inspirational

Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.

Who Is She?
A sweet little girl smiled at me this morning Beaming from ear to ear with such radiance She stirred up feelings of safety and warmth Likened to shelter of any welcoming home * Although a stranger, I could not shake her My heart yearning for answers questioned Of all people in this world, why this child? Something was familiar yet still out of place * Leaving me with the a weighted burden And an unanswered question: Who is she? * Perhaps it was her golden spun pigtails Gentle spirals bouncing off her shoulders Soft and spongey like shortcake springing Back after a gentle push with one finger * Her coils reminded me of my childhood Mornings, wakening, leaping out of bed Bounding to the television set greeting Bugs Bunny & all his Looney Tune pals * Memories of a savory taste yet unfulfilled Starving to still understand: who is she? * Maybe it was her hazel eyes swirling Jade & coffee tones speckling bronze Her eyes were twins to my very own But hers were a widened revelation * Water encircled each iris overflowing Like a river feeding an ocean of dreams Two twinkling stars shining her emotions She held an ever gaze of wonder & surprise * Seeing her so clearly ignited my smoldering coals A burning desire; innate, to know: Who is she? * Perchance, it was her incorruptibility A tender age of innocence exploring All options without resistance or fear Oblivious to all judgement or rejection * Her soul was free and most willing Not shrouded in shame or confined Instead, poised & buoyantly soaring To heights often avoided with age * Her ambiance struck a buried chord in me Recovered notes responding to" who is she”? * A sweet little girl smiled at me this morning At first sight she was just a pleasant stranger Inviting me to know her better prompting Another look into my mirror to fairly reflect * She sat there staring back at me urging Me to remember; once again connect Too many years passed by dismissing The inner child in me longing for freedom * A promise to let her play releasing repression Reunited me with the she who is in fact, me!
By Marilyn Glover5 years ago in Poets
Through it all, and despite it all.
Throughout the days of constant strife, Throughout the hours of prolonged life, Throughout the constant waves of fear,
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Poets
Lingering Silence
Lingering Silence Time and again, it happens. The routine is like an old friend. Not a welcoming site, but one we’ve grown used to, and assume we like.
By Dujana Chakir5 years ago in Poets
The life in darkness
Day to day I stare at the night, and wonder ! How among the verge of darkness, Came all those gloomy, shiny light ? Darkness has also been on my side,
By Muhammad Sheraz5 years ago in Poets
The Jockey and the Doctor
See the crawling of the jockey, I think he's angry at the hamasaki. He finds it hard to see the eagle, Overshadowed by the lying seigel.
By Sourav joshi 5 years ago in Poets
To you
To You What is more beautiful than night and someone in your arms that’s what we love about art it seems to prefer us and stays
By Adam Eve5 years ago in Poets
The Prince and the Child
See the crawling of the prince, I think he's angry at the quince. He finds it hard to see the eagle, Overshadowed by the lying illegal.
By Sourav joshi 5 years ago in Poets
The King and the Dancer
See the crawling of the king, I think he's angry at the beijing. He finds it hard to see the eagle, Overshadowed by the lying fliegel.
By Sourav joshi 5 years ago in Poets
The Ghost and the Girl
See the crawling of the ghost, I think he's angry at the sternpost. He finds it hard to see the eagle, Overshadowed by the lying riegle.
By Sourav joshi 5 years ago in Poets
The Actor and the Woman
See the crawling of the actor, I think he's angry at the cognitive factor. He finds it hard to see the eagle, Overshadowed by the lying briegel.
By Sourav joshi 5 years ago in Poets
Inkling
This poetry collection is posted in response to my "Walking Triggered" story. It can be found by clicking here. Mariposas I used to think
By Kat Sung (they/them)5 years ago in Poets
Invisible Illness
We may all look the same But know you never will What somebody is going through When somebody is ill. Unless we wear a badge
By Totfish’s Tales5 years ago in Poets