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Inspirational Art Poems | Inspirational Poems About Art

These Inspirational Art poems are examples of Inspirational poems about Art. These are the best examples of Inspirational Art poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

The Conventional Girl

Underneath the sea of trust 
Words shovelled sand in her eyes
The smell traced back a map of hope
Paradise could still not be located

Joy lived far from her earth
Please wake me after my death
For I might have missed the turn 
I did dig my own emergency grave I remember

My dream trails had no brake lights
Bumps after bumps 
Poetry drums speeding eternal crumps 
Every soul bumped into my back seated lips
The road to their ears required constructive rhymes
Poetry police 

Bulldozers bullied opportunities on the pavement of my love
Paradise got dizzy and lost meaningful visions 
Conventionally my heart is one
Sharpened in tubes sharing heart-beats with no lies

I loved loving love
Restricted dreams to stick-away from uneven pants chasing bums 
My mouth opened doors shaming the unshakable love triangle stunts 
Usually conventional uses are unusual 

My heart my grave
The future I paved
The sand glowed like stars in my eyes
Disgraced to blind my visual crafts
My confession

The roots of my strength came in veins
Circulating thoughts 
He made me shoes from manmade bricks
For I walk buildings in my dreams 

Skyscrapers scrubbing the breeze of hope in the sky
She placed her heart in rules
Speak your promise 
I the conventional girl 

© Ray 

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane

Details | Verse | |

this is why i woo words

This is why I play philosophy
 on the field that lures lore,
 to gain the literati’s lovely trophy
 and the golden grains of life to explore.	

This is why I fraternize fair play
 on the pitch where wisdom wonders,
 to dichotomize shadows and sunray
 and to preach ours’ to plough and not to plunder.

This is why I write white
 on the surface that’s clean and clear
 to rid the world of nasty knight
 and to harmonize monks and men each year.

This is why I woo words 
 to have rhymes as my errand boy
and lyrics as the golden cords
around the poetry pen I will always employ.

Copyright © Adeleke Adeite

Details | I do not know? | |

Raindrops

Raindrops
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty 
about what tomorrows
pain may bring

They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
illumination. glistening
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best

Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide

Ready to Receive
whatever
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
my spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
home

For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine

Copyright © Heather Hill

Details | Free verse | |

PIZZA AMERICA'S FAVORITE

Thick or thin, it is the Friday night order in special,
Supreme or meat lovers delight, whatever toppings
You like it, does not matter for it’s 
The all American favorite, Pizza!!
Roll out that dough, cover it with Italians specialty
Sauce, cheese me to please me, I’ll never get enough,
I’m simply addicted to this deep dish pan delicious stuff.
Cut me no single slice, for more, more, more,
Is the thunderous roar of my mighty hungering’s
Rumbling, within my tummy, for what Pizza!!!
Circled or squared, just roll that pizza cutter of 
Portions pleasure, pick up your slice and allow
That thick cheese to pull apart naturally,
Then bite into Nirvana, for this is heavens
Perfection guaranteed by the slice.
Now the frozen microwave style may work in a pinch,
Delivery or the hot and ready special can satisfy
My personal hunger glitch, for that tasty pizza pie,
As long as can get it, I’m satisfied.
Oh grant me one pleasures sinful command to break
Dearest lord above, to indulge myself, and stuff
Myself with pizza, pizza until I burst, for gluttony is
One distractions fault I have dear father, when it
Comes to this circle food, as it spins on the nightly
Commensals boob tube.
Is it not against the law to hide messages within
Certain text, because I swear these advertisers
Know our fragile human weaknesses, late at night
For  this delectable substance, called what
Pizza, if I haven’t mentioned it enough,
Yummy, yum, yum old chum.
It’s the party hardy mid-night special, on all
Channels of the United States of America,
There is no doubt of this, rock my world
In flavorful old time favorite, dude I’m
With you all the way, especially on a 
Friday night.
This is my declaration of independence
Declared in Italian sauces redden stainy ink,
Give me Pizza or give me death, just kidding
Folks, by the way do you want that last
Pizza slice, I’m not quite full yet, lol.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

