Most Commented Inspirational Poems (4,948)

~you know they're there but they can't get out~

The devil holds the stirrup,
Gives the last a boost,
Opens the stable door,
And upon this world they’re loosed.

The first gallops on a white steed,
Armed with Artemis’s bow,
To cause nations to internally bleed,
And with poison arrows to deal the final blow.

Upon a blood red beast the second rides,
Swinging a fiery red sword,
Conquest his mission, to you I’ll confide,
That of the battlefield he will be lord.

Black as night the third appears,
With his set of scales,
To weigh starvation for the poor but not the peers,
And deaf to all widows and mothers wails.

The Grim Reaper follows all,
On a horse of light green,
Standing in the stirrups tall,
Calling all to follow him, that have his cruel face seen.

These harbingers are of the final judgement.
And for mankind are meant,
As the world balance tips,
The four ride out…….
The four horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Seeming, balanced on a razor’s edge,
The difference between either side, completely stark,
For this place that tricks the eye and mind,
Cannot be invaded by either light nor dark.

Even when taper is put to wick,
The candle refuses to glow,
Under it’s influence, a falling rock,
In it’s descent can seem to slow.

Twilight, the hinterland,
Penumbra at it’s most intense,
Impossibly arresting time,
As the terminator speeds on west.

I sit here in a darkened car,
With three small ones at my side,
All huddled in blankets escaping cold's spar.
Lack Of Money 's the train that we ride.

This train someday will halt its wheels.
A destination will come to pass.
Having boxes with more than just love for our meals,
And bags just full of faith in our grasp.

So in the tunnels of the deepest despair,
Three smiles appear to me.
All warmed with hope that can't compare,
This trip strengthens internally.

We play an imagination game,
And stories we tell out loud,
Of the future's treasures we soon will claim.
On departure, we'll stand right proud.

So when this train stops and we depart,
Like with most trips, we'll all have learned,
Life's journeys are lessons to make us smart,
For our wings we have to earn.

I have navigated the windswept desert of my soul,
Fought untold battles in the valley of discontent,
Watching too as they turned to dust,
Pastures new, that I thought were heaven sent.

On the barren seas of my mind I warred,
Against the storm I raged,
Cursed the sand, the dying shadows of the sun,
With my face pressed against the bars that have me caged.

I salute you!

What an adversary you are, such a worthy foe,
But know this, I will fight until I win this war,
At every turn, at every battle, I will even the score,
Until you let me live the peace I long to know.

The young aspiring poet waited patiently outside the prison cell, and listened to the muffled voice of the Roman guard making the quiet reguest to the aged apostle. Moments later, the guard stepped outside the cell and remarked to the young poet, 'Paul will see you now.' Eager, yet nervous, the poet stepped and stood at the entrance of the cell, and beheld the mighty man of God. The cell was dank and cold, and Paul was chained. Only the flickering light of candle illuminated the half hunched body of this mighty warrior, and Paul turned from his writing and looked directly at the young man. A moment of silence, then Paul smiled at the young man, and speaking with such tenderness, Paul softly asks, 'How may I help you?' The young poet feeling embarrassment, clears his throat, and says,' Sir, I know of your great preaching and writing, and I am a writer myself. Other poets in my circle asked if I might seek you and learn from your mastery of words that we too might write such great things.' Again, the great apostle smiled and motioned for the young man to sit closer. Paul laid his gentle hand on the young mans shoulder, and inquired, 'What great things do you wish to write my friend?' The poet smiled, and said, 'We wish to write of truth and justice, and the true meaning of love, and how we might become known in the world as you have.' Paul looked intently into the young mans eyes, and exclaimed, 'You must be willing to live the the words that you write. 'If you will stay a while with me I will write you something.' Then Paul ajusted the half burned candle pulling it closer to the parchment he unrolled on a flat of stone slab. Paul dipped his pen in the vial of ink, and this time looking deeply into the young mans eyes Paul softly but with a certain sternness says, 'You must take this to heart. Then Paul writes these words: " Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tingling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains,and have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profits me nothing. Love suffers long, and is kind; love envys not; love vaunts not itself, is not puffed up. Does not behave itself unseemly, seeks not her own, is not easily provoked; thinks no evil; rejoices not in iniquity, but rejoices in truth; Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things..." I Corinthians 13

Hands on Game Boy controller
mini-buttons pushed
as images flash by.
Cartoon figures
struggle to succeed
their mission
your power
as year by year passes
on LCD screens.

As images flash by
strategies applied
hard lessons learned.
Cartoons transform
themselves into 16-bit
Super Nintendo faces
bodies well-toned, strong.
Sophisticated programming pays off
interest in game maintained.

Hard lessons learned
new game, same goal – to win.
Exploring improved passages
of 32-bit world with keener eyes
faster hands, fingers on keys
door to next level awaiting.
Alliances form, you sit
in the darkness of your room
illuminated only by screen rays.

Exploring improved passages
32-bit gives way to 64
fantasy approaches reality
in appearance only
alliances severed
alliances formed, game continues
images flash by
games end, new games begin
interest retained.

Fantasy approaches reality
virtual-reality goggles donned
adrenaline courses
through veins
via 4 gigabytes of RAM
focus achieved
amidst the chaos
addictions need fuel
the fire is fanned.

Adrenalin courses
through veins.
Life waits outside your Windows
world of life-like superhuman
and non-human forms.
You choose the player
who you will become
for this game to get yourself to
the next level.

This life is too short
To hate each other
This life is too short
For many tears and pain.

This life is too short
For so many wars and diseases.
This life is too short
Without love and happiness.

This life is too short
For crimes and rapes
This life is for love
Peace and friendship.

I was feeling kind of down that day,
When out of the blue thoughts of you crossed my mind,
We'd been through so many miles and countless trials together
I thought maybe we could share a cup
of self pity together just like old times..

But when I got there someone told me
that you were no longer around..
My jaw fell open, and my heart fell straight to the ground..
And I remember crying why oh why, had I waited so damned long..

What was I thinking, I guess I was
too busy living inside of my own head..
to take the time to go
and spend some quality time with my old friend.
.
And then before I knew it,
Another year had gone by..
And all my best intentions,
Got lost and swept away.

There's just no way to turn back time,
you snooze you lose,
and there are no second chances..
no time for mending broken fences..

Time can be so utterly unforging..
I wish I had not taken it for granted..
And as if to reaffirm this lesson..
The clock is shaking it's hands at me..
Time waits for no one..
It didn't wait for me.

aside a desk, atop lay a yellowed paper laden dust a'butt pen an vapoured well, the planked floor held a mesh bin a crumpled white proofs, chairs pillow taller n it's ever been. . . that mornin in the air twas dif an sensed, he'd seen the sun rise before his very eyes. . she was a glorious sight, a nudge of stir he felt within, id been asleep quite awhile. . a man of passion in his writ word. . . she'd woke in him much said but not heard~ Bentlee