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Uplifting Free Verse Poems | Free Verse Poems About Uplifting

These Uplifting Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Uplifting. These are the best examples of Uplifting Free Verse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Resilience

When you are pushed, push back.

...

Who do you think you are!?

The only apology in this room is you!

I refuse to hold hands with your broken memories.

Your heart
Falls unto 95 degree quicksand

Molded clay,
I now use to cover your illiterate stanza.

This flesh,
Your insignificant breath used to layer
With seductive whisper

“Please, stay”

I siphon rejected wood chunks,
From your winterized shoulder
Igniting our bridge under Summer equinox

Daring
Me

To hold you again tomorrow

Denied

…

I walk down melancholy roads
Just to hear smile’s exhale

Following Gene’s footsteps
Singing in my
Reign

Reigning supreme

For every judgment you made
Is every step I take
Every move I make
Towards rose colored stairways within
Your unseen heaven

He’ll be watching you

…

Never falling,
But rising in love

Do I
I do

I do not
Want you encased in my cerebellum

You have become a preposition with no value

Yet, still
I rise
In love

Without dependency’s fingertips
Upon my beautiful Spanish lips
Mi corazon no quieres a ti!
For my mirror, lunges true colors upon my sleeves

Forged hummingbirds unwrapping knotted Cloud 9s
Without a need for you

Without a need for you

The arrival of silence’s last stand
You will see the titanium on my hand
And your binary smile
Will evaporate unto your cracked Sapphire’s shell

As you wear my incipient exhales

Breathlessly, 
Giving you hell

…

©Drake J. Eszes


Details | Free verse |

Children of a Lesser God

I’m tired of knowing
That because of my race
Because of where I live
Because of my last name
I’m part of the band…
The children of a lesser God

I’m tired of knowing
That there is so much hate
That it can only escalate
Till someone presses the button
And we blow up in nuclear hate
All because
Some of us are children…
Children of a lesser God

First world 
Second world
Third world
Labels and degrees
Different ideologies
Religion no longer a balm
But something to cause harm
Human life of differing values
We mourn them differently
for some of them are children...
Children of a lesser God

How it must make God cry
When His children bleed and die
Unable to understand
That there is a grander plan
One of perfect harmony
In another place in time

He won’t be sitting at heaven’s gate
Asking for an ID
Or checking your nationality
He won’t see the color of your face
Or ask about your race
All He will want to know
Is if you let love grow
Did you live according to His will?
Did you try to relieve suffering and pain?
Were you the bandage of peace
that bound up the wounds of hate?

First, second, third world people
Are all children of one God
Though some may disagree
I ask you all to see
That we are all
Every single one of us...
Children of the Greatest God.

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Free verse |

An adequate vocal gesture

I do have purpose
that stays near
a constant reminder 
of my inner child

As my conscienceness
shines through to create 
a new perspective
I break out of my cocoon

Only to discover that 
I find places where
the sanctity of my being
does not flow as it should

My intuition is what 
guides me though
there is no longer the 
desire for the constant 
upheaval of tragedy to strike
upon me

On my journey I have 
discovered that there 
are many hidden truths

So as my spirit ascends 
I am inspired by my bravery...

If I am frightened 
by the visibility that 
standing proud does to me
then I shall stand even taller

No longer will I fear 
the degradation that
once was my shadow
there is no home here 
for the shame any longer

And I will no longer be 
swayed by the fragments of defeat
When I become sorely tempted by
sheer exhaustion

And I think I can't
make it on my own
I will remember that 
I am walking this
road of life for me...


Details | Free verse |

She Hulk

When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses 
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed 
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were  ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman 
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or god,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us 
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood 
just how much words effect us. 
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.