FREEDOM OF THE WRITTEN WORD

Does not the pen yield its ink unto the bare page,
For expressionism to spill forward expelling inspirations
Liberal curve, it’s the power of freedom of speech is
It not.
How many have died for what they believe in,
What weight in blood soils, have these brave
Individuals has cost in life’s causes of the justice
And righteous.
These voices sounding can be heard even though
The flesh flame has been extinguished, hope light
Flickers in the darkest corner of silence, and it’s mighty
Winds wave can still be felt amongst the living.
Know one stands alone in a justified cause, if the truth
In the written words is spoken out loud, and is proudly
Bared by the author.
The next generations seeks our kindling fire, to inspire
There small embers to burn more brightly let us encourage
Such raw fuel to ignite, not smother it by smug self righteousness.
Set ablaze the pages of the future generations, let their inspirational
Spark spread, setting the very heavens a fire with enlightenment's torrent.
In this world we are given the gift of speech, thought, and wisdom,
For what other reason but to share the best of ourselves with others,
It is the gleaming light that sizzles in the eyes of the human spirit,
And severs us from the beast of the fields, and it is called Intelligence,
Compassion, and the freedom of speech.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN



Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

THE GIFT

It vibes in harmonics broadband, a musical language universal,
Echoing across the heights divides, falling as a thunderstorms,
Raw force of spiritual power, descending from the heavens above,
The angels do yield, surrendering the gift of music unto the world
Of man.
Pierced by their angelic thorny prongs, tender notes of rhythm,
Melt downwards from the silver lining of graces everlasting meadows
Of inspiration.
Separations clouds expose the here ever afters, sparks of the divinities
Fame burning as a torch lighting up the skies white powder showering
The earth with sweet melodic undertones, a thundering vibrating beat felt
Throughout the pulsating heart of nature itself.
Music lives within all things, it binds a connecting link, a 
Symphony a blending element, a melting promise between heaven and
Earth, a harmonious balance, light equaling dark.
In the vaults of the skies, the heavenly chorus joins with
The voices of humanity singing a song of complete
Harmony.
What a true wonder is this gift given unto mankind,
To write and sing, to share such expressionism with
One another, music is honestly a universal language
Understood by every nation, or age group beneath
The heavens themselves.
A heritages legacy passed down from grandfathers,
To fathers, and than to sons, and daughters,
Is this the love and wonder of these arts there in
So shared by all members of the human race for
Generations of inspiration to come.
I listen to the songs sang by the morning doves,
To the charming voices of our youthful young,
Than those jolly fellows from days gone by,
You know the old barber shop quorate.
So many variations and depths of degrees,
Harmony, rock-n-roll, to golden oldies country,
Music is a wonderment all to it's own glory.
So we thank you those powers on high,
For this miracle of a gift called music.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Narrative | |

The road to a Championship

    Early one morning a group of rookie's and veteran's ballplayers emerge onto the prac-
tice field destine to began an grueling season of hardwork and a dedication to an common-
goal of Superiority.  They come out of the locker room after the coach has given assign-
ment's and now everyone minds are on one accord, one agenda and together they all say to
themselve's. "The road to a Championship began when the priority to be the best", "is know
from one and all roads to success is gear towards teamwork and passionate loyalty to suc-
ceed at any means there is".  Loyalty to push on through the inclimate weather, hardwork off
the field as well on the field is approachable only when a championship atmosphere surrounds
itself with ballplayer's and not attitude's disrespectful to the cause of the challenge's to be-
come the best at what you do, and do the best at what not to do.  Teamwork is a do-able part
of the puzzle, but there's more to it then that.  There is hunger, and then all the pieces falls
together when that hunger is fed an astronomical desire that fill-up the body and your minds
with offensive and defensive individual's that love's victory and enjoy's a desire to not finish
the race in last place.  So out emerge's a champion in his relationship to his fellow ballplayers
and to his family as that of maturity and that of unlimited resources of the uncoachable en-
tangable fortitude that seperate the advantage's over the disadvantages that make his or her
teammate's reach the level of sportsmenship unseen and redeem as the fans come to see a
player that value's himself and value the diffucult task of Sunday to Sunday ability to be not
only a scholar athelete but also The road of a Champion is what make's him love to compete:


Copyright © John Streeter

Details | Blank verse | |

All I See Is Beauty

All I see is beauty in the burning of her words,
The flickering of flames,
Constructs of fires licking at the night
From snow white sheets of dreaming.

