Here is a list of Inspirational Poems. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
Free heart
I open my eyes,to what could be,an open heart thats for me, with this heart its tender and free,for i will give all of me,i waited to see if this is true, for all i want is just you, you look and stare and gave me the glare, now i know that you are there.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2018
About this poem:
This poem i just wrote cause this is how i feel and look at the way i see myself to met the one that melts my heart and to see if its true that they make me feel .
ALL A PART OF GOD'S FAMILY! By Paul David Powers
People judge by the clothes you wear,
The age you are, the length of hair!
But we are all unique-you see,
different styles and beliefs!
Some they drink and smoke pot,
into country into rock!
Me I'm just an old hippie,
all the above and more you see!
All a part of God's Family!
The age you are, the length of hair!
But we are all unique-you see,
different styles and beliefs!
Some they drink and smoke pot,
into country into rock!
Me I'm just an old hippie,
all the above and more you see!
All a part of God's Family!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2018
About this poem:
Kind of a Morning Inspiration!
The Dunes
Shifting like sand in a porthole
Colliding like particles of matter
Creating dust that rise in a sky
Cooling into long vapor trails
Stretching as far as my eye
Washing waters making lines
Sculpting little parallel ridges
Laying side by many sides
Shifting stretching under my feet
Colliding like particles of matter
Creating dust that rise in a sky
Cooling into long vapor trails
Stretching as far as my eye
Washing waters making lines
Sculpting little parallel ridges
Laying side by many sides
Shifting stretching under my feet
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2018
About this poem:
A photograph (in my profile) I took looking through shallow water at a nearby lake shoreline.
84
*
**
********
O my dear : without any doubt :
The only language, in the world, that requests no word, is :
(( Compassion ))
*********
*****
***
*
**
********
O my dear : without any doubt :
The only language, in the world, that requests no word, is :
(( Compassion ))
*********
*****
***
*
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2018
About this poem:
A very simple idea
Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?
while counting your emotional scars
To where you place your wishes
upon a distant star?
What do you think of me
when you discern my intentions
while assuming nothing but contention?
As we all seek that loving connection
in hope to bring us closer to understanding
the god we dance to in offering protection
how often do see our own reflection?
Its quite sad indeed how we cry of our
wants and needs
while we sit and wonder if anyone pays
any heed?
How we spend a lifetime in search of self
often claiming we know more than any book
on a shelf
Yet, isn't a amusing how the questions of life
change just when we think we have an answer
though the song remains the same we just keep
seeking different dancers.
Who do you think you are suffering needlessly
thinking the grass is any greener
running from the truth so far?
Perhaps we shall find that everyone shares
that common need to be loved and understood
It matters not how young or old
or pretty or cold
We just have to stop hurting ourselves and each other
and reach out to our sisters and brothers
Selective love will never bring peace of mind
it just reinforces special relationships we seek in kind
Heaven and Earth merely is and dances happily with time
Maybe if we learn to observe how the universe sees us
life and love can be embraced without all the fuss!
If we look within to see the purity of truth for it seeks not
to debate its proof
we may learn behind the veil of illusion and confusion
the light we seek is pure and true and it says I Love You
while counting your emotional scars
To where you place your wishes
upon a distant star?
What do you think of me
when you discern my intentions
while assuming nothing but contention?
As we all seek that loving connection
in hope to bring us closer to understanding
the god we dance to in offering protection
how often do see our own reflection?
Its quite sad indeed how we cry of our
wants and needs
while we sit and wonder if anyone pays
any heed?
How we spend a lifetime in search of self
often claiming we know more than any book
on a shelf
Yet, isn't a amusing how the questions of life
change just when we think we have an answer
though the song remains the same we just keep
seeking different dancers.
Who do you think you are suffering needlessly
thinking the grass is any greener
running from the truth so far?
Perhaps we shall find that everyone shares
that common need to be loved and understood
It matters not how young or old
or pretty or cold
We just have to stop hurting ourselves and each other
and reach out to our sisters and brothers
Selective love will never bring peace of mind
it just reinforces special relationships we seek in kind
Heaven and Earth merely is and dances happily with time
Maybe if we learn to observe how the universe sees us
life and love can be embraced without all the fuss!
