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10 Relatable Poems about life Worth Knowing

In this Post you will see some Poems about life from some great poets that will touch your soul. After reading the Poems you may see and live the life with a purpose.

Life can be all about enjoying good moments and maintaining composure while passing through the bad phases. God has created human life so that people himself can see the true colors of the nature surrounding themselves. But in this dynamic world where people and the surrounding evolves continually, people are finding it difficult to keep up with the rapid change.

This change has led to the chaos in the life of the people. While people are finding ways to get out of this chaos, one of the easiest and simplest way is to learn from the person who have passed through that bad phase.

To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty,
to find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better,
whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch,
or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has
breathed easier
because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.
I took my Power in my Hand—
And went against the World—
‘Twas not so much as David—had—
But I—was twice as bold—
I aimed by Pebble—but Myself
Was all the one that fell—
Was it Goliath—was too large—
Or was myself—too small?

Short Poems about Life

Famous storytellers and poem writers have been able to draw attention of the layman by expressing their thoughts in form of poem. Poems which define life has been a trendsetter in this Digitalized world. Poems for Life can be an instant cure for those who are suffering to keep up with this fast growing world. 

“A Fairy Song” by William Shakespeare
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire!
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon’s sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours;
In those freckles live their savours;
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.

Life can be sometime be too short to live a dream or too long to stay up with your dream. As the wise men have said You either die as a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain. This has been said in context that life should not self-centered but to be lived with harmony and peace.


Things get broken
at home
like they were pushed
by an invisible, deliberate smasher.
It’s not my hands
or yours
It wasn’t the girls
with their hard fingernails
or the motion of the planet.
It wasn’t anything or anybody
It wasn’t the wind
It wasn’t the orange-colored noontime
Or night over the earth
It wasn’t even the nose or the elbow
Or the hips getting bigger
or the ankle
or the air.
The plate broke, the lamp fell
All the flower pots tumbled over
one by one. That pot
which overflowed with scarlet
in the middle of October,
it got tired from all the violets
and another empty one
rolled round and round and round
all through winter
until it was only the powder
of a flowerpot,
a broken memory, shining dust.
And that clock
whose sound
the voice of our lives,
the secret
thread of our weeks,
which released
one by one, so many hours
for honey and silence
for so many births and jobs,
that clock also
and its delicate blue guts
among the broken glass
its wide heart
Life goes on grinding up 
glass, wearing out clothes 
making fragments 
breaking down 
and what lasts through time 
is like an island on a ship in the sea, 
surrounded by dangerous fragility 
by merciless waters and threats. 
Let’s put all our treasures together
— the clocks, plates, cups cracked by the cold —
into a sack and carry them
to the sea
and let our possessions sink
into one alarming breaker
that sounds like a river.
May whatever breaks 
be reconstructed by the sea 
with the long labor of its tides. 
So many useless things 
which nobody broke 
but which got broken anyway.
—Pablo Neruda

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