Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
The morning sun emerging gifted the rich sky a burgundy hue, Marking the start of the day my soul has been envisioning for what feels like eternity,
By ruby emmott5 years ago in Poets
Writing poems about the colors you love, is just dull and just nostalgic enough, if you isolate gray thereof, and recall with closed eyes the confusion, all of.
By Aryan Dhar5 years ago in Poets
I stick my fingers into the clouds and pull them out dripping Gold the shade of a lion the shade of the tall grass she rests upon under the belly of the blue sky
By Maclayne Diener5 years ago in Poets
I had everything And then nothing, all at once A castle in the middle of the city A sweet, fuzzy cat by my side A boyfriend who loved me
By Maddie M.5 years ago in Poets
We are more than the flesh Surrounding our bones We are more than how we dress And the fabrics that we own We are more than the words
By Mellissa Britt5 years ago in Poets
The colors of life I am The rain of existence Pulsing through my soul To be, a tree, a bird Or a butterfly Unfolding it's wings
By Andrew Clare5 years ago in Poets
As true as a lie to a child will hurt, will a broken promise break you. As false as a man whose step strays from his word, wouldn't he fail to build you?
By Brandon A. Kelly5 years ago in Poets
A poem for all the wonderful mothers out there who have helped to make me to into the very best mom that I can be. Inspired by Martina McBride’s This One’s For The Girls.
By Elsie Regina5 years ago in Poets
From this lifting liberation I feel loss Like a crater taking place here Emanating endless space here Yet this caverns not long empty as I fill it up with breath
By Marie Ebacher5 years ago in Poets
Detox Thoughts with a Crayon Box I remember the day. I was only four. When I opened the crayon box To see colours I had never seen before.
By Angela Dacey5 years ago in Poets
I’m a kaleidoscope of stains Blood red birthmark on my spine A temple with purple veins One prominent sleeping line
By Henk Pretorius 5 years ago in Poets
For so many years, I saw my reflection as black, not knowing that I was seeing what void of color people reflected back. The color of my skin defining what others see as my character, was never even a speck of color on my real nature’s picture.
By Carmen Woofs5 years ago in Poets