If we look within to see the purity of truth for it seeks not
to debate its proof
we may learn behind the veil of illusion and confusion
the light we seek is pure and true and it says I Love You
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2018
Post Comment
Poet to Poet-2018
Poet to Poet
Sleep evades/
So many questions/
So few answers/
The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him--it cannot fail. --Walt Whitman
Dearest Poet,
Something out of nothing.
Nothing so wondrous as the poet's making--
requiring so little in the way of raw materials--
and yet so much (dreams, memories, passion).
Do we do it out of love for
that phallic symbol, the pencil?
Is the pencil like a lover's magic wand--
beloved for the enchantment it
creates out of our own substance?
Or is it the simplicity of the tool?
The same tool that makes
children's drawings, telephone doodles,
lists of figures can also make worlds!
The ordinariness of the miracle.
It reminds us that creation
is both commonplace and divine.
~
(pause)
Giving a gift that cannot
but be given away--
a song, a poem, love,
breast-milk to a baby--
enriches the giver above all.
The circle is completed.
The gift comes back.
The daily practice of an
art enriches no one so fully
as it does the practitioner.
It is a thank you to God
for the gift of consciousness.
Out of that,
I have written this.
Out of emptiness
comes fullness.
Out of hunger
comes nourishment.
Out of unrequited
love come songs.
~
The poet, writing,
always spins
a web to join
her emptiness
with the fullness of
remembered love.
Remembered love
from childhood,
remembered love
never requited,
remembered love
perhaps only imagined.
~
Nobody can tell you
how to make the poem.
You must earn it word by word.
Nobody can give it to
you but yourself.
You cannot buy talent,
nor can you extinguish
talent by selling it.
But you can confuse
the bearer of it,
making him or her think
that mortality is not
the common condition.
We pass. Our breath
stains some pages.
We pass the pages
on as proof that we were here.
(pause)
The poem is a self-feeding,
a self-nourishment, a self-love.
To call it "therapy" is to diminish it.
What is the difference
between therapy and self-love?
~
All the difference in the world.
I must close, poet
Write soon!
SAS
Sleep evades/
So many questions/
So few answers/
The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him--it cannot fail. --Walt Whitman
Dearest Poet,
Something out of nothing.
Nothing so wondrous as the poet's making--
requiring so little in the way of raw materials--
and yet so much (dreams, memories, passion).
Do we do it out of love for
that phallic symbol, the pencil?
Is the pencil like a lover's magic wand--
beloved for the enchantment it
creates out of our own substance?
Or is it the simplicity of the tool?
The same tool that makes
children's drawings, telephone doodles,
lists of figures can also make worlds!
The ordinariness of the miracle.
It reminds us that creation
is both commonplace and divine.
~
(pause)
Giving a gift that cannot
but be given away--
a song, a poem, love,
breast-milk to a baby--
enriches the giver above all.
The circle is completed.
The gift comes back.
The daily practice of an
art enriches no one so fully
as it does the practitioner.
It is a thank you to God
for the gift of consciousness.
Out of that,
I have written this.
Out of emptiness
comes fullness.
Out of hunger
comes nourishment.
Out of unrequited
love come songs.
~
The poet, writing,
always spins
a web to join
her emptiness
with the fullness of
remembered love.
Remembered love
from childhood,
remembered love
never requited,
remembered love
perhaps only imagined.
~
Nobody can tell you
how to make the poem.
You must earn it word by word.
Nobody can give it to
you but yourself.
You cannot buy talent,
nor can you extinguish
talent by selling it.
But you can confuse
the bearer of it,
making him or her think
that mortality is not
the common condition.
We pass. Our breath
stains some pages.
We pass the pages
on as proof that we were here.
(pause)
The poem is a self-feeding,
a self-nourishment, a self-love.
To call it "therapy" is to diminish it.
What is the difference
between therapy and self-love?
~
All the difference in the world.
I must close, poet
Write soon!
