Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
Borrowed Spine I wore my fear like a second skin, all wrinkle, no design, until the day I stood up straight on someone’s borrowed spine.
By Milan Milicabout a year ago in Poets
Thrown from Mt. Olympus—why? Because of my limp? Did my disfigurement displease you, Mother? Did it make me less of a man, Father?
By Stephanie Hoogstadabout a year ago in Poets
I. For eons, I walked the earth, never knowing where I was going, never knowing what I was all about. II. For eons, I walk this proud earth
By Dean Traylorabout a year ago in Poets
Even if the morning’s full of gray, Light a rainbow deep within your soul! Even if your courage fades away, Every turn will lead you to the goal.
By Erian Lin Grantabout a year ago in Poets
Morning dew still clings, crane’s cry cleaves the hush of dawn, autumn breath exhales.
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets
Later, you traveled to many places alone, saw many things alone, and began to smile to yourself. You weren't growing accustomed to loneliness; you were beginning to enjoy freedom.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
I speak in rhymes and mysteries Because that’s how I think My brain shittles riddles because it titillates my neurons It is how I do my best to get along in this world
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Candles That Don’t Beg I used to strike a match for proof, to bargain with the night, to hold a trembling halo up and call it borrowed light.
The Sky Forgot Blue This morning, the heavens wore borrowed gray shoes, a sepia ceiling that swallowed the views. The gulls looked like erasers smudging the light,
May your days be long... ⏳ And your stress be short... 💆🏾♀️ May you reach the summit and use your torch... 🧗🏾♀️ May your dreams be fulfilled, and may you gain great sight; may you move mountains when you write...
By Tiffany Gordonabout a year ago in Poets
We were the trees Sturdy on the land We gave life to one another We lived hand in hand The core of us the tree trunks Arms embracing, leaves
By Raine Fielderabout a year ago in Poets
Nocturne in Bare Feet The house exhaled; I slipped the clock and wandered off the sheet, Let midnight find its lullaby in nocturne, bare of feet.
