legacy

Learn more about other poetry terms

Sai My Name ______________   As i lay in the dark only one thing seems to spark  My dreams , My legacy  What will it remain? 
Blood Tanka     How wise is your blood? Insight seeks human access. Blood truth, spilled tea leaves,
Planting seeds is easy when you all you do is watch. It becomes embedded very early that alter to this path you'd  be awash. Later on things seem normal, in the family home .
I planted my legacy inside of you. A tiny pebble of a seed, brittle and bitter from a lifetime of storms. I buried it deep in your soul.
dear sir from dhaka bangladesh i have read your story in the internet   of your father’s land that you inherited when you were only five   and now the river that ran through this
What if dying isn't deathIf when we leave this world… The weight of it is simply off our chest When we take that final breath
When you die, a lot of people believe you go live up in the sky. I think your spirit thrives and lives wherever it wants to arrive.
If but 100 bear witness to the pilot’s jetstream as it cleaves the sky, is his effect then greater than mine? Entire being consumed by cause so grand;
The times of great men are now past, because we are too much exposed now for the leaven of myth and legend to swallow up the horror of what we really are. 
To the roar of applause, I treadFor my inspiration, youFor their memory, them and theyThe ones who push meThey push meTo that place beyond myselfLimits, no moreThat I might reach their hearts
I can't help but think of the moment When my loved ones will be gone, it will be over When I won't have a wall or cover When I lose my final lover
Before, it was like being completely wrapped in darkness’ cold embrace But she was like the hot fires starting to blaze in the abyss She was like the flames of unfaltering power
How would it feel if you put your bloodsweatandtears into advancing the world And no one knew your name No one knew how hard you tried
This is our wrestling mat. It isn’t much to see. Sort of furrowed yet flat. The number of soles it has held has given it a soul.  
The music is blazing. It makes my father smile. We listen to it every day As we drive another mile. My sister writes a stanza. It reminds me of my father.
When I was in the third grade my teacher asked our class to write down one thing we would want to tell the humans of the future.  
Who would I be Without ambition Without hope Without dreams Without goals Would I matter Could I live with not mattering
I learned to write poems on my palms 
Giving a voice to our "History", "Leaders", "Legacy", "The Elderly" and "Advocacy" The Widows Cry LoudCopyright © Vivid Memories September 18, 2015The Birthing Poet – Rebirth4Love Nlistic Souldier
Hey life, we had a good one, didn't we. Lots of adventures, so many things to see. Ive done so much, yet it is barely anything. Thank you, for all the experiences you bring.
Holding onto your last breath, 
Colours we strive to leave behind, Hope of a future beyond our lives. A legacy at the mercy of future generations, It's the only variation.  
I know fear and loathing
"There's no flaws in dreams,"Said my mind to me,"Be who you are, And who you want to be."I may have a personality,That's flawed in many ways,But a mind that's reigns...
"There's no flaws in dreams,"Said my mind to me,"Be who you are, And who you want to be."I may have a personality,That's flawed in many ways,But a mind that's reigns...
I am fighter and a leader; an encourager and movement starter. I was rescued from depression
I gaze into the mirror, wait that isn't me Someone else is looking back at me An eldery man, clean shaven with striking brown eyes I then realize, they are mine. Sunken cheekbones of slow death
If you became blind, what would you remember? The color of autumn leaves in September? Your mother's face; The stars in space; The spark of a fiery, glowing ember?  
Chorus -
The legend of the koi fish goes that if the koi fish swims up the waterfall  it one day it will become a dragon.    Since I was little,
I'm my own mind,thoughts, and process Creating thoeries from my past Asking why did I turn out the way I am Thinking sullenly like the dark clouds in the sky
I am from the cicadas of hot humid summers
Sometimes I imagine That when you have died Words dribble from your lips like vomit Wade through falling time Crawl stickily into the ears of children and choke you back to life
People will judge you from you looks to you attutide  to your nails to your shoes that is what people do they wont remember your name unless you rise into fame and have money and expensive things
Permanence is fading The mind is in today Memories cascading Into an open grave   Make your mark on this world We live to seize the day And die carving our name on stone
Many people do not realize t
The white sandy beaches crash against the waves as if battling for the territory of land. The birds fly through the air sending signals of impending danger to their nearby relatives.
i remeber once we kissed twice we talked always love on the air as though perfection rest i held you you held me i made a mark with you you held a mark in me a thing to remember that moment that never dies a thing to remember that a legacy betwee
I am a blink in history. My life will be short. I can choose: Will I be someone remembered for my love, or for my hatred? Though I may not remembered for very long,
I wish to leave my handprint on the earth. And in the clay, a story to relay. It may be on the greatest wall of China, The humble widow's home, The eye of the sphinx, Or a stone in the wood.
The cants and wonts, wont stop me,  I bring overdue glee, to my forefathers on the fruit fields, when I ace a test or get called the best, their sweat never in vain,
Who am I? It is the question of the ages. Am I who I was Yesterday and all the days before that? Am I who I happen to be Today? Is the sum of all of my Todays equal to my Tomorrow?
Easily connectedNever truly relinquishedTime cannot buryWhat does not breathe  
I write for me. I write to keep my soul alive. I write for my mind to strive. I write to share my dreams. I write because it means something to me. I write to preserve my sanity. I write to share my story. I am me and I am a writer.
I know why the caged bird sings, To tell me the message, That of which Maya Angelou wrote for me, She wrote it for me, Just for me, You see, Sometimes I need a little pick-me-up,
I’m from my grandmother’s rocking chair, perched against the wooden door. I’m from old spices and corn tortillas, that melts inside your mouth with their vibrant flavors.
As if my mind could not fathom the intricate desires of the world; as if my story could not bleed onto the pages Although the ever-turning pages of life shall inevitably run out. I pray my story will continue on.
Discovering takes time choices are always with you Yet, the road is incomplete and one must choose again. One path can lead to the end, but one can lead to another and another
A caring word from the heart, or An action done for someone else; The ability to display affection, or The ability to think outside one’s self. In this world, an individual is the focus:
10 things I want to say to my future son By Sam Opoku
I am dying, yet I continue to live I wake up, yet my mind drifts in a endless slumber My thirst for knowledge is slowly dying of dehydration My hunger for excitement dies of famine I am dying
Why waste away your heart and lose your soul? Everyday brings a chance to convey, Renewed meaning of life, Revived displays of beauty, And vibrant essence of bright futures.
I touched him and the bane of all I knew, hope to know and would ever know came alive. It felt like, atoms dancing on the backdrops of unborn galaxies, collapsing and expanding at will. Like, lungs pumping air into the windows of open souls.
Subscribe to legacy