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<blockquote data-quote="wakeupcall4" data-source="post: 406593" data-attributes="member: 164155">we had to write a poem for english here goes:Looking back at a life full of happenings small and large,Flipping through an old notebook full of drawings.Some are complex illustrationsWhile others are but doodles.Those many unfinished sketches remainPartially penciled in on the pages of the paperbackThose unattained goals lie pleading to be achieved.Only those few complete designsTruly mean something to me.I can tell that in my life,These were my priorities.Many of these are dazzlingThey lie on the page begging to be admired and remembered,Devouring my thoughts now,Just as they devoured my life then.Still every now and then the memories of the other finished illustrationsReappear in my thoughts.Not as dazzling as the others,They are ugly.The ink is smeared and blotted.Many of those priorities â€“ in the end â€“ have proved to be unimportant.Yet I spent a large part of my life on these â€“ and now thereâ€™s no returning.No matter how hard I try to push them deeper into my memoryThey resurface like a swimmer gasping for air.Still I remember my triumphs more often than my follies.OH AND DONT CRITIQUE IT PLEASE I JUST WROTE IIN ABOUT 10MINSand no its not supposed to rhyme</blockquote>

[QUOTE="wakeupcall4, post: 406593, member: 164155"] we had to write a poem for english here goes: Looking back at a life full of happenings small and large, Flipping through an old notebook full of drawings. Some are complex illustrations While others are but doodles. Those many unfinished sketches remain Partially penciled in on the pages of the paperback Those unattained goals lie pleading to be achieved. Only those few complete designs Truly mean something to me. I can tell that in my life, These were my priorities. Many of these are dazzling They lie on the page begging to be admired and remembered, Devouring my thoughts now, Just as they devoured my life then. Still every now and then the memories of the other finished illustrations Reappear in my thoughts. Not as dazzling as the others, They are ugly. The ink is smeared and blotted. Many of those priorities â€“ in the end â€“ have proved to be unimportant. Yet I spent a large part of my life on these â€“ and now thereâ€™s no returning. No matter how hard I try to push them deeper into my memory They resurface like a swimmer gasping for air. Still I remember my triumphs more often than my follies. OH AND DONT CRITIQUE IT PLEASE I JUST WROTE IIN ABOUT 10MINS and no its not supposed to rhyme [/QUOTE]

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