The senses of her bleeding, ink and roses,
Sensual vibrancy,
Gliding rails streaming to the stars,
The links between the earth and heaven’s tide.

All I see is beauty in the visions of her art,
The tenderness of angels,
Architects of chapels wrought of lace,
An arbitrary grace of love.

The impressions of her breathing, saffron breath,
Exhaling of her soul,
Bestow of sleeping kisses to the lips,
Priestess of the mind and loin.

Copyright © Tony Bush

Details | Free verse | |

THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES

Flickering in the night, a melting’s texture of regrets afterglow,
Candlelight’s waxed drippings staining the white laced table cloth,
Yet in the black and white photo album of the timeless, it is a
Pressed flower of remembrance, never to be forgotten,
In the days of wine and roses.

As champion kisses are exchanged between the
Youthful hearts of the innocent, another cork
Is popped, in this cozy interlude of memory’s repast,
Shattered lies this tempered fragile glass, smashed
Against the fireplaces inner mantel, leaving a frothy
Foams liquid behind, causing the crackles embers to
Burn higher with passions flame,
In the days of wine and roses.

Hand cut floral arrangements, plucked apart
Then tossed asunder, a petals trail to silken sheets
Of pleasure, sorrow’s bedding is lined with feathers
Down, angel wings tender sheathing to protect the
Wounded child of innocence, curled inside perfection’s
Illusionary dream, evolving into a flowering silhouette of
Womanhood.
In shad’s refection of repose, she weeps thus diamond
Tears that float away amongst the Lilley thorns, within the
Rippling pool of the timeless,
Oh those were the farewells for-get-me-knots,
To those days of wine and roses.

Valentines shaped boxes shredded into confections confetti,
Thrown into the air of clarity at the ticker tape parade
Of the broken heartbeat, as it explodes into a zillion pieces,
Tissues spent candy wrappers used to wipe away, moistures
Sorrows of regrets folly, thus the tender reed bends into
The winds of emotion,
Behold the tokens price of loves devotion,
Back in the days of wine and roses.

Vintage bouquets of elegance, tarnished with age,
Yet still retaining lusters shine of everlasting beauty,
The faithful clinging to the shadows of the past,
Hopes dreaming romantic, waltzing in rheum with
Memories of illusion, showered by petals of color,
From those days of wine and roses.

Flickering in the night, a melting’s texture of regrets afterglow,
Candlelight’s waxed drippings staining the white laced table cloth,
Yet in the black and white photo album of the timeless, it is a
Pressed flower of remembrance, never to be forgotten,
In the days of wine and roses.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUN


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

THE JOURNAL


In the dusty cobwebs of my inspirational mind,
I’ve written volumes of scripted details, pondered
Epic thoughts, and let mine imagination roam the
Fields of complete abandonment.
A wild child of freedom’s reckless spirit, I’m dived
Head first into the untamed wilderness of the human
Stratosphere, seeking beyond the unknown country
Of the mental unconscious mind, then free fallen into
The waves of insecurity, rescued by mine own self
Sustaining life preserver, called survival.
Line by line I’ve written into my life journal, leaving a
Legacy behind me worth preservation’s finest gilding,
Bound are these pages of mine existence with love,
Tenderness, and freshly cut rose petals, of remembrance.
Reflected in the cover of my life book, are the joyous
Faces of those whom loved me beyond words of
Expressions comprehension, without emotions tears
For they celebrate my life, not with sorrows regrets
But with prides respect and honor.
Through hell’s fire I’ve rambled and traveled, being
Tested by friend and foe alike, but I’ve lifted myself
Beyond the flames of reality, bathing within the warmth
Of a divine faith of loves power everlasting.
I’ve been given the spark of the eternal, it breathes
Within me, it drives my spiritual being, to over come
Ignorance, intolerance and ambience sloth of spirit.
At times I’ve been tempted to dance, against the flame
That flickers in the night, teasing me, taunting me,
To choose wrong or right, but mine feet stood stead
Fast, yielding only in my secret world of dreams escape.
Yes I’ve mused amongst the fantasy realm,
Flying, soaring into the abyss of illusions mirrors,
Clashing as a bird smacking at the glass of reality,
But I’ve awakened wiser, a soldier better prepared
For the battle known as life.
In this journal I bequeath all that is the best of myself,
To those for whom I’ve touched, and in memories moments
Of stilled realization that I’ve gone, dare let no tears blind
Thine vision let no words of sorrow spill from your trembling
Lips just do me the one last favor for which I ask of thee,
Simply look upwards, and smile.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Quatrain | |

