Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
What does life hold in trust worth more than an absence of pain? Is there something greater Than indignity forgotten: A nameless constellation of scars without stories?
By Aulos.Media6 years ago in Poets
Trust is something that is easily broken. One wrong move and it will fall to the ground and shatter into a million pieces.
By Trinity Laughery6 years ago in Poets
I thought I wanted to live in stoicism. A place where I could fly under the radar, no questions asked. I settle in and feel the disappointment rise as I realize it’s not what I had hoped.
By Kat The Girl6 years ago in Poets
I tend to ask myself questions over and over again. What is my purpose? Who am I? Mother used to tell me little girls was made out sugar and spice.
By Georgina Sapphire6 years ago in Poets
Starting as a child who never fit in, where all the problems did begin, no matter who you did you always felt alone, wondering if your presence was even known,
By Jenni Lodge6 years ago in Poets
She could garner money. To her it was the goal She treated it like honey The sweet dollars fed her soul. Her response to the lust
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Poets
If I could step outside myself, and rearrange my mind I’d probably get distracted by the pieces that I find I’d pick up a random memory, and lose my train of thought
By Vicki Lucas6 years ago in Poets
I look up upon the glittering stars that shine above The lights fade one by one til there are none I set my gaze on the pounding waves of the rumbling ocean
By Jess Tang6 years ago in Poets
Having done all to stand, Stand. Firm and unwavering, as the Anchor Who holds you. Stand. In the promise, In the Light from Whom you shine forth.
By Kara-Glenn Bolger6 years ago in Poets
So I’ve explained how it can be, and some of the damage it’s done to me. I know the science behind my poison, I chose ice but its not frozen. The hardest thing to let go, this was the path that was once chosen.
By Troubles in my past.6 years ago in Poets
You plunged your dirty hands Inside my soul Not stopping until you had tainted every core of my body; My spirit Yet you called it love, you were doing me a favour,
By Annie Lane6 years ago in Poets
Twisted I’m twisted, wound tight Strangling the roots You just wouldn’t get it Unless in my boots Like ivy to walls Like weeds to the ground
