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Write Inspirational Poems | Inspirational Poems About Write

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

Details | Free verse | |

Of Ink

   Partial Paper
 -A poet in heat-

Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion all over the mask you wear
Nothing compares to black stains and broken nails

This part of you 
"A CAN'T BE REMOVED" tattoo
The tough skin you'll ever live in
Fountain pens of split identities
Who Are You?
Sinking  words like no other
Poisoned ink piercing every rhyme
Inferior poet, making the heart pure
Anger plus anger "GIVE ME MORE!"

You have a desire to paint all day,
Breathing and beating in every way
Toxic lines, from which ink flows
Inhaling images from the world
Deep and cold sorrowed emotions 
True love is always easy to poetize
Dear Poet:  "Ink Never Lies."

Pretty pink acrostic ink when she's nearby
Sugar and salt, Epic taste of reality
Ballads sung under the full moon
Sunny Sonnets, on any rainy day
Ode's of rivers from your past
A dark smile jotting down memory lane
Monologue tears brought under pressure
Loading cartridges of fresh Senryu and Haiku"
Dramatic red runs through your veins when all is done
Unfolding old and new propagandas
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth

by;)


Details | Carpe Diem | |

When No One Reads

July 16, 2014- Inspiration for
 "When No One Reads"

When no one reads, keep writing
right now just might not be the right time.

Poets are currently considered
lowest of low, scum of slums
but that doesn't mean things will always be this way.

Be patient growing your poet trees
persistent, 
doing it for the right reasons
dredge that sludge of truth stuck deep within your gut.

Get it out, get words down
just don't try so hard
and please pay no attention to those lacking appreciation for your goddamned art.

When no one reads
please...keep writing.


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.


Details | Rhyme | |

Thankful for the Poet

Your captivating sonnet, a single verse then 
two, the words I write seem not quite right
compared to the ones from you
I've often used too many, and consume your
point of view, your ability to say so much 
by using just a few

Thank you Mr. Shakespeare for a friend I met 
today, because of you she's come from many 
miles away. I frolic in your descriptions 
of each and every noun, as each verse bursts  
and like a poor beggar, quenches my thirst

I thank Mr. Poe for his stories of woe that
deeply stirs my raven soul, coercing the
sadness out of the quills, convincing me that
time kills, love heals, color spills…

I begin to write my single verse, that 
might turn into two, I savor a rarest gift,
the one that came from you. I take a turn, 
my desire’s to please, but discover as I 
write the poem, the poetry writes me




Karen Anglesey 2002


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...


Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?


Details | Rhyme | |

Heaven For A Poet

My own piece of heaven, a quiet little nook,
With only the finest parchment in a leather book,
A feather quill pen and an ocean of ink,
My thoughts would never stop to think,
Every single line I write would rhyme,
My poetry would be beautiful and sublime,
I'd be entertained daily, by Dr. Seuss,
And, put to sleep nightly, by Mother Goose,
Lessons from Byron, Shelley, Coleridge and Poe,
Teaching me every single thing that they know.

My own piece of heaven, will have to wait,
Until one day, when I must meet my fate,
So, for now I will have to be content,
With my own words that may be heaven sent,
Inspiration from my idols is all I need,
Writing poetry in a notebook from Mead,
With this cheap, plastic Bic pen,
And a dream to be, just like them.


Details | Quatrain | |

Too Much Nasty Poetry

I don't like nasty limericks.
I don't like vulgar words.
I'd rather write of better things, 
like maybe watching birds.

So many poets feel the need
to write such graphic things.
The art of poetry to me
is making words that sing.

It's easy to be nasty.
It takes no brain at all.
But I can't keep from wondering
where you get the gall.

My poems may not be 'genius'.
I'm sure they don't compare
to many other writer's work
but mine, I like to share.

No matter if you're ninety
or if you're only nine
you needn't feel ashamed to click
on poetry that's mine.


Details | I do not know? | |

i began to write love on my arms<3

[beforehand i just want to let you know that i wrote this in honor of November 17th. which is 
To Write Love On Her Arms Day. im hoping to come up with a better one before than. but i 
still hope you enjoy this quickly-wrote one(: ]

this is about me.
this is my story.
it is about my struggle,
my fall downs, 
&& all the breakdowns.
this is about every wound i placed upon my body.
over 60 self inflicted wounds,
that as my story went on they began to heal.
i stoped writing "give up" 
i began to write love on my arms<3
this is about me.
this is my story.
it is about my past.
how it haunted me for years,
&& how im still running from some of it.
this is how i went from a hood rat,
to me actually caring about myself.
i began to write love on my arms<3
this is about me.
this is my story.
it is about how i learned to keep the bottle off of my nightstand.
i dont need liquor running through my veins 24/7.
i started to look at life through sober eyes.
i began to write love on my arms<3
&& as i wrote this day after day, i saw that i was loved. 
i found comfort in better things then pills, liquor, && razorblades.
&& even though i am still in healing,
my story is not over.
&& it will never be.
i still write love on my arms<3


