These Uplifting Ode poems are examples of Ode poems about Uplifting. These are the best examples of Uplifting Ode poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Just a girl in a room, sitting on the floor,
I can see her in this window, but I see no door
Crying her song of anguish, of this unspeakable pain,
Has every intention never to feel it again
I rock, I tremble, my life is at cost
All I know is this shell, for it's myself...my core...my all I have lost
From the start I new this fight could only last so long,
I aimed to defeat it, striving to remain strong
Each day in and day out, facing the demon, fighting the doubt
At a moment with no warning, without any clue
I was losing my strength...my energy...all the will I once knew
For now, my all is lost, my memories are faint,
There is no pretty picture left for me to paint
This girl on the floor, in this empty room
Was this girl condemned for a life of doom
My tears disappeared, like they'd never been there
Dried up with my soul, the time is clear
Wanting to shake her, make her open her eyes
To show some hope, the blue is still in the skies
Then, out of nowhere, I found the door
I wanted to save the girl on the floor
As I neared and inched to her close
She wasn't that girl, what I saw was a ghost
As I turned to walk out, stopped by a noise
I heard the laughter of girls and of boys
With that came a voice of peace and of grace
She told me, she's happy, no-more demon for her to face
I am calmed, I'm reassured, I'm no longer in pain
She was the broken me, but now I am strong again
Sobriety is the song I sing
Away from all their life's sting
For I detest surrounded minds
Hate their witnessed shame
Acting as though they are lame
Sobriety is the whistle I blow,
To cool their inebriated thoughts,
Whether fast or just slow
I teach them the right path to crawl,
So to avoid the brawl
Sobriety is the story I tell,
Scalpel in hand below the light above,
To the coated who wish to serve,
And not their steadiness to sell,
If they need to go deep and safely out
Sobriety is the letter I write,
To the young and blind,
Before their eyes they do unfold,
to see what waits ahead,
Lest their future they grind
Sobriety is the air I breath,
Into the nostrils of they
They who know not the way,
Who had lost but the brightness of their day
Who had nothing to say
The ladder backed pecker,
like a prison uniform.
Caught-up in exposing
the truth beneath the bark,
of the poet's apple tree.
We prefer ourself in spring;
with tiny little flowers,
and the fruit of possibility.
Yet, if not for the woodpecker,
tapping holes into poems,
we might not ever see
the flesh and blood of raw meat.
I will climb that ladder back,
escape pre-decreed standards.
Tap into that syrupy mixture
and suck-out truth from hard wood.
Yes, lessons from a jail bird.
A pest in the Avian Kingdom.
Wisdom from the little rebel,
beat-out of a tree.
I am woman,
I am Woman,
I am Woman,
I am Woman,
Fear me because I am:
Pretty, sassy, smart, independent!
Fear me because these things
Are a danger mix and explosive combination
Fear me because one day
You'll have to answer to me.
Fear me because soon you'll look up
For advice and I'll be the face there.
Fear me because to you
Women should have no power.
Fear me because to me
I will have more power than you.
I am a woman,
I am a Woman!
FIRE IS COMING!
FIRE IS COMING!
GET PREPARED,THE BRIDE GROOM IS COMING
THE BRIDE GROOM IS COMING
FIRE IS COMING!
THE TRUMPET SHALL SOUND
GOD CHOSE THE LIGHT'S HE HAVE FOUND
THOSE WHO ENDURED THIS LIFE SHALL BE CROWNED
FOR THE DISOBEDIENT WILL BE LEFT BEHIND
TAKEN CAPTIVE BY THE ENEMIES MIND
ALTHOUGH,FEW SHALL REMAIN
HIS MERCY STILL REMAINS THE SAME
A REMNANT STRONG ENOUGH TO ENDURE
SATAN'S ATTACK OF HIS FILTHY LUCRE
A tribute to a wonderful friend who was taken from us by cancer.
She Had Wings
SHE HAD WINGS, SHE COULD LIFT US UP
WHEN OUR WORLD SEEMED TOO HEAVY
WINGS OF LOVE, ALWAYS OPEN WIDE
TO SOOTHE A WOUNDED SOUL
THOUGH SORROW FILLS OUR HEARTS, REJOICE THAT
GOD HAS FILLED HIS PROMISE
AND ANGELS HAVE A ROOM NEXT TO HIS THRONE
YOU SEE, SHE WAS NEVER OURS TO CALL OUR OWN
SHE HAD WINGS, AND NOW SHE’S FLYING HOME
I never met Grandpa
so I do not know
if he ever went dancing
or stubbed his toe.
But I do know
Grandma loved him.
And Grandma died
when was in 8th grade.
So we didn't talk
I am afraid.
But I do know
Grandpa loved her.
