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"Can't" by Edgar A. Guest

Can't is the worst word that's written or spoken; Doing more harm here than slander and lies; On it is many a strong spirit broken, And with it many a good purpose dies. It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning And robs us of courage we need through the day: It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning And laughs when we falter and fall by the way. Can't is the father of feeble endeavor, The parent of terror and half-hearted work; It weakens the efforts of artisans clever, And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk. It poisons the soul of the man with a vision, It stifles in infancy many a plan; It greets honest toiling with open derision And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man. Can't is a word none should speak without blushing; To utter it should be a symbol of shame; Ambition and courage it daily is crushing; It blights a man's purpose and shortens his aim. Despise it with all of your hatred of error; Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in yo...
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"Be The Best Of Whatever You Are" by Douglas Malloch

If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill, Be a scrub in the valley — but be The best little scrub by the side of the rill; Be a bush if you can't be a tree. If you can't be a bush be a bit of the grass, And some highway happier make; If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass — But the liveliest bass in the lake! We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew, There's something for all of us here, There's big work to do, and there's lesser to do, And the task you must do is the near. If you can't be a highway then just be a trail, If you can't be the sun be a star; It isn't by size that you win or you fail — Be the best of whatever you are! If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!
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(Poetry Submissions): "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley

 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 punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate,       I am the captain of my soul. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!
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"It Couldn't Be Done" by Edgar A. Guest

 Somebody said that it couldn’t be done       But he with a chuckle replied That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one       Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried. So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin       On his face. If he worried he hid it. He started to sing as he tackled the thing       That couldn’t be done, and he did it! Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;       At least no one ever has done it;” But he took off his coat and he took off his hat       And the first thing we knew he’d begun it. With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,       Without any doubting or quiddit, He started to sing as he tackled the thing       That couldn’t be done, and he did it. There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,       There are thousands to prophesy failure, There are thousands to point out to you one by one,   ...
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(Poetry Submission) "Summer Song" by William Carlos Williams

Wanderer moon smiling a faintly ironical smile at this brilliant, dew-moistened summer morning,— a detached sleepily indifferent smile, a wanderer’s smile,— if I should buy a shirt your color and put on a necktie sky-blue where would they carry me?  If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!
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(Poetry Submission) "On the Pulse of Morning" by Maya Angelou

 A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed,    Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried tokens    Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their hastening doom    Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,    Come, you may stand upon my Back and face your distant destiny, But seek no haven in my shadow, I will give you no hiding place down here. You, created only a little lower than The angels, have crouched too long in    The bruising darkness Have lain too long Facedown in ignorance, Your mouths spilling words Armed for slaughter. The Rock cries out to us today,    You may stand upon me,    But do not hide your face. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!
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"Dreams" by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams  For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!
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