Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
In the closet, now I’m out… Curled up in a fetal, trying to hide in the closet I was born uniquely made, special ingredients of composite
By Barbara Falo5 years ago in Poets
There's a man, in a tower, in a room; I might as well admit that I fit the stereotype. When I was a kid, speculative fiction - mostly science fiction and fantasy - taught me a lot.
By Drew Dunlop5 years ago in Poets
I have a Super Power. It is… being me. The light inside, beaming bright. Embers spark outwardly… Connecting Riveting rays reaching… Touching
By Natasha Marquis5 years ago in Poets
We stem from the perfect creation Arrived in this abyss of our nation Fallen in todays expectation making you feel less
Rising from the ashes of being incinerated completely, They transmute and they reform ever so uniquely, Likened to our souls scorched in transformation,
By Karen Quinn5 years ago in Poets
The boy saw his mother grubbing on her knees, Toiling like a mouse to get hold of the cheese. She works around the house, cleaning all the dishes.
By waqar jameel5 years ago in Poets
The human form is always a work in progress, from birth to death, a constant change is style, outlook and attitude, we are ever evolving, constantly turning into some older more beautiful version of ourselves.
By LonerMan5 years ago in Poets
The Tiger of Lions By Brandy Miller It flows, life. A never-ending cycle. Birth, death, and strife. Over and over again.
By J.B. Miller5 years ago in Poets
Run away with me baby Put your hand in my hand Let’s leave tonight honey Let’s run away now Without a plan Right now
Your lost Joseph will return to Canaan, do not grieve This house of sorrow will become a garden,do not grieve Oh grieving heart,you will mend,do not despair This frenzied mind will return to calm,do not grieve
By A B Muhammad5 years ago in Poets
'Who am I?' a voice cries out A face stares back at her With tired eyes Hair thrown up Yesterday's clothes upon her frame
By Mumma Bloom5 years ago in Poets
The walls are like jelly, the air thick The ground below morphing into a hot lava bath with tiny specs of earth remaining
By Monet Graham5 years ago in Poets
