahre
by Mario Odekerken
Die täglichen Sorgen des Lebens
sorgfältig verborgen an einem
unauffindbaren Ort,
als hätten sie nie existiert,
als könnte uns nichts Schweres berühren.
Eine Zeit der Hingabe an unbekannte Fantasien,
in der jede Kiste ein Schiff war
und jeder Schatten eine Geschichte erzählte.
......
Climbin' Tree
by Joe Cyr
In New England, years ago when boys were free,
outdoor thrills included the climbin’ tree.
Good climbin’ trees were pretty hard to find;
and other’s trees weren’t as good as mine.
Branches low enough for a lad to grab;
swing a leg up and around; twist a dab,
settle back, astride, facing outwardly;
Hold on; stand up; look ‘round; you’re in the tree.
Some trees were branched for an easy climb,
......
