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Inspiration Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Inspiration

These Inspiration Prose Poetry poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Inspiration. These are the best examples of Inspiration Prose Poetry poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry |

Seasons and Imaginations


Wind so cold.
Blowing.
Fondles my face.
Tickling.
The tears from heaven.
Pouring. 
Tapping. 
Dancing.
Unrelenting.
I wonder if i wish
    to stop them
From numbness,
    to waking,
          then sensing.

The little voice in me says,
Wait, don't go.
Stay a little longer. I plead.
Sing for me today, rain.
With the rhythm on my imagined piano,
                                                  I'll play.
Chilly Wind, caress my bare skin 
     with the pure coldness that you bring.
Unusual,
     like it's my first time in the snow.
Somehow, 
     the fire tree never fades in the picture.
The yellow sunkissed leaves, too.
What is it about Summer and Fall
    that I can't forget?
Memories. Sweet imaginations.

The chilly rain. The misty wind.
You are here. 
Freeze me with the sharp coldness you give.
Calm me. Maybe, comfort me.
And, if you leave
Will you visit me when summertime comes?
Before it gets too late
   And again I fold.



Details | Prose Poetry |

A Child's Peace

Tell me of your peace. 
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place 
As it gently sloughs the pain away 
Tell me of your peace 
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind 
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace 
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know 
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease, 
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here 
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now 
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies 
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free 
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within 
Waiting for you
For you to let it be


Details | Prose Poetry |

Language Barrier

I couldn’t understand the language she spoke,

at least not all of it,

but the emotion pouring past her lips, 

the tears in her eyes, her clenched and shaking fists

enunciated more clearly,

than any piece of English Poetry I had ever read,

and grabbed me, held me still.

                   …In that moment, her soul was in my arms.

In that finite, tender breath of our lives,

she was my mother, my best friend…

but I could not console her. 

I didn’t have the words;

and my heart sank into the 

concrete between us,

wet with the pain of God’s rain

and her tears. 

                  …Were my tears

So, I simply opened my palms

toward her crouched form and 

spoke the only words I could 

fathom, that would be accepted

by a stranger on a dangerous street. 

"I am sorry, It will be okay. God will bless you."

I knew she did not understand…

"Lo siento" 

                  “que va a estar bien”    

                            “Dios te bendecira’ “ 

the words were as messy as the overturned

duffle bag at her feet…and fumbled, slowly

from my lips, as my knees hit the street.

Two strangers, cried in the rain,

knowing nothing of each other’s suffering,

and yet we shared the weight,

together, for those few moments;

the barrier of language was broken.

Love spoke for us.  

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

…Love transcends any language

               


Details | Prose Poetry |

Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"


Details | Prose Poetry |

How Poetry Become You

                                  ~How Poetry Become You~

Today my thoughts were feeling melancholic, my silence minutes later fought back to help me reach out to the moment of relief and not to relinquish myself. 

Today my thoughts were trying to sing, my silence started to enjoy the music 
since poetry became part of my life, it helped me to remove any negative influences.

When my thoughts fought with me not to write, my silence thought I must hold tight and not fight, nor run away, but keep typing as poetry will allow you to discover yourself, and the whole world.

One day my thoughts were never awakened by a passer by, my silence started to weep, moments later a bird stood at the window and brought joy to my hear, thats when I wanted to love and loose my reasoning, to celebrate a new day.

When my thoughts wanted to fly away, my silence insisted I should stay to give myself feeling of safety, and remember never to get discouraged nor weaken, as that would destroy my wisdom and my poetic life, instantly I felt more powerful. 

My thoughts woke up much much to tired to live, my silence reminded me that the heart has its own reasons which the mind knows nothing about.
That day my thoughts wanted to travel and feel happy, my silence created for me a beautiful idea to carry on the plane, a poetry book to read through the sources of knowledge.

My thoughts one night wanted to dream and could not, my silence thought, don't ever feel sorry for yourself, another night will shortly be here, reach out for your poems, read them and peace will prevail.
On a new day my thoughts broke my heart, my silence insisted I should start going back home be alone, and not sit by the phone and wait. Enjoy the moment.

Its hard to write like a very talented writer, the reason is, every human being does not have the same brain, the same diversities, the same creativities, and 
inspirations, that is why, I took a walk between the trees wanting to feel that soft breeze pleading to come along my way that beautiful day in May.                 
                    
           When my thoughts woke up my heart started to beat
                  I know I can, I know I must, I know I could,
                     I know I would, my silence answered, 
                      I know you should, you should Now,
                       Remember Poetry Has Become You.      