Details | Couplet | |

A blessing in my life

I usually write in couplet rhyme
Its simply what I do it's not by design
It's just the way the words seem to flow
Into my head up out of my soul
I love the ones that are full of light
See they are what brought me up out of the night
People prove they care by the things that they do
So I write this light for all of you
I write it because I wish you to know
True beauty is born with-in the soul
The soul is a thing that cherishes the light
Do you not embrace the stars through the dark of night
Well as you do know my words are true
They may twinkle bright but not as bright as you
You are angels who covered me in your prayers
Let me know I'm someone worthy of care
I hold you all in my heart just like my wife
Like her you are "a blessing in my life"


Details | Verse | |

Should It Be Done

Day after day I read words,
                              wisdom seen but never heard
As poets fill their pens
                              with ink of thought that never ends
We try to tell the world
                              of the madness to unfurl
Though thoughts can never be a gleam,
                              in anyones ones eyes if never seen
Perhaps we should take to the streets
                              where graffity scrawls dirty walls
To post words that will be seen
                              so open eyes can then get a gleam
Of the beauty and wisdom we hide inside,
                              that can effect and change peoples minds
Simple words that can be read,
                              by the pathways people tread
Words left on a canvas,
                              for no one to ever see
Might as well be left in a dark ally
                              where drunk people pee
Their eyes to blurry to see, 
                              this message they need to read
For simple words won't change many hearts
                              if just written but never seen



2-7-13
Just me...


Details | Rhyme | |

Approvals I Should Praise

Approvals I Should Praise

The rhythm of my pen knows no bounds
Its ticks, treks, and steps knows no count.
The songs on my lip just loose the count.
No where, I suppose to untie the bond.

Strong bones are so much in here
They touch and squeeze out letters bountifully.
In these bones, many light I have received gracefully.
Linda is one, Andrea is two among all of you there.

You are all amazing guests in this field
Cup of water..., cup of tea come to toast.
Many hugs, many thanks to you, writ and host.
... Eden that crowns my garden and its yields.

Special parcel to my coy mistress, Linda.
All sea, roses...and sweet showers to you.
And my lady Andrea; always brand new!
I love you all... your words in my wall are tender.

Dedicated to:
 Poetrysoup, 
Poet Destroyer A, 
Andrea Dietrich 
and to the rest of Poetrysoupers.

I     am     Grateful     for     your    warm      welcome.


Details | Senryu | |

The Mirage YOU see is POETRY

My Inspiration,                         My Only Beloved,                     My Most Dearest WIFE  
Fellow POETS' Masterpiece         Laureates of Poetry                  LENORE ELLEN : Laureate
Each Stanza THEY WRITE          Poetic Knowledge                     With  POETIC LOVE

Bringing Memories                  Yesteryear POETS                      Living in Our HEARTS
From the Future, to the Past   They INSPIRE all of Our POEMS    Fellow POETS' words of Life
EMOTIONS of LOVE                FEELINGS ; I DON'T KNOW           Penned For History

UNCONDITIONAL                   ANSWERS : Created                  With Feathered QUILLED Pen
Education and Learning           FOR ALL the Future POETS        Write SALUTATIONS TO THEM
POETRY IS Life                       Rhyme : withstands all TIME     Write with HEART AND SOUL

Inspired By and Dedicated To Laura Mckenzie      Author Notes ; Read Top to Botom Left to
Right. Read each Horizonal line Left to Right  Example line one all three Senryu 
My Inspiration, My Only Beloved, My Most Dearest WIFE Also Read Capital Words in the 3 
Horizontal Senryu Example : WIFE POETS' LENORE ELLEN ; THEY WRITE POETIC LOVE


Details | Couplet | |

SOUPS ON

         Writing is my challenge each day
     But it's not the words or what to say.

     It is the connection with other writers here
     Because I feel I'm not worthy or equal I fear.

     The talent expressed by so many others
     Often makes me want to hide under the covers.

     The gems that are written and ones that I read
     Are so inspired, personal, and give me a need.

     That's why I come here every time
     To see what others have put in their rhyme.

      Carolyn always has a message for me to ponder
      And others write things that make me wonder.

      I often race to the "New Poems"  just to see
      If by some chance there's one by which P.D has destroyed me.

      And Carol, Bob, Nick, Emily, Wilma, and "the Sweetheart"
      Write things that sometimes I just can't pull apart.

