Inspirational poetry is just the thing to lift your spirits or rejuvenate your creativity.
Red Twilight’s Embrace As night descends with a crimson glow, The sky ablaze with hues below. Dark clouds drift in a fiery sea,
By George’s Girl 2026 5 days ago in Poets
Moby Dick. The Whale. Jonah's three days. Take your pick. Nights and days in chasing death. "“And I felt saddest of all when I read the boring chapters that were only descriptions of whales, because I knew that the author was just trying to save us from his own sad story, just for a little while.”
By Diana5 days ago in Poets
I. In darkness, on wave-bent seas, this boat of mine takes on water but stays afloat. II. Storm and sea may batter me
By Dean Traylor5 days ago in Poets
I am NOT alive, why do assume I am !? I am not well, why do you assume I am !? I am nothing, why do you keep assuming I am something !?
By 365poetry5 days ago in Poets
Look at this image right here - woah, like woah !? Look at this image right here, I just cannot go to "Sunday's" corner without the hope of repentance....
Introduction This is a villanelle and my ninety-eighth piece inspired by Angie Livingstone's inspirational artwork. "The Art Of The Glittering Fox" is now available on Amazon worldwide.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 days ago in Poets
Verse 1 I felt you before you spoke, Like a truth I could not forget. One glance and the world fell open,
By Julie O'Hara - Author, Poet and Spiritual Warrior5 days ago in Poets
Verse 1 Ego waits at the edge of the land, Wanting proof it can hold in its hand. Watching seeds that were never its own,
Verse 1 If someone tells you to close your eyes, Says the truth is a threat to your peace, If they ask you to silence the voice inside
Verse 1 I saw you coming down a road, and every step you took was hard. My feet rose up before I knew, tightening the edges of my guard.
Verse 1 Folks won’t listen if the talk ain’t about them, They won’t stay long once the shine starts to fade. Turning from the truth when it don’t fit their desires,
Verse 1 Cinnamon was shackled in the corner of the dream, Bound by threads of memory the daylight couldn’t clean.
