Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
Blame My body was not his to borrow But he borrowed it anyway I was not ready to lose my innocence But I lost it anyway
By Renee Stout8 years ago in Poets
Look inside your soul Look inside your mind Don't you know you're one of a kind? Let go of your fears Hold on tight my dear
By Barbara Spoor8 years ago in Poets
To all the good souls out there I salute you. I know it hasn't been easy. It isn't easy. People like you were born with so much love to give in a world that has too much hate.
By Cass Lena8 years ago in Poets
Casper, Casper, Casper What a lovely name. Did you not know that I am happy to be shining? Ah, did you not know that your walls would be confining?
By Abi Briggs8 years ago in Poets
They tell you that you’re beautiful They look you in the eyes, and tell you exactly what you want to hear but, It’s the words they don’t say that you hear louder
By m raquel r8 years ago in Poets
a young girl went crying into her room over a stupid thing somebody said they laughed at her because she was different ironically, they were too
By lauren aspen8 years ago in Poets
Dear little girl Don't listen to the mean boys at school. They probably have a crush on you, So don't let them hurt your feelings.
By Sydney Maddox8 years ago in Poets
I wondered 'bout taking your spice I wondered 'bout taking it all I wondered 'bout leaving you dry I wondered 'bout leaving you raw
By GAMES FROM CJAY8 years ago in Poets
Mindfulness The practice of what is happening in the here and now. Running or walking Deep cleansing breaths Aware of the sound of your feet as they touch the ground
By Janelle Ouellet8 years ago in Poets
What if we decided to come out of "Hiding?" Whose actions should be on trial with the honorable Judge-Mental Presiding? Questions circulate amongst the hypocritical answers you've
By Michael avant8 years ago in Poets
I'm tired of being a metaphor. I want to be concrete. The creaking of a door, the flickering of the streetlight outside,
By A. Stewart8 years ago in Poets
Like birds they slice through the air. Hips above necks, eyes always, always, closed. They look like they’ve become
By Natasha Lalonde8 years ago in Poets