SELF-GRATIFICATION IS THE FRIUT OF ONE'S LOVE

Self-gratification is the fruit of one's love,
making the artist's delighted face glow...
when every vision has been achieved,
and each intention joyfully revealed.


He will envision the shape and colors,
then transfer those images to canvas;
and with the gentles strokes of his brush...
real faces will appear and suddenly blush.


Thinker and dreamer, let passion and imagination flow,
don't be distracted by worries or external sounds below;
work diligently with your brush, transcending your own credibility...
but later, it would be too hilarious to scream out your insanity.


Self-gratification is the fruit of one's love...
that enduring, timeless legacy hard to ignore;
when others show admiration, you'll be so pleased
and motivated to add more laurels to your prestige.     


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Free verse | |

You are special

You are the Evening Star glowing in the night sky;
no one can replace the radiance within you. People tell you that you are not cool,
smart, talkative, real.....making you to feel like a douche bag,
being punched right in your heart. Believe me, I've been where you were;
hurt, frustrated, and craving the gates of the afterlife. I looked 
like a person from a rehab. I also felt like a tourist in a place I was born.
As seasons passed, I realized that it was I, with the key to joy. "Rivers don't ask
for permission to replenish themselves; the Sun doesn't 
ask for permission to shine;
an eagle doesn't ask for permission to soar into the sky...." are words from a Zen
book, that woke up my inner fire. I started to dream positive things about me once more, and starting each day with a smile; this also changed the way 
people looked at me.
You are the Evening Star glowing in the night sky;
life being the sky. Never forget that!
 

Copyright © Teddy Kimathi

Details | Free verse | |

The Poet

The Poet

We have been around for thousands of years
Reading our words for kings and queens
and a few people who gathered just to hear us talk.
We lived on the copper coins they could afford
and traveled through the lands writing what 
we saw, dreams and thoughts.
Our words were put to music and made immortal
Others were acted on the stage making
people laugh and cry.
Some words changed the way people thought
and ended hatred between people who
should not feel hate.
People died because they did not realize what
our words could do
Many times a love bogged in fear was loosed
because of a few words we wrote.
God only knows how many children our words
have brought smiles to and how many starting
thinking because of what we wrote.
Why do we do it?
Not to end wars or hatred
Not for the lovers who found each other because of us
Not even for the copper coins people throw
We do it because we love words
We do it to share our feelings
and we do it so that someday maybe someone will read 
our thoughts, dreams and words  and they will be 
remembered long after we are gone.

Copyright © R. e. taylor

Details | Free verse | |

Dear Me

Dear Me,

I need you to be stronger
I need you to never be afraid

swallow your pride,and your flight will be softer
tell her you love her,even if it hurts

Grab onto your dream and live it
Do not be afraid of the sun's divinity

Be better,love more, hold on.

Dear Me,

Enjoy every stop of the ride.
For when the train finally stops...we die

Until we witness the angels dance after final day...
Dear Me, hide your fears away

Copyright © Winter Wallace

Details | Free verse | |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia

Copyright © Laura Hamilton

Details | Lyric | |

CANDLE 1st in Spanish then scroll down for english trans

VELA (CANDLE)First Spanish version, scroll down for English)
Yo ser‚ para ti.
Toda la vida que me queda la vivir‚ para ti
y cuando el tiempo haya terminado,
morir‚ por ti.
Dir‚ tu nombre
en cada vela que encienda, respirar‚ tu nombre.
Te susurrar‚,
cada oraci¢n que diga ser  siempre parte de ti.

