Life is Golden
©2010 Susan Noyes Anderson (poem only)
Are we condemned to take our lives for granted?
Must loss be felt (or feared) before the joy?
Does gratitude grow stale when goodness gathers,
when all is well with every girl and boy?
I hope you will enjoy this collection of my personal hope poems. Writing them brought me joy, and maybe they will do the same for you. Hope poems offer motivation when we’re down, inspiration when we’re stuck in neutral, and validation when we’re on top of the world. Hope really is that “thing with feathers on.” It is my hope that readers will fly through this collection on silver wings and soar to new heights. Or at the very least, feel like maybe good things are possible.
FINDING THE POEM YOU WANT: As you scroll through this section, simply read each snippet sample (usually the first four lines) to get a feel for the poem. When you find something you like, click “CONTINUE READING” to view the entire poem.
(My work may be used free for non-commercial purposes only. Please request permission by email and include full copyright information, legibly printed, on every copy made. For internet use, a link back to the poem on this website is required.)
Are we condemned to take our lives for granted?
Must loss be felt (or feared) before the joy?
Does gratitude grow stale when goodness gathers,
when all is well with every girl and boy?
When wintry winds and stormy seas
Make all the world seem bleak,
When hope is difficult to find
And peace is hard to seek,
Though troubles come and troubles go
amidst this life of joy and tears,
while things we love and things we know
are sometimes lost to grief or fears;
Though some have more and some have less
All have the gifts that He imparts
His children will find happiness
Not in belongings they possess
But in the longings of their hearts
Though some have more and some have less
The sun will rise each day, and night will fall.
We here can only wait, and watch, and see.
It is not ours to tamper with the flow
Of nature, nor mistrust her majesty.
Beauty cannot enter where we do not leave a friendly space.
Poems began as empty pages, masterpieces as a trace.
Every note must stand alone before it makes a lullaby.
Every tree has greater stature viewed against a naked sky.
I thought I walked this earth alone,
beneath my burdens bowed,
until I found I could not bear
their weight and cried aloud.
Sometimes I’d like to be
the type
who lives my life
without a backward glance––
and I would dance
through days
unburdened, fancy-free.