Details | Free verse |

Masterpiece

Paint me.. 
a picture of disaster
of Self pity 
of little worth

of meaninglessness 

on a cornflower blue background
and red brush strokes

signify me..

put me on canvas
on display
for all to see and
criticize

because even 
free wine and
hors d’oeuvres
will never be 
enough

this grand 
opening
isn’t for them

or even
for you
it 
is 
for
Me

I am a masterpiece


Details | Free verse |

A Seagull's Plight

a resilient soul
hoists his drooping wings
dreary but dreamy
soars far
so high
he keeps on searching for his illusive dreams
regardless of the storm and height of mountains
goes through miles away
in his equanimity
straight with vision of sunrays
on  plight are failures
not too bad
tries again
the mighty swords in his heart
so much patience and love help him to survive
in every  vicissitude and kinks of his life
oftentimes
we  can get the melody of what we want
if we  allow the cacophonies to come



Dec. 5, 2012

Form: Suzette Prime

First Place
Contest: Suzette Prime: Prime Numbers and Philosophy
Judged: 12/14/2012
Poet Sponsor: Suzette Crous


Details | Free verse |

Ribcage

Split apart your ribcage,
Open up the corridor, and let me come in
Uneasiness instantly strikes through me
Let me sway away...
Let me flutter away...
Like a butterfly out of its cocoon 
I'm trapped!Let me depart

Split apart your ribcage,
Unwrap me, let me go!
Believe me...reflect on me
Let me sway away...flutter away
Let us both seek the sun,
So we can grow together once more


Details | Free verse |

Upon His Blameless Feet

Glass and fractured imaginings are trite
Upon his blameless feet
Even as he dance and play about them

Toxic and perilous smoke are authority
Outside his naive lungs 
While he freely breathes to ensure laughter

Blood sprinkles and routine metal shards 
Within his innocent hands
Presently, as he claps to the street’s tune

Mordant activities be forever present
Before his youthful eyes
Just before the gleams therein make hearts sway

Remarkable is…
            Miraculous is…
                           Wondrous is…
                                         The resilience and spirit of youth


Details | Free verse |

My Secret

Each night
i put my hands together 
confessing the days mistakes
and to wipe the slate clean
its by my faith you say im forgiven
but still...
i continue to be a sinning machine

I keep you locked up deep inside
hidden
so i dont give myself away
to blend in
i hide you from everyone i know
they have no clue i pray
but why am i afraid to show my true self
forced into playing their games
is it because of the ridicule that would follow
would they even call me names?

its amazing
the transformation that takes hold
when my sinners "gameface" goes on
the lying and profanity gently flows
from the river of my mouth
but deep down
it's really just a con
i try hard to do and say the right things
so you wont be disapointed in me
but its so difficult for me to say " Darn-it "
rather than another word i could pick
from my vocabulary!
 
but thats what makes you all loving and true
you understand that we are not without sin
your love for mankind has always been there
we just have to let you in

Each night
i put my hands together
and ask for the courage
to unlock you
from a place deep within
each night




Details | Free verse |

Life's Battles

It's strange how God talks to us. Sometimes in the wee hours of a sleepless night, Sometimes a sweet voice appears in the background music of the vaccum cleaner. Maybe while driving home from a tedious workday with the radio turned off. Maybe awaken from sleep words pouring from your heart and soul that makes you Jump out of bed and scramble for pen and paper. I'm not the least surprised that the words jump out of me, For God has talked to me many times in this manner. You see, they all have a common denominator. Its when you tune out the Distractions of your surroundings that God can talk to the innermost parts of your being. He leaves your heart and soul in awe as your mind comes back to earth. No, I'm not a bit surprised that he woke me from a deep sleep. I pray for him to talk to me. He knows I need his inspiration. It's like bread and water To sustain me from the hum-drum of everyday living. I'm not a saint by any means, probably worse than the worse, lowest than the lowly. God knows me and he loves me anyway. Maybe I disappoint him with my selfish, stubborn And sinful ways, but he knows I love him and trust him in all things. Jesus is my Redeemer and salvation. He walks by my side thru tragedy, he is my healer through All my sicknesses. My faith is strengthened in him until my back feels it will Break into. Oh, what a friend I have in Jesus. A young man once said,"We young people need to hear from our older generation the experiences they have overcome in all Situations." "We hunger for your testimonials to help us to know what to do when We are faced with our own trials and tragedy's." Maybe, when God speaks to us, even thru poetry, the real circumstances that we have faced He is only giving us the gift of being able to see the blessings that come from tragedy to Make our walk so much more easy.


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