      The Doc has written so many things
      I am amazed sometimes at the thoughts he brings.

      Others are here who write so well
      Their words do me so oft compel.

      For like unto them I want to be
      Writing words that have meaning for others to see.

      Will they be worthy I say when I'm done
      Or will they be read by others, as I've intentioned.

      You know I feel so many emotions just now
      Because of all these writers, I just don't know how.

      For they are a driving force for me
      And part of my challenge each day is to make them see.

      That because of them I have to write
      Sometimes into the wee hours of the night.

      To pick a favorite writer is...well a difficult choice
      So I pick them all, because they shout with one voice.

      "Write, you fool, then write some more"
      Words I hear and cannot ignore.

      So I choose them all...all here in this group
      The ones who have made me hungry for Soup.

      There, I've said it...and you know that's not in haste
      The Soupers that are here are the best of all to taste.


      



Details | Rhyme | |

A New Morning

A new morning once again,
promising difference from others before.
Beautiful this morning as I write with pen
and I feel my spirit soar.

I cannot help but stand in awe
of all that I see before me.
Once again, I hear the call
to write of what my eyes see.

Quiet subdues the great expanse
of the forest to the mountains beyond.
A hawk overhead in the great distance
circles steadily and then is gone.

The sky takes on a hazy look
with the sun not quite coming through.
It is to me as if nothing took
away from this beautiful view.

This day for me holds promises anew
as I see it's quiet start.
Opportunities in this day will come to
strengthen and encourage my heart.


Douglas L. Ace


Details | Free verse | |

Dealing the cards

Come on artists
lets play a game
its all different to me and i want you to see how i am different
and let me shine as you sign up another way 
as i prove to you my leadership of this new age wave

cards cards
give them new meanings
like you never knew you could 
and lets make the psychics pine through our words to figure out
what they are reading and believing

I wanna see your hearts and spades
dressed in tall grass or lemonaide
i wanna see your cups and wands
inbetween whispering winds and songs lead me there
i know you can come on 
come on 
come on be strong 
like a suit of clubs or diamonds
show me something
and then sprinkle your writings
and we'll make collectors out of all those we invite here
as they read and ponder the meanings of our literature

whats in your hand?
a royal flush a pair?
and as we deal the cards they stumble upon at this endless game 
of cribbage or poker
or tarock
or war who is winning and getting points?
what card means what to who and why

tell me artist as you write with your style on low and high
what makes what suit smile and fade shine and slide?
inside outside sphere of influence
be their collective the object of the psychics to crave?

blind leading the blind
and something they are after for days and days

a few cards your favorite cards play smart or dumb
shuffle the cards pick a game deal a hand
reveal what your playing and one day i'll tell you what we're playing what your 
cards mean
if nothing
to someone one day when the stumble your way
the mystery of nothing speaks something
and we rebuild the puzzle of cartomancy better and better this way

just inspire
once you know you can't
blind leadin gthe blind
so after you read this you can't
play along your uninvited
strike it off your list of things to do
round one is over now go find all who wrote
all who write all who have wriitten the masterpieces
of cards and see what they mean today and collect them for that is something no 
one else can do
until round two....


Details | Lyric | |

Let’s Write A Poem

Here’s my plea: Let’s write a poem for the world to read;
And in it is a message that all can relate or heed;

Encourage others to pick a pen instead of a gun;
With this poem let people be taught to bond 

all spirits, whether in distress or in joy with a smile;
This poem we write be a reminder that life is fragile;

That peace is at hand, only if we want to achieve;
People will learn to greet enemies and they shall be received;

All of us can write, whether you’re white, black, or brown;
Just believe in what you can do; and not to aspire the crown

Of hate, if you dare tomorrow comes without tears,
Nor will there be worries of living in fears;

With this poem, people will burst not
In paroxysm of rage, but, be inspired to share a lot

Such as love, hope, or maybe, just give a friendly kiss;
You know, it’s easy to write a poem, than writing peace.


Details | Free verse | |

To Write Your Best

To write the finest poem that your heart and mind permit
You must let go of yourself and earthly bonds, dream vocally
Speak aloud in your mind of feelings, both good and bad
Let the words overcome you, present themselves to you
Take them, rearrange them and stir in deep meaning
Thereby touching on the heart of something that matters so
In other words, to write that one, that special one, let yourself go


Details | Rhyme | |

DIVINE INTERVENTION

I never write a poem
That doesn’t write itself.
I catch a buzz and come alive
Like a puppet off it’s shelf.

Hearing many voices,
Whose words are never mine.
My pen becomes a painter’s brush
Forming visions on a line.