Por toda la eternidad,
y as¡ ha sido y ser  siempre, 
y cuando deje este mundo,
aquello vendr  conmigo
en la luz de una vela.
Todo el mundo sigue girando, haciendo el d¡a y la noche,
y de la oscuridad a la luz,
ser s siempre parte de cada oraci¢n que yo diga.

Yo ser‚ para ti.
Como una fresca quebrada de la monta¤a que se desborda por ti
como una c lida brisa de verano
entre los  rboles para ti.
En el brillo de una vela,
todo lo que he sido o llegue a ser 
por toda la eternidad,
tu ser s parte de todo lo que yo haga siempre.
Yo ser‚ para ti.  

					
					Traducci¢n: Emilio J. Saavedra M.     CANDLE	
I will be for you.
All my life that is left, I will live for you,
and when time has run out,
I will die for you.
I will speak your name
in each candle that I light, I will breath your name.
I will whisper you,
every prayer I ever say will be part of you.

For eternity,
and forever it has been, and will always be,
and when I leave this world,
it will go with me.
In a candle light
all the world keeps on turning, making day and night,
and from dark to light,
you'll be part of every prayer that ever comes from me.

I will be for you.
Like a cool mountain spring that overflows for you
like a warm summer breeze 
through the trees for you.
In a candle glow,
everything I've ever been or will ever be
for eternity,
you'll be part of everything I ever do.
I will be for you.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Details | Light Poetry | |

FORGOTTEN TREASURE

FORGOTTEN TREASURE

I've found the fountain of youth
When I stumbled across the forbidden garden
Right smack in the middle of everything
Was what I thought to be a wishing well
I immediately tossed a quarter into the sea
Looking down, puzzled as can be
I peeked in to see where it fell
I leaned over and that's when I saw my vanity
It was in there waiting for me
The reflection in the water was me before this day and age
I thought, what could this be?
With one drop on my taste buds
I knew I found the one true key
The most beautiful thing that can set one free
I reached in to touch the poetry inside me

             SKAT

Copyright © SKAT A

Details | Free verse | |

My Son Moon and Star

            My Son Moon and Star ~

        Approaching the celebration of his Birth 
                cherishing the gift I received 
           within weeks of conception I knew
            something amazing was in Creation ~

            the Stars held a party
            sending me with one of their own  
    Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky   
       It was magic  It was destiny taking its flight.  

           In love with an October full moon 
               drawing and painting I liked 
             thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
                caught in a loss of time 

          Hours going by as choosing my color  
           a wittness to three falling stars 
             A clear night sky sparkle's
           A once Famous Star was sent 
            inspiring the tiny child inside ~ 

           Never a doubt in my mind at all     
       child bearing was worth any pain received
      yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
             one to cherish and hold
          My Son was born the following August ~

    working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year  
         as the set of Leverage for 3 years .

              Has done a Indie movie here  
             In Paris it was seen and honored
             coming soon filmed in Portland ~
                 "The House of Last Things "

        awaiting the credits , you will see
                        
    1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant 
   
                 My Young Lion Mans dream ~
        A proud mom I watch every show and the credits 

        as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
              My Son &  Moon and Star  
               A name you will all know ~

            Happy Birthday to my creative Son
             you will exist in my heart forever~
                        and thereafter               
                             Mom

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Inspiration

I never knew I'd be in heaven
In the autumn of my years,
Or that I'd be immerged
In the brilliant art of words,
Or float above operatic notes,
Or view ballet through
My elated tears.

I never thought I'd meet
Inspiration face to face,
Or feel it rise within me
With a poet's surrendering grace.
I just know that I'm contented
As profound love keeps flowing
From my impassioned heart.
This is the gift that artists
Of this world yearn to impart.