                                        Therese Bacha                                           
                                           3/6/2013


Details | Prose Poetry |

Patience

PATIENCE

We hear that patience is a virtue 
Is this true, or simply virtual reality 
When leaders are teaching our youth; 
do as I say, not as I do 
Regression to a version of the American 
truth

Impatience is becoming intolerance 
But to be patient is viewed as ignorance 
In a blind world conforming to violence 
Very few see need for benevolence

Many view crime as way of life 
Government fuels fires, causing strife 
Committing true crime with their lack of 
pride 
Our country torn by those who lied

Promoting bigotry and distaste for the 
unknown
 But these days color and homosexuality 
are lactose free 
Intolerant of equality, it’s a problem, 
clearly 
Love is love, embrace the hate 
Hold it tightly until it sees the light

Peace pushed just beyond our reach 
We realize that “hope and change” was 
just a speech 
Wars raging through the land we call 
home 
In God we trust, not this powerful regime

Speak out now with virtuous impatience 
Change is change no matter how small 
the feat
Restore hope with unfaltering acceptance 
and grace 
Serve what you stand for, no time left to 
waste


Details | Prose Poetry |

Getting Older

          Getting Older

Young man sitting next to me on the bench I asked him,
Young man if I am sad what will you do? I will ask you to share your sadness.
Young man if I am cold what will you do? I will cover you with my coat.
Young man if I am angry what will you do? I will listen and help you forgive. 
Young man if I am standing what will you do? I will give you my place.
Young man if I am crying what will you do? I will wipe your tears & enlace you.
Young man if I am hungry what will you do? I will give you my sandwich.
Young man if I am sleepy what will you do? I will cradle you.
Young man if I need a friend what will you do? I will befriend you forever.
Young man if I am lonely what will you do? I will take you in and look after you.
Young man if I am lost what will you do? I will hold you to find your way back.
Young man if I want to kill myself what will you do? I will forbid you to do that.
Young man if I want my children what will you do? I will locate them for you.
Young man can you get me off this bench walk me to the bank, yes of course.  
Arrived at the bank holding her hand she went to the teller told him to get her out 50.0000$. Thank you for sitting on the bench with me. Remember this day
Its a Thanksgiving gift.

    Therese Bacha
   15/3/2013


Details | Prose Poetry |

Familiarity

What is it to me
that I cannot place you
in the picture painted by the years
the life has already spent?
Do you merely lurk,
and leave at a much later time?
Or, 
maybe
you are staying
because 
    you 
        are 
           meant
                to 
                   stay.

Then,
stay.
If you may.
I pray.
While I find a place (for us)
in the picture of eternities,
the gods must be 
hiding, 
conspiring;
themselves amusing.


Ah, the grand scheme of things -
                            a forgetting.
A familiar spirit we feel -
                            a remembering.     


(Note) This piece was inspiredly written for the beautiful souls - even the strangers - I have met along the way and will still come upon in my lifetime. To each special one, you have stirred quite a familiar spirit within. A remembrance of forgotten past, I suppose. Thank you for letting me peak through your soul's window. The veil of forgetfulness has never been thin as now to me. You have so given me a gift I shall treasure in the moments I may tend to forget who I truly am - a being with a soul.



Details | Prose Poetry |

The Rain-bow Nation

Hey!
are 
you 
a 
Zulu? 
Am 
a 
Bushman...no 
you 
are 
a 
Bantu,a 
Bantu 
or 
Hottentots? 
Maybe 
an 
Afrikaner.                          
I 
came 
from 
the 
Cape 
Colony...not 
from 
Soweto 
where"balck 
animals"are 
Dwelling, 
pathetic 
Creatures 
formed 
by 
the 
Hands 
of 
Hades.
Beast 
of 
burden 
for 
the 
Afrikaner.
Bound 
with 
fetters 
and 
Chains,it 
ploughs 
the 
Field,cultivates 
and 
plants 
The 
seed 
of 
sedition..alas!
These 
beasts 
un-
wind 
their 
yokes;to 
be 
human.
Can 
a 
leopard 
change 
its 
Spots?
Yes 
these 
animals
Prophesied.
Lo!
what 
do 
I 
now 
see?
No 
Beast 
of 
burden 
to 
till 
our 
Land 
rather 
they 
dwell 
Among 
us.
Alas! 
their 
prophecy 
lives!


Details | Prose Poetry |

Up in Smoke it's Reality

Fantasy like Reality can be a disappointment...
Clearing the Air........

He worshipped her from afar...
He had since he was three..
He hid it well , no one knew...
She was his heart’s desire...
With her big bright eyes and her winning smile..
He never thought she would beguile...
Then he turned ten and it was clear..
It had been she who did inspire...
this young man ,with his heart on fire... 
He arrived at seven in the morn...
To help prepare the feast de jour...
He stuffed the bird and chose to make..
Her favourite dessert...fresh Raspberry cake..
He feverishly cut and whipped and stirred..
Grandpa ‘s little helper was becoming quite the gourmet chef...
Then came the time to shower, and get dressed...
He chose his wardrobe carefully...
Making sure that he looked and smelled hmmm good....
She arrived and you could see him beaming proudly...
Everyone feasted on the bird and ate their fill...
He waited on her as I watched..
No one even blinked an eye..
They spoke for what seemed an eternity..
His face could be read for all to see...
Then out of the blue, she excused herself..
And went out on the patio to puff some stuff...
His face went white, I could see his plight..
She chose to be with others you see..
Who foolishly did an atrocity...
The one he worshiped from afar..
Went up in smoke...as she smoked her cigar...


 


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