Alms Inn, there is the place again, and here
I, far away, muse in the house I grew
O this village of my love, has grown too
The golden hills with lilacs filled, the sweet
Soft of morning dew, and my dusty feet
Leaving his brighter sun for school and care
Whilst he with poetic dreams filled the air
And orange blossoms buzz with fragrance fair
And O, orange blossoms buzz when
In my mind I hear his voice again.
Father, fragile though festive fold of hills
Where drought walks dissonant on dribbled dreams
Your memory abides here still, and bright streams
Of laughter where you paced or sat unveiling
History and poetry and farmed feeling
Of the world. Like a nightingale's voice spills
Through the village gate, sublime as sacred thrills
The organ dissipates, and crannies fills
With thy deep eloquence and pride
And thy wide eyed child by your side.
Regal of an African line, birth low
Amidst the Maroon bramble, up you came
Out of the German mire of blood, a flame
Carrying bushman and midwife through night
The falcon feathered for the frolic of flight
Over foreign spires, in the bright rainbow
Father, still your footsteps that path does show
Mud deep, bright towards the future we go
Athlete, scholar, tempest and mist
Man above men will foes insist
And I today churn in praise my new lines
Waking like a womb of fresh beginnings
A virgin voyage of my form, deep gleanings
Of the mind's creativity. I bring
It, tribute to you, blush before my king
For whose awesome form my love matchless pines
Seeking your worth in joys of new designs
To carve your honor on our human minds
First of our black place to unfold
Upon white space petals of gold.
This proud veterinarian, this wave
That pulse across the Caribbean's shores
This first in rank in all the shackled chores
This noble patron of the arts, this child
Of business, that upward through nights here toiled
To say I am free, stir now gloomy grave
You shall not hold him forever a slave
When jubilee comes, and our God shall save
For of all the joys that is known
He loved his God, and grace was shown
Time and us are leashed memories
With time I tell love's true stories
And so its oft, when love in fancy strays
I to Alms Inn, where my boyhood still plays
In St. Elizabeth, behind the brimmed drays
Here in white pattern of dust I reclaim
The glory of my father, all my name
For we are nothing who have no past, sir
No identity the shard soul to stir
Shorn from the traditions of father's ways.
BLACK MAN BLACK BROTHER STAND PROUD AND BE TALL, IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO LEAVE THOSE PRISON WALLS.
IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO TEACH OUR YOUNG MEN HOW TO BE A FATHER AND A MAN,
BLACK MAN BLACK BROTHER STAND PROUD AND BE TALL, GOD GAVE YOU THE WISDOM AND THE KNOWLEDGE AND UNDERSTANDING THAT'S WHY YOU ARE BEING REPRIMANDED,
BLACK MAN BLACK BROTHER IT'S TIME TO LEAVE THOSE PRISON WALLS
BLACK MAN BLACK BROTHER STAND PROUD AND BE TALL.
THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOU TO GET IT TOGETHER, BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T YOU WILL BE LOST FOREVER,
BLACK MAN BLACK BROTHER STAND PROUD, BE TALL,
IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO LEAVE THOSE PRISON WALLS.
GIVE GOD THE GLORY, FOR THESE ARE THE LAST DAYS, DON'T BE ASHAMED TO GIVE HIM PRAISE, HE'S GIVING YOU A CHANCE TO REACH OUT TO HIM, DON'T BE AFRAID OR YOU'LL EITHER SINK OR SWIM.
SO MY BROTHERS, IT'S TIME TO LEAVE THOSE PRISON WALLS
BLACK MAN BLACK BROTHER STAND PROUD AND BE TALL
THIS IS DEDICATED TO ALL THE BROTHERS IN PRISONS AND TIME TO COME HOME
Rain drops pounding upon my window pane,
Oh joy! Not the foreboding sound of gloom.
The sun blotted from the sky by gray rain
bringing harmony and flowering blooms.
I hear the distant sky's waning thunder.
The catharsis of mother earth's womb shares
the joys of rebirth in the winds chorus
with the sound of wonder.
In the warmth of my home, my soul declares;
the rain has come to relieve me from stress.
Shall I take a sweet nap or lose control?
In my flannel pajamas, I delight
in quiet time alone, feeding my soul.
First, sleep with dreams, love caressed in starlight.
Hand-in-hand, a stroll under silver moon.
Awakened by a gentle kiss to spark
feelings stolen by my mundane routines.
With flower petals strewn,
moistened blooms beckon me out to the park
to skip and splash like a child in blue jeans.
Rain still pours from the sky as I reach home
for a matinee, Singin' in the Rain.
Cozy with hot tea, no more need to roam.
Warm, content feelings, I cannot contain.
Gene Kelly inspires me to leave my bed
dancing through my house with full abandon.
Music plays loudly, I'm liberated.
A gray day turns bright red.
As I dance, ducks splash outside on my lawn.
My tired body feels rejuvenated
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for An Ode to Small Comforts on a Rainy Afternoon contest (Cyndi MacMillan)