© Connie Marcum Wong

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong

Details | Free verse | |

Louisiana Bayou

Chilly late October;
early morning fog banks
the roadside, cloaks
a trickling bayou...
in the thickets of dense trees,
the wispy tufts 
top man-high
goldenrod, Queen Anne's lace,
dried-out thistle stalks...
A school bus, solitary,
yellow, slowly passes
on skinny black asphalt
where wet spots reflect
the newly risen sun.
Only rustles of high,
green cane fields and 
intermittent bird songs
interrupt pervasive quiet...
Timelessness, and solace --
calming, soothing --
a Louisiana bayou:
Bayou Sale.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore

Details | Rhyme | |

Last night while you were sleeping

Last night while you were sleeping, I could not help myself. I had a silent story for you, I just had to tell. 

I drew pictures with my fingertips, of hearts and "I love you's". Covering your soft smooth skin, with invisible tattoos. 

I saw you smile once or twice, it made me smile too. Right then and there I realized, I truly do love you. 

All choked up I grabbed your hand, and pressed it to my heart. Then gazed right down upon you like, a masterpiece of art. 

Your beauty overwhelmed me, I broke down into tears. Then whispered how much I love you, into your sleeping ears. 

I smiled as goosebumps on your skin, started to appear. Then laid with you and held you close, I had to have you near.

I ran my fingers down your spine, and gently through your hair. The peaceful flicking candlelight,  lit your skin so fare. 

I softly pressed my ear against, your back to hear you breathe. Then hummed a tune inside my head, singing "I believe."

Though far away in dreamland, your heart is mine to keep. It's softly beating lullaby, helped sing me to sleep. 

I hope that you will dream of me, I know I'll dream of you. I'll hold you right here in my arms, you are my dream come true. 

For life's a tale of many things, and powers from above. But I know now without a doubt, the greatest one is love. 



Copyright © Timmie Kreth

Details | Ballad | |

INSIDE YOUR EYES

You stumble over words
feeling insecure
So much you want to say
but still unsure
You worry what I think
tears trickle down your cheek
want to unzip your heart
but silent.. cannot speak

Look into my eyes
and fear will fly away
I'll see inside your eyes
all you want to say
My finger on your lips
don't say a word
Here in my embrace
every thought is heard

Girl, I love you so
ya make me wanna shout
But we can take it slow
ya never need to doubt
Yeah, I am into you
climb mountains, sail seas
Until our kingdom comes
and you're united with me

Look into my eyes
and fear will fly away
I'll see inside your eyes
all you want to say
My finger on your lips
don't say a word
Here in my embrace
every thought is heard

Look into my eyes
and fear will fly away
I'll see inside your eyes
all you want to say
My finger on your lips
don't say a word
Here in my embrace
every thought is heard

Date: 8-6-14


Copyright © Lyric Man

Details | Rhyme | |

THE IMPOSSIBLE

It's unexplainable yet undeniable 
as incredible as that may seem
Society says it's debatable, unfavorable 
but the impossible is inspirational to me

You can be unshakable no fear of breakable
you're completely capable of anything
It's indescribable to be anti-gravitational
not held down by fallible thoughts of man.

It's not irrational in fact it's quite practical
acceptably exceptional to be adaptable
So go be sensational a professional radical
Escape the natural and taste the magical

You call me laughable my thoughts fallible
cause this world's not bashful in its disdain
But I've grown fanatical now I'm unflappable
to touch the maximal and taste the valuable 
I see the beautiful in everything!

*Based on first print in Debbie's contest rules 

Sponsor:Debbie Guzzi
Contest Name: Rock My World
Date: 4-19-14

Copyright © Lyric Man

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

My Plate is Full

  I can only speake for myself now, so if it don't apply [to you] let it fly.
Though I'm not the only one, facing tribulation. So why want I cry....{???}..(Caused)
crying not for me and I don't know WHY-Yall !!...For it seem I've run out of
tear's, it seem...it's no obligation left in me.
  "I don't know why - I think its because of so much Pride,"  (and) I don't know
why..!  "But My Plate is Full-and I think its because of so much Pride."  
So I toss and turn-O'Yes I did, but still.....Lord, why...bring all [of] these burdens on
Me. "Yes I did ask." "I knew I had Man-Up to the task. " (task of obesence) but
still I was not afraid to____ASK(?)..  There are storm's troubeling me, day after
day-Yall, yes day after day, just how much is enough ? I can only speak for my-
self. But it seem like, I've gained them all on my oww-nne'dd..!!!  (sadly) its just
the way it seem. Buut-bu-utt still my conscience has dreams...??? (Now) now...I
did cry..why..I think something happen that just erasted my Pride..{!!!}
"My Plate is Full..(O'Yeah)..realising it..first I had put away the Bull.." Secondly...I
must humble myself {cause} that/is what brings acceptence...(then) the..Bull-lll
may it blinds me from myself..My{dignity} no more. "Upon the steps..(walking) of
the eastern shores.."  "My Plate Is Full"

