i am just a teenage girl who takes great enjoyment in writing poetry. my poems are selections for all ages. some poems are meant for more mature readers, and others delightful to children.
As you read my poetry, you will immediatly be whisked away on jubilous journeys, be taught the importance of true love, laugh with me at spontanious scenes, and ride by midnight astride a silver silked ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Macy Dvirnak Poems
Doubt ye not, The power of words, For they can build up,
Spring Did Come.
Spring did come, On butterfly's wings. On a flitting bird, And the song it sings.
Common Sense, or Not So Common?
If you possess, An ignorant ear, You will also possess, Stumbling feet.
The Master Spoke.
Why is the world here today? The Master Spoke. Why are we sinners, like sheep gone astray? The Master Spoke.
The White Lion
I was walking along, In the Dusk of day, When I looked up, And there a creature lay.
Defining the Cowgirl
The clothes don't make the cowgirl, But the definition does. To be a cowgirl,
A Deceptive Nature
A Day to Fly
If God gave me A day to fly, I'd spread my wings With great glee,
Thankfulness Is A Virtue
Thankfulness is a virtue, That we shouldn't live without. It fills us with immense happiness,
Kiss Me Not
I am waiting for the one, Whom God had in mind Before I breathed,
What Is A Barn?
A barn is many things- A barn is a fun place To run, romp, and play.
The Greatest of These is...
Foolish Folly of a Fool
The man who claims to be wise- Is so, Only in his own eyes,
Comments about Macy Dvirnak
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Doubt ye not,
The power of words,
For they can build up,
Or they can desrtoy.
Like firey arrows,
From the tongue they fly-
They can give life,
Or cause one to die.
They be not something,
With which to toy-
Words can wrought sorrow,
Or bless one with joy,
Words can bring one
or painfu panging of regret.
So speak ye not,
words of death,
But rather words
which be sweet-