I seem to be a better person,
When it’s time to sit down and write.
A higher power guides my hand,
Sharing wisdom by day and night.

People born to create,
Have no choice but to perform.
It’s the rush of sharing their gift,
That elevates them from the norm.

What would our world become,
Without intervention from above?
Angry beings in a revolving cage,
With no sense of passion or love.


Details | Verse | |

My Words

Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words, 
and not necessarily my reality;                                     
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing

You can be who you want to be on any level 
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;  
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys,                                                                        or places that some don’t even think exist

They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry 
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart 
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses  whether they are just cases, 
or me in the absolute right here

My words exude positive intentions; 
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections 
and reversed dejection  
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul 
and temptations

Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before         
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect 
according to divine order

They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time 
because up until now, 
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time 
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside – 
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice 
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words


Details | Free verse | |

Pienso, quiero y desearia

A veces, quisiera gritar,

Quisiera correr,

Quisiera reir,

Quisiera llorar,

Quisiera morir,

Quisiera iluminación,

Quisiera vivir,

Quisiera escapar,

Quisiera revivir...


A veces, pienso en ustedes,

Pienso en espacio,

Pienso nublado,

Pienso oscurecido,

Pienso esclarecido,

Pienso en transparencia,

Pienso en huesos,

Pienso en naturaleza,

Pienso en actuar,

Pienso en todo...


Desearía volver a amar como antes,

Desearía saber más allá,

Desearía expresar más de lo normal,

Desearía unas manos agarrar,

Desearía en hombros impregnar,

Desearía contigo llorar,

Desearía contigo caminar,

Desearía tus abrazos recibir,

Desearía mi corazón de plata y titanio arreglar,

Desearía mi mente repasar...


Desearía que no me traicionaran,

Desearía con besos y amistad despertar,

Desearía en un paraíso soñar,

Desearía a todos concientizar,

Desearía a todos impresionar,

Desearía construir nuevos horizontes,

Desearía adversidades borrar,

Desearía romper leyes,

Desearía ser libre,

Desearía a todos ayudar,

Aunque me cueste la vida...


Pienso en querer el deseo infinito,

Quiero un amor eterno,

Deseo uno amistad inquebrantable,

Para no morir más...


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Rhyme | |

Aka My Maze

Streaks of Ink, Across a blank page
Sounds of expression, to be released on stage
Words flow midair, only a chosen few understand
Emotions from each side, both beautiful & bland
Not your typical poet, nothing at all like the displays
So rare and unique, strong and bright like the morning rays
Words from experience, from dreams and my reality of life
Words form memories 
Memories of struggle, love and strife
No copy and paste, No stolen words here
These are cries from my heart 
Emotions created throughout the years 
Poetic Justice
A title I endure so deep
A gift from my God, I've chosen to keep
No particular topic, Just pure extacy from word play
Spilling these words brings me a high, I must say
A poet, A writer and a singer some days
I welcome you to the pieces of me 
My words shall guide you through my mind aka my maze.

Kioshi Love <3


Details | Personification | |

Puzzle Piece

A puzzle piece you are to me 
Like a vine without any leaves. 
Your heart is pure your soul is 
Gold, the sweetest thing I'll 
ever hold! A miracle in my eyes 
it seemed, knowing they said 
no babies for me! Always a 
surprise you seem to be just 
like a puzzle piece! At 9 months 
you walked but not until 4 did 
you first talk! Always a terror 
making a beautiful mess always 
a surprise that has yet to be 
met! The twists and turns I 
know we will see will seem 
somewhat like a roller coaster 
to me! The milestones and 
special gifts you bring will make 
my life seem Like a dream, my 
special boy I have always said 
How special I knew not till 
Aspergers they said! The 
journey will be trying the 
journey will seem long! But 
with our family together we will 
chug along! My special boy I 
love you so and cannot wait to 
see you mature and grow! Now 
we have a goal we have our 
dream you see to make you the 
perfect fitting puzzle piece!! 


Written by: Christina Kirks 
McCullouch 04/05/2012 For 
Jonathan S McCullouch Jr 
Mommy loves you to eternity 
and beyond! Forever and 
always!



Details | Narrative | |

Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch some pails of water
Jack climbed some trees while Jill was picking some pretty flowers

After some hours Jack realized that he was wasting time
So he called Jill to hurry up before ‘tis half past nine

So off they went to continue their very long journey
‘Till they passed by an old beggar and gave him some money

When they both reached the well Jack and Jill filled up their buckets
Near the well were some berries which they put in their pockets

When they reached home their momma and papa were so happy
For dinner they had meatballs and soup and chicken curry

 And five bags of bananas which a rich neighbor gave them
The good that you do to others will always be returned