Copyright © John Streeter

Details | Free verse | |

I'm Your King

A burst of white light gamma rays, overbearing a flash of brilliance burns through to my soul everything is like hell the world starts to melt in the blink of an eye just the cold blackness of night I don't care if I am not again what I once was, for at this moment I am greater now than ever before I took the path between teetering, tight roping walking right up to my right divined in my unholy state I thought I told you I am your king still you sit there, hesitating I know you hate me what does that mean? I hate just about everything still I'm chosen I did not wish before now bow down to me refuse me no more for I shall always be your demon until you accept me as your King. I don't even know you though you say we used to be best of friends, you and me the day you ditched me I remember now exactly how it played out back when we were just tiny things even back then I still was King you thought me stupid just a ruse I would laugh inside, you see? not one of you single, mean people ever even knew me in a world, mostly seen to me that is why only I can be your true King and bring forth a new source of light everlasting. As two worlds collide slowly aligned one wrapped in shadows one bathed in white evils swirling in the clouds above I'll always be the king you love to hate or despise as in your blood I thought I told you, I am the one I am the way, the way out shall be shown breathe in my spirit as it carries you away breathe in my faith it shall carry your empty space and deposit you gently on a cloud just enough higher than you've ever dreamed of for I am king now, and your in my hell your in my imagination, I'll just never tell you'll feel as though dreaming, you'll feel now if you try and see you were always found the most shared in the light cast upon me the last bright star in heaven. Denounce my name, if you may One year later, still not afraid A black sheep, a darkened spade That's just life, I'm not right I'm in the wrong, follow along Like a piper, I'll pitch a song Mesmerized, the weak wills sing I thought he told you, he's still our king.

Copyright © Bj Fard

Details | Free verse | |

Tension Waiting

The swordsman who draws his blade
Heart racing at the keening of steel on scabbard 
Tension coiled, poised for the unleashing
Held back by muscles tight with glee.

I am as the soldier, held in stance,
The lioness crouched beneath the concealing grass
As it sways back and forth, as insects sing along the day
Her every breath is halted, her veins do not pulse,
And just as the swordsman stands
They are statues in this moment,
Statues of derision,
Mocking, with their stillness, the very charged tension within.

And I am as the lioness frozen before her pounce
Coiled with motivation and purpose,
And I am as the tongue held with words clinging off its’ edge
Ready to lash out and strike with direction
But I am as the frozen purpose, held tight
Waiting, for a warrior to stand before me
For a reason to uncoil, to lash out with words and pounce.

But I am now as the pen halting before the purest of paper
White and supple, in askance for the lightest touch
A slash of the tip, drawing lines in ink
Lines like a hunter’s bowstring, taut with intent,

As the pen lies frozen above its prey, the falcon petrified aloft still winds
I am the need coiled tight like a wound jack in the box
But alas, there is no victim to frighten,
No pray to pounce upon, no sword or bared neck to slash against
And I am here, with pen frozen, ink ready to be drawn taut
And I have nothing to draw in the ink, no prey or purpose to evoke
I am coiled tight with energy, but it is release that so eludes me,
I am coiled tight with purpose, but it is direction that so denies me.

And here I am, pouncing at ground before me, 
Slicing away at the air around me
Scratching away with a dry pen, on paper still white in askance
I write about…
I write about the coil within, and the lack without
And alone I wonder,
Is it enough, is it enough to go on, a wound up box
Waiting for the slightest touch, the weakest parry, to live.

