Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
I’ve been catching myself lately. Lately I know things have to change but it’s up to me to walk in it. It’s up to me to see my flaws for what they are.
By Inanna Venus5 years ago in Poets
On the corner of the busy street Hiding the sorrows behind a rigid face A trembling hand begs Begs for attention to earn a single cent
By waqar jameel5 years ago in Poets
My mother is the kind of woman who keeps a spotless home — weeds plucked, laundry folded, shoes packed away. So, when I was 5 years old, she put on her rubber gloves —
By Suri Chan5 years ago in Poets
Strands of confection flow from your crown Windows hum your radiance. You beam makes divots of joys The Marks from your mother.
By Julian Q.5 years ago in Poets
I’ve learned throughout the years My broke down lullaby Remembering that’s my sound Cause that’s always around
By KuroHoshi5 years ago in Poets
Visioning - Poet’s Song Oh poets, write us Saving-songs, of what you see Write of True-dreams of what can be Tell us true, of how we feel
By rusch5 years ago in Poets
It sounds a little strange, But did you know, Every time your heart breaks, Even when you’re low, Even at the bottom, When you hit the earth,
By Karen Quinn5 years ago in Poets
I dreamed a dream much bigger than me I caged the demons I inherited, left them to starve in dark and dusty corners Swept them clean with the clutter in my head
By Brandy Lara5 years ago in Poets
Who am I? I look at myself in the mirror I see a reflection of myself What else do I see in the mirror? I still see thyself
By Tausha Henry5 years ago in Poets
In your turmoil around you, Swept away in darkness, Anxiety head and overthinking, Chained into the blackness, When inside you feel trapped,
Beside me, in the golden light That slants upon the floor, She twines the many-colored silks Her dimpled fingers o'er;
By Raj Karki5 years ago in Poets
When someone you hold very near and dear to your heart, says something, you choose to believe in everything they say. Like honey leaving their lips.
By Zayne Siaris5 years ago in Poets
