What is happiness poem

Each paddle stroke follows the curve from reach to loss. Ah, ah calls the sun from a fishing boat with a pale, yellow sail. We fly by on our return, over the net of eternity thrown out for stars. Happiness Is falling asleep without Valium, And having two breasts to put in my brassiere, And not yet needing to get my blood pressure lowered, my eyelids raised or a second opinion.

In this piece, performance poet Bridget Minamore explores the joy inspired by a champion. Some men become what they were born for. Sometimes our best efforts do not go amiss, sometimes we do as we meant to. The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you. I kind of exploded inside, and joy shot out of me.

I began my roll down the grassy hill. I bent my knees up small, took a deep breath and I was off. My arms shot out sideways. I gathered speed. My eyes squinted. Let every pore absorb light. Swim in the joy of the here and now, And cast off the darkness of night. I found this very true. I recently had a big hit, and I was surprised how just sitting and talking with my friend brought me some healing. Everyone is searching for the missing piece in life. The key to unlock the door and steal back all lost time.

Read Complete Poem. The wind whistles past my ears. Closing my eyes, I lose all my fears. The waves crash into the rocks. Out here there is no time on my clock. Life is full of loud shouts of distractions and contradictions while the sound of focus is but a whisper. Nature, fortunately sings this silent tune of focus to ears that would seek her.

I'll be happy once I've done this certain thing. We all say this often, not realizing what it brings. We look only to the future for our happiness, Letting life slip through our fingers in its fullness. Well thought out expression of a very deep yet communal event given voice in an authentic poetry format.

Deeply set me thinking about my father's recent death. This Old Irish poem was written by a monk in the ninth century — about his cat. Just as the scholar goes in search of knowledge, so his faithful companion goes in search of mice. My mind to me a kingdom is; Such present joys therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That earth affords or grows by kind: Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave …. Edmund Spenser, from Amoretti. In summary, Spenser says that when he wishes to think of higher things, his mind is bogged down by thoughts of mortality; but he comes to the conclusion that the way to ensure happiness is to find heaven among earthly things.

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

For more classic poetry, we also recommend The Oxford Book of English Verse — perhaps the best poetry anthology on the market we offer our pick of the best poetry anthologies here, and list the best books for the poetry student here.

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