Copyright © Samir Georges

Details | Free verse | |

THE STAG

THE STAG

It's a creature of vapors mist, existing within a thin veil
Of nothingness, descending from the unknown pastures
Called Nirvana.
A mystical spirit lingering in the sacred meadows of native, 
Legends and folklore, a beast of good omens, proclaiming
Peace and tribal bliss.
It's very breath brings forth life itself, in nature's 
Spiritual realm, where ever it's hoof's land, the evergreen
Thicket wild, sprouts renewals promise.
Routing it's horns, to a fine points sharpened edge,
The stag shakes the mystical forest free from the chill
Of winter's deadly embrace, and thus welcomes spring
At last.
No such a delicate of Doe appears, than she his mate,
Softest of the brown eyed kindred, gently she approaches 
His grand majesty, ever so tenderly and loving.
With sheer grace of step the two merge as one,
Uniting beneath the lunar moon of twilight.
Behold the white light of brilliance's fire, blazing
As a thunder's storm of the eternal, these are creatures
Of God's everlasting flame, burning on the hearth
Of seasonal change.
Hushed is the woodland, as if frozen in a soft pause,
Ascendence illusionary beings transcend the ages,
Flashing in the shimmering glow from the stars
Of heaven itself.
Melting phantom's of illusions, drift amongst
The night sky, leaving their earthy bondage,
Released once more to feast, in the glens of paradise,
Grazing in the meadows most high.
In the wilderness wild life is renewed,
And the goddess of spring praises them, for their
Sacrifice.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN









Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

Rebirth

Ignite,
The missing light,
Forget,
What's behind.
Just believe,
That love comes again...

'Cause,
The skies,
Are like a hard glide,
In a shining rainbow's light...

All dreams and fantasies,
Can be reality,
'Cause fantasy,
Is based on reality...
But all histories aren't the same...

'Cause,
Sometimes, we dive,
In our lives...

So,
Don't judge,
For what you see,
Judge,
For what it is...,
'Cause time passes,
But, memories remain...

And,
Listen,
To your heart,
'Cause,
The body, does,
The mind, thinks,
And, the heart, feels...,
While, the soul, lives...

So,
Always remember,
To remember the past,
To live the present,
And to wait and pursue the future...

Listen to your heart,
Before you are telling goodbye,
'Cause destiny,
Might lead to demise...,
But, remember that destiny can be changed...

Life is unpredictable,
But space and time,
Could be controlled...
And even if some die,
We may survive...

Remember,
That life,
Might have an endless beginning...

All that remains,
Is to be reborn...

Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz

Details | Cinquain | |

Rainbow Colors (Cinquain)

Rainbow
Colorful arch
Heavenly gracious light
Glorious feeling from above
Colors



© Joseph, 8/19/07
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr

Details | Free verse | |

THE STONE GARDEN-2

Do the immortals cry, what happens to divinities
Tears, crystal shards of frozen miracles, cascading
From the heavens above, swallowed whole by 
Mother earth.
In the abyss of darkness, within caverns dark and deep,
Lies a hidden chamber, of wondrous creations.
Glittering stone shingles, that hang from cave ceilings,
Crystal chandeliers of opulence's brilliance, shining on high.
Diamond cylinders, made from the weeping heart, of a divine
Spirit himself, a stone garden of sorrows tears.
Exposed to reflected light's illumination, oh so do they
Shimmer and sparkle, rainbow prisms of color, frozen
Molecules held prisoner in status freeze.
Nay water is life itself, a living element of nature,
Creations clarity, a universe within a universe.
Oh in such magnificent beauty, lies this sacred
Vision, of this the almighty’s most secret garden.
Seeping mists of moisture rise, enveloping the
Flickering rays of lamp light, adding an eerie
Obedience to this textured display, in this
Almost blackened realm, hidden beneath the
Earth in fathoms deepest depth, the artistic hand
Of God can be truly felt.
Ricocheting light randomly strikes against variations points of
Color, setting aglow from the blue hews, to purples
Fuchsia, a palettes splashed array, bursting forth
This underground aurora borealis.
In granite's cathedral of stone, split by the elemental,
Giving birth to fusion, exposing natures raw force of power.
A blending between spiritualism, and science takes place,
To create this grandest of masterpieces, that I call the stone garden.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN 









































Copyright © cherl dunn