inspirational
Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
Music Will Lift Them
Look at the masses The humble and downtrodden Music will lift them Author’s Note: We are on day thirty-four of my path down the fifty-day song/lyric-inspired senryū challenge. Today’s poem is inspired by “Piano Man” by Billy Joel, which you can listen to below.
By Stephanie Hoogstadabout a month ago in Poets
memory merry-go-round
There were four, then three - and Three searched for Four and howled, looking – a full year - in all of Three’s hiding places. Suddenly two were left, which made room, of course, since the four had become two. Two again turned into four . Suddenly, four became three , and Three was happy to find that he was among three , not four. We missed Four , but Three did not . Then he, Three , died, too. Two more came along for a short bit. But again, the circle repeated: four became two , and the last ones, the two who arrived last, were here after the original two were gone. The Original Two gone! Was it twelve years? Sketched into throbbing hearts and pulsating brains, revolving on the memory merry-go-round. Then, the circular cycle repeated, taking one of the last two Followed soon by the second’s departure, L e a v i n g the h u m a n s as T w o , and B e r e f t .
By Andrea Corwin about a month ago in Poets
Heart Beneath the Hide
In a forest deep where shadows play, There lived a beast with fur of night, His eyes like embers in the fray, A creature born of fear and fright. The villagers whispered tales of dread, Of claws that tore and fangs that gleamed, But few had glimpsed what lay instead— A heart untouched yet softly dreamed. One stormy eve, when thunder roared, A maiden lost her way from home; With courage bold, she sought the lord— The beast who ruled this twilight dome. Through bramble thick and misty air, She found his lair adorned with woe; Yet as she stepped into despair, His mournful gaze began to glow. “Why do you hide?” she gently asked, “Behind this mask of fierce disdain?” For beauty dwelt where hope was tasked— In shadows cast by silent pain. He spoke of battles fought alone, Of love he lost beneath the years; Of dreams now set to bitter stone— Each word wrapped tight in veils of tears. But there within his sorrowed chest, A warmth ignited through her grace; She saw beyond his fearsome crest— The gentle soul time could not erase. From that day forth their bond grew strong; In laughter shared beneath the stars; He learned from her what felt like wrong— And healed his heart from all its scars. Now children tell a tale so sweet: Of beauty found within the beast; How love can mend what’s torn or fleet— And turn a monster into feast.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