SAS
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2018
About this poem:
I have been journaling since I was nine... Dear Diary evolved over the years to Poet to Poet- Coffee shop at the Edge of the Universe. Where the smell of burnt toast fills the air, Me in a corner booth scribbling on napkins so I don't choke on metaphors...
'Mommy daddy wrote us a poem!'
Little Sara ran into the house with
her freckles and a letter
'Mommy, it's a poem from daddy!'
Mommy wipes her hands on her apron
and turns the heat down on the stove
'O dear! Sara flys into mommys arms
and mommy sits Sara on her lap and
says,'Lets read it together darling.'
To Sara and mommy,
To my two special ladies..
Sara, I miss you so much but this
war keeps dragging on. Daddy will be
home some day to hold you in his arms.
You are like sweet candy canes hanging
on my heart and the angel of my joy.
Mommy, the dreams of your kiss and love
is the strength of my heart and hope and
you are the apple of my eye. Daddy won't
be long before he is with his precious girls.
Daddy won't be long.
I miss you ladies so much.
I love you!
Daddy
Sara just sat and hugged mommy for the longest
time. Through all the tears rocking away in that
chair a cab pulls up in the pouring rain.
A knock on the door.
A man in uniform.
A big wide smile.
It's daddy!
her freckles and a letter
'Mommy, it's a poem from daddy!'
Mommy wipes her hands on her apron
and turns the heat down on the stove
'O dear! Sara flys into mommys arms
and mommy sits Sara on her lap and
says,'Lets read it together darling.'
To Sara and mommy,
To my two special ladies..
Sara, I miss you so much but this
war keeps dragging on. Daddy will be
home some day to hold you in his arms.
You are like sweet candy canes hanging
on my heart and the angel of my joy.
Mommy, the dreams of your kiss and love
is the strength of my heart and hope and
you are the apple of my eye. Daddy won't
be long before he is with his precious girls.
Daddy won't be long.
I miss you ladies so much.
I love you!
Daddy
Sara just sat and hugged mommy for the longest
time. Through all the tears rocking away in that
chair a cab pulls up in the pouring rain.
A knock on the door.
A man in uniform.
A big wide smile.
It's daddy!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2014
Post Comment
smmer heat
The July heat has come and it is as though winter is not far; as the summer has already flown by quickly. It seems as the weather is always one extreme or another. The summer heat is but a reflection of these things as I watch the heat waves radiate over the pavement. Life is a twinkle of the eye so saith the Word of God. Life is full of such extremes but I can live with out the drama. Holy is the soul that finds gratitude in the withstanding of what life brings. Though I would rather bare the heat than the cold; blessed am I that I live too experience life. If this be wisdom, then I am great full to have enriched you. If it bares no weight then it shall not hold you down. On the alter of peace, peace to you.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2018
About this poem:
meditative reflection of living daily life. I felt inspired to share these reflections in hope of some one else being enlightened.No title
Oh to dance with a poor waif
rather than worry to have enough gold
to make a woman rich in her safe
Oh to understand that love is not measured
by a pound of gold
But, who will be there for you when
you are sick and old
Disgrace not the heart that loves
without discrimination
Just embrace the one who
will look upon you without
Damnation
Love comes in many dimensions
and often with noble intentions
Yet often met with bitter contention
The greater regret is to assume or judge
the quality of love offered when you may be
sitting with none in your coffer
Tis' easier to place blocks and walls
against love and passion
based upon past experiences
that shape our perceptions
Yet, we can ask ourselves
how is it working in our pursuit
of a loving connection
Oh how we place vain expectations
in the search for love
Yet, it is rather amusing when it
stands in front of us waiting to fit and embrace us
like a glove.
