inspirational
Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
Radically Human
I am a soft nerve pulling the threads of pulsing memories from my aorta. I am too romantic. Too forgiving. Too raw—all glorified stucco blood, oxidized red in the open air. I pray to hope like its love’s only disciple—carrying sparkling golden-gilded light in tired hands and passing offerings to every heavy heart insisting closed walls harbor safety while refusing to glance at the pastel promises flooding the horizon of possibility. I wince at the mercy of an old familiar ache. Love is a constant human condition—a wildly, beastly response to firing synapses answering to the guttural reflex of a learned paradox—if you accept the scarcity of love, heartbreak will be easier to take. I know better; there’s no solace in selective solitude. I am radically human—all the refracting prism hues, shattered and (still) hellbent on shining through all the cracks. I am a lion-hearted reminder, an impossibly gentle howl—love is, love is, love is.
By Brooke Pratt5 years ago in Poets
Unspoken Words
Imagine a universe completely absent of color, dye, and stain... can you think of anything more depressing than waking up to a world that's been disguised in opaque. Everyone transparent exposing their truths, lies, leading straight to their shame, is it possible for one's soul to thrive with no color ever known? Does the spirit ever heal after the first love breakup? Where from the beginning everything went wrong. Can a person with mental illness ever stand tall, push through and when necessary live life alone.There is something hypnotic about that red, burnt orange glow dancing inside that uncontrollable fire that humbles a man only he himself has read his story and it will be forever untold. One harsh word could quickly transform a crisp blue sky to a most awful color grey, one bad intention swiftly shoos away green vegetation and any left over resentment or anger helps keep it away. The purples and violets are carefully placed, trouble with that is knowing what time to enjoy them and when its time to let go and walk the other way. If you notice purple always precedes the turqoise and blues, some can lighten the spirit and may even bring closure and justice to others suffering and grieveing.... but its difficult sometimes to edit the dark, as the color wheel fades it leaves the behind the navies, and royals and the blackest of onyx where no man has ever been known to go. The browns were never forgotten they just happen to come before the red, oranges, and yellows, way back then when everything was brand new. We all know that story... lets not forget about the pinks and the magenta who miracuosly made it through.
By Natasha ryan5 years ago in Poets
My childhood was orange
My childhood was orange. It was the orange Banana Boat sunscreen bottles I kept close for reapplication because the plump, pale parts of me that my tankini swimsuit couldn’t hide burned so easily in the Southern sun, making the beach both embarrassing and exhausting, so I avoided the place most kids in my town hung out.
By Erin Schuppert5 years ago in Poets
