Poems about Joy poems

My Little Source of JoyThe Sun rises and the Moon blooms,Flowers dance and celebrate for me,Day comes and goes,Night is ever peaceful,It is soothing always like musicwhen air blows a

What joy has filled my empty heartFor so long starved of love, My spirit floating through the airAnd on the clouds above.What joy has come to me at lastWhen all my hope had gone, For finally my

I ride on the mountain tops, I ride; I have found my life and am satisfied. Onward I ride in the blowing oats, Checking the field-lark's rippling notes --    Lightly I sweep    From steep t

If it were not for youIt seems that every day would beA life unfulfilled.Winter then forever and no smile of spring.An icy lake without a melted heart within.You are my secret joy.When first I s

There's peace and joy in knowing That love and truth so reignThat joy and peace in sowingMomentum will just gainIf we could all just mend our heartsOur minds and souls shall followIn reaping sow

On these undulating hills where sheep roam free, and every rabbit builds his own colony.Yellow cowslips, pink clover and purple vetch, add colour to the green fields as they stretchas far as the e

The moon whispers a sweet lullaby to an audience Of starlets in the morning sky Soft breezes uncover the layer of my happiness Lazy clouds of grey melt in the sunshine of our love. Memories of a l

animal joyfreedom fromall guiltsAuthor: john tiong chunghoo

Certain people are really a joy to knowWhose presence makes you feel away from foesWhere only thing in their presence be feltIs over whelmed love and kindness beltThese people can also be called

Joygets a bad pressfrom poets and divines –it’s fleeting, can’t be trusted, bringsa downside; better far they sayis bliss: quiet, indifferent, that is, beyond all differencesthat sadd

I see youcoming through these fields of joythrough the blaze of wheatlost inthis shimmering heathazewith & withoutformnow a scarlet dressnow nothing but a flameburningin the distancemy he

She gave to all, with caring handsand warmth of heart.They called her, with a hint of praise'our volunteer'.Her man of fifty yearsthought of himselfas flabbergast, the very thought of clubs