inspirational
Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
tiny shards
He put me on a pedestal And I pompously perched upon it, High and vacuous until He skipped away. I was defeated The pedestal fell What a shock I endured, and I shattered, tiny shards scattering Where did he go? What am I not - to him? What did I do to make him turn his back, not caring to look as I shattered, tiny shards scattering The world twirled day after day Earth rotated purposefully in its orbit The moon waxed and waned until My existence eventually brightened And there were Sunbeams striking hanging crystals, Shining rainbows onto me, and when I shattered, tiny shards scattering, They were multi-colored, scintillating, Revealing my new love standing silently in front of me
By Andrea Corwin 4 months ago in Poets
WHO PICKS THE ROADS WE TAKE?
WHO PICKS THE ROADS WE TAKE? Who picks the roads we take when the morning starts to rise, Do we choose the paths before us, or are they written in disguise? Some roads are bright and shining, with the sunlight dressed in gold, While others hide beneath the shadows, where the bitter winds blow cold.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 4 months ago in Poets
More of Self
The words they call Shakespeare Where is my pound of flesh In the darker side of humanity I expelled it across My ledger of creation From behind and below From the inside out I could use Damocles I guess That has stuck with me All my life It To proliferate My art In the shadow of the perilous sword My want Is to feel the Steinbeck In me, the understanding, beauty But the horror Without hiding Behind a ledger of Anything grey or black Was almost always more intriguing Or made the pure and good Even more impressive Forth with Jekyll My doctor my captain They The bastard I am doubt And cannot ignore All my Degraded egos And My own Disintegration In spite of Victor I am more Of self And dare each and every one Of you Out there To question validity And artistry As if communing with Those who came before Hemingway or Joyce Who echoed the halls Of history Through their fingers And felt the pains Of humanity In their hearts
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Poets
Finding Freedom
I look at my life and realize how much has changed I'm not the same person I was before My life has been completely rearranged Before my divorce, I was simply a mother and a wife Although I loved my family, I had no purpose in life Constantly changing diapers and preparing meals The only joy I indulged in were Facebook reels I didn't have purpose I didn't have goals I needed something to put a spark in my soul That's when I realized I wanted more So, I packed up my belongings and walked out the door Leaving someone behind isn't easy It's a heartbreaking emotion But, sometimes, when we leave something behind, It becomes our own personal promotion I began to feel light I began to feel free The biggest realization was when I finally acted more like me My eyes became open as I started to see Shedding toxic people made me feel free
By Brittany Benko4 months ago in Poets
