Treasure Island

Victoria Gauci

(1960 / Cleveland Ohio)

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This Life Is Hard But I Go On


Through broken glass and faded dreams,
I find a place where I can scream,
This pain is huge and takes me over,
I cannot smell the scent of clover,
I kneel down and count my blessings,
For sometimes life is distressing,
I make my way through each raw minute,
Feeling blessed that I'm still in it,
This life is hard but I go on,
It's my soul journey to walk upon,
I look out from my mind's eye,
Never questioning or asking why,
I know that whatever happens to me,
Is to teach and set me free,
A life taken for granted is not good cause,
Take a breath to think and pause,
I am strong and intelligent,
I know I live with good intent,
The shackles that I once wore,
Can't contain me anymore,
I am free and fly my wings,
Appreciating every thing,
Being true to who I am,
Upon my bravery I do stand.

Submitted: Sunday, January 08, 2012
Edited: Friday, January 13, 2012

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Comments about this poem (This Life Is Hard But I Go On by Victoria Gauci )

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  • Ross Shand (1/29/2014 4:49:00 PM)

    'I kneel down and count my blessings,
    For sometimes life is distressing.'
    Happy as I am, those two lines just made me cringe.
    . (Report) Reply

  • Lyn Paul (1/29/2014 7:54:00 AM)

    So much inspiration in your wonderful words. So so glad I have read these words. Thank you Victoria I hope everyone gets to share this write. (Report) Reply

  • Geetha Jayakumar (1/29/2014 6:53:00 AM)

    Touching poem filled with positivity....Very true said..Upon my bravery I do stand. Thanks for sharing. (Report) Reply

  • Alistair Graham (1/29/2014 3:13:00 AM)

    One among Many


    Who decided, and for what reason
    only one tile should be a picture tile
    Bearing the image of a single flower
    all the others stare barefaced in envy

    Could it be, that this ceramic square
    above the sink is a mistake
    one short of the job perhaps
    Even the adhesive rejects its presence
    trying to force it off from behind

    In the event of it loosing grip and falling
    dashing its pretty face on the hard cold floor
    it would finish up as many rough-edged pieces

    Maybe there is another like it
    hidden within the row of cubicles
    along the wall

    Perhaps the tile does not wish to be different
    longing only to be without charge
    But to wish that it is removed
    is to ask that it be broken (Report) Reply

  • Gajanan Mishra (1/29/2013 1:47:00 AM)

    Upon my bravery I do stand. Very good. I like it.
    I invite you to read my poems and comment. (Report) Reply

  • Kee Thampi (1/8/2012 2:35:00 AM)

    broken memories of lovely world
    Through broken glass and faded dreams,
    I find a place where I can scream,
    This pain is huge and takes me over,
    I cannot smell the scent of clover, (Report) Reply

Read all 9 comments »

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