Onward, up, and down again.
playing a game that none can win.
Strike the hammer, And feed the flame,
Brush the feather to sign my name.
Life goes by so cold and bare,
We fill it with warmth and possessions rare.
Giving to God in hopes of cure,
What we get in return, no one is sure.
Woman so fine, beauty so deep,
Promising life and worryless sleep.
But, you don't look and others could none,
tire a man like the rising sun.
Chaarzarul Rockett's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Untitled by Chaarzarul Rockett )
- Alesha the Cat, Steve Kittell
- Heart Broke, Vijaya mam
- Perhaps I'll See You, Abu Tammam
- A Back Seat, Elia Michael
- Love shall stand, hasmukh amathalal
- Female Author, Sylvia Plath
- Dirge For A Joker, Sylvia Plath
- The Babysitters, Sylvia Plath
- The Beekeeper's Daughter, Sylvia Plath
- Bluebeard, Sylvia Plath
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- At Last She Comes, Robert Louis Stevenson
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Heather Burns
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)