It’s not the words we speak or sounds we share, But something deeper, soft and rare. Not in phrases, not in lines, But in the spaces where the heart inclines.
True understanding blooms unseen, In glances felt, in moments serene. For language fades, it slips and breaks, Yet feeling stays, and truth it makes.
It’s not in accents, nor in tone, But in the warmth that’s softly grown, Between two souls, in silent grace, In love’s own quiet, sacred place.
So let us share beyond what’s heard, In feelings felt, not merely words. For only hearts that feel as one Will understand when speech is done.
The greatness of a man, it’s not wealth or gold, Not treasures amassed or fortunes bold. But in the quiet strength he shows, In the seeds of kindness that he sows.
It’s in his integrity, firm and bright, A guiding star through the darkest night. In words he speaks that ring with truth, In wisdom shared with age and youth.
He leaves a mark on hearts, not things, A legacy that compassion brings. For riches fade, and fame grows dim, But lives are changed because of him.
The measure of greatness is simple and clear, In love that lingers year after year. So may we seek not wealth or pride, But honor that will long abide.
Created by MarkWaldrop
"The greatness of a man is not in how much wealth he acquires, but in his integrity and his ability to affect those around him positively. " Bob Marley
You can’t love your country only when you win, True patriotism roots much deeper within. It’s holding fast through the thick and thin, Through struggle and loss, through virtue and sin.
You can’t love your neighbors only when you agree, When beliefs divide like a raging sea. Love bridges gaps that words may not mend, Reminding us all we’re kin, friend to friend.
In triumph or failure, in light or in shade, The strength of true love never will fade. For nations are built not on ease or consent, But on unity forged from hearts unbent.
So stand by your country, your kin, your creed, With love in the hard times—the times of true need. For the greatest of honors, the noblest grace, Is to love without judgment, to hold with embrace.
Heaven is just a bark away, A wagging tail, a joyful play. Where paws leave prints in stardust skies, And loving gazes never die.
A place where fetch goes on for miles, And every day brings endless smiles. A land where treats fall like the rain, And old aches vanish, leaving no pain.
The fields are wide, the rivers clear, With friends we’ve lost, now waiting here. They run, they leap, they chase the day— For heaven is just a bark away.
And though our hearts may ache with grief, In memories, we find relief. For love like theirs can never part, It stays forever in our heart.
So when the night is calm and still, I feel a warmth, a gentle thrill, A whisper soft, from skies so gray Heaven is just a bark away.
I’m not a bad person; I just lost my way, Led by shadows where I meant to stray. I stumbled along with the wrong crowd’s call, Not knowing I’d trip, not meaning to fall.
I was searching for somewhere to belong, But the voices I followed led me wrong. In moments of weakness, I made my choice, Silencing reason, ignoring my voice.
But deep within, I still know who I am, Not the broken shell or the misplaced plan. I’ve learned from the dark, I’ve found the light, And I’m standing now, ready to make things right.
Mistakes don’t define me, they’re not my name; They’re echoes of lessons, not badges of shame. I’m more than my missteps, more than my past— A heart that is healing, a spirit steadfast.
So judge me not by where I’ve been, But see where I’m going, what lies within. For I’m not a bad person, I just lost my way, And I’m finding myself with each new day.
An old tractor abandoned in the prairie, Left to rust where the fields grow weary. Nature claimed it in her quiet way, Her roots and vines where engines lay.
Its paint now faded, metal worn thin, With bark and trunk rooted deep within. Too stubborn to move, too proud to break, Bound by the roots no force could shake.
Once a tool for hands now still, Held in the earth’s unmoving will. A relic of toil, left as it stands— Steel and wood, held in nature’s hands.