As we sit in denial
waiting and hoping for that physical
attraction thinking who or what we see
will make us think we found a trophy
We find its mostly a distraction
The fantasy in love is often full of disillusion
and measured by our own confusion
Real love knows the truth and offers
healing with noble feeling
Its seeks nothing to gain nor offers unneeded pain
If its hurts we must be doing it wrong
hence we may need to offer a better song
If we offer love upon terms or conditions
Imagine the god we dance to in whom we seek
forgiveness and compassion did the same
in his or her fashion
No greater pain or regret we can ever suffer
than the chance or choice we had to offer love and healing
but chose to shut out or do nothing to reconcile the gnawing
feelings
Though we can justify anything and everything thinking with our ego
we did right but, is it worth the fight?
Counting the sleepless nights wondering if we should have held our
lovers a bit more tight or let them go to follow their own flow?
In the end when we stand before our maker and gnash our teeth
to the things we did and the things we didn't
We will carry everything good and bad and wear it like a snug mitten
Forget not those who held your hand that helped you and led you through
the darkness in the quality they can
They were your angels to set you on your way to help you believe in better
days.
Walk in the light of the spirit of love and forgiveness seek within for
your happiness for no fools of vice will ever suffice
while you are looking for love for a price
rather than worry to have enough gold
to make a woman rich in her safe
Oh to understand that love is not measured
by a pound of gold
But, who will be there for you when
you are sick and old
Disgrace not the heart that loves
without discrimination
Just embrace the one who
will look upon you without
Damnation
Love comes in many dimensions
and often with noble intentions
Yet often met with bitter contention
The greater regret is to assume or judge
the quality of love offered when you may be
sitting with none in your coffer
Tis' easier to place blocks and walls
against love and passion
based upon past experiences
that shape our perceptions
Yet, we can ask ourselves
how is it working in our pursuit
of a loving connection
Oh how we place vain expectations
in the search for love
Yet, it is rather amusing when it
stands in front of us waiting to fit and embrace us
like a glove.
As we sit in denial
waiting and hoping for that physical
attraction thinking who or what we see
will make us think we found a trophy
We find its mostly a distraction
The fantasy in love is often full of disillusion
and measured by our own confusion
Real love knows the truth and offers
healing with noble feeling
Its seeks nothing to gain nor offers unneeded pain
If its hurts we must be doing it wrong
hence we may need to offer a better song
If we offer love upon terms or conditions
Imagine the god we dance to in whom we seek
forgiveness and compassion did the same
in his or her fashion
No greater pain or regret we can ever suffer
than the chance or choice we had to offer love and healing
but chose to shut out or do nothing to reconcile the gnawing
feelings
Though we can justify anything and everything thinking with our ego
we did right but, is it worth the fight?
Counting the sleepless nights wondering if we should have held our
lovers a bit more tight or let them go to follow their own flow?
In the end when we stand before our maker and gnash our teeth
to the things we did and the things we didn't
We will carry everything good and bad and wear it like a snug mitten
Forget not those who held your hand that helped you and led you through
the darkness in the quality they can
They were your angels to set you on your way to help you believe in better
days.
Walk in the light of the spirit of love and forgiveness seek within for
your happiness for no fools of vice will ever suffice
while you are looking for love for a price
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2018
Post Comment
Magnetic Attraction ..........
As I ponder over a cuppa
How another day passes by
In my small small world
I carry a very big sigh
I glance upon the fridge
Standing nearby
The places my wife has seen
And the magnets she did buy
A castle in Germany
The Eiffel Tower standing tall
Alaska and there moose
And some beautiful waterfall
The SanFrancisco bridge
And it's city abound
Yosemite National Park
And all its natural ground
Hawaii Samoa Greece
And even Hong Kong
Canada London
The list goes on
All captured on my fridge
Just nearby
From my small small world
With its very big sigh ...........
How another day passes by
In my small small world
I carry a very big sigh
I glance upon the fridge
Standing nearby
The places my wife has seen
And the magnets she did buy
A castle in Germany
The Eiffel Tower standing tall
Alaska and there moose
And some beautiful waterfall
The SanFrancisco bridge
And it's city abound
Yosemite National Park
And all its natural ground
Hawaii Samoa Greece
And even Hong Kong
Canada London
The list goes on
All captured on my fridge
Just nearby
From my small small world
With its very big sigh ...........
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2018
About this poem:
Contemplating ...........Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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