Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
“Life is a trip. The only problem is that it doesn’t come with a map — we have to search our own routes to reach our destination.”
By Ruth Elizabeth Stiff12 months ago in Poets
No One Owns Me I walked through fire, and felt no fear, the flames grew high, yet I held my ground. Voices chased me, calling me theirs,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 12 months ago in Poets
Serenity falling.... - Fluffy - Freezing - Graceful - Bracing - Beautiful - Each snowflake that settles a masterpiece
By Alexander Stoddart12 months ago in Poets
Welcome to the Outstages Café. This dispatch is not a post; it is a ritual. A flame was lit. A veil was lifted. A correction was made.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 12 months ago in Poets
I found a shoebox in the dark behind a winter coat. Its cardboard spine is still whispering like a paper-throated throat. Inside: thin flags of afternoons we thought would never fade—
By Milan Milic12 months ago in Poets
The lesson starts when you mistake a spark for a star, When gravity teaches your open palms to be hands, when streetlamps dim just enough to remember the night,
The roof remembers how we turn toward weather and light. Your vow was copper, spinning slow in the square of the window. We set our bearings not by maps, but by opened hands—
if memories were like snowflakes and we saw how fast they faded maybe we'd forgive those past mistakes and never keep our loved ones waiting
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden12 months ago in Poets
Dementia does not run in my family, but the condition is not solely genetic, therefore I've harvested an important memory here, when I am not too desperate or frantic.
By Katherine D. Graham12 months ago in Poets
The fire began in silence A spark against years of pain Each betrayal stacked like timber Each cruelty fed the flame 🔥🔥🔥
By Sara Wilson12 months ago in Poets
Bruised by you your hands shaped my bruised face, dark marks spreading over my skin, each wound showing your temper, each breath filled with fear.
Whispers In The Wind The night grew wide, stretching the sky, pulling her thoughts into silent dark. The wind called out,
