Can you imagine a world that has only peace and the word war
Living as equals so there is nothing to fight for
Can you imagine a world where there will be no more sin and nobody ever mentions the colour of your skin
Can you imagine a world where you still have a choice
Where we all stand together, talking with one voice
Can you imagine a world where there is no hunger or starvation?
Standing together, not strangers but as one nation
Can you imagine a world where your religion is your choice?
When all the world is prying, they are heard in one voice
Can you imagen a world where you can stop people dying
Mend broken hearts and stop the painful crying
Can you imagine a world no longer broken and torn apart,
If you could have a world of peace, where would you start
I used to think I carried too much
I realize now I was the one being carried
I disguised pride as humble undertaking
My faith was weak because it was in me
Today I cried out in tears of joy so fierce it felt angry
That joy was merely the floodgates of recognition
To finally realize all life's blessings carried to me
Like a bread line wrapped around corners of buildings
I have been carried all my life by God
My armor feels made of second chances
My faith has finally toughened despite years of boasting about it
I'm quieter now — this faith is strong but quiet
It sits in my bones behind my new gray hairs
I shall rest now, thanks to faith's many gifts: resilience.
TRUMP AT 33
FOR ALL THE COUNTRY TO SEE
CARNEY 70
Gold rises first~
sunflowers flaring,
their ragged halos trembling
like small suns caught mid-breath.
They lean toward the room
as if listening for daylight,
as if remembering
the warm dust of noon.
Beside them, dusk u
n
f
u
r
l
s~
irises in violet folds,
midnight pooled at their throats,
blue ink gathering
where shadow meets stem.
They stand in cool defiance,
a quiet evening hum
held in their narrow leaves.
Together they make an entrance~
heat braided with shadow,
a dialectic of color
held in one trembling vase,
where joy and sorrow
glow side by side
in strokes that pulse
with Van Gogh’s heart and soul.
In the misty dawn,
Gently rising hope
Praising, a poem
Written by the sun
Who has melted night
With her still beauty
At five, whole world a wondrous gleam,
A bottomless, bright, benign dream,
Each step a secret, shine so bright,
Moments like fleeting sunbeams’ light.
Fifteen years, a smooth shifting tide,
Where fervent feelings faintly hide,
A quest for self, a whispered plea
Of who I am eternally.
Thirty now, the path quite defined,
With purpose clear and heart entwined,
A steady stride, a settled grace,
Carving own dreams in time and space.
At fifty, wisdom starts to bloom,
Dispelling shadows, chasing gloom,
Reflecting past sweet or sour years,
In the span of time, without fears.
At seventy, some desired rest,
Where peace and quietness are blessed,
A life well lived, a journey's end
On loved ones, memories, depend.
HOGATH
Shrimp girl
another arrow to his quiver
hogarth's lass near the river
Witty Will from London town
With his art acted the clown
They said he could not paint flesh or blood-
His 'Shrimp Girl' disproves this lie
When he gave portraiture a try.
Tribute-William Hogarth 1687-1764
Lines are short, abrupt, and broken up staccato like
Poet Gertrude Stein
had a staccato style quite fine
She also became a Cubist
& with prose poetry for a while did persist
Maya carried fire in her
Throat.
And elegance in her traverse
The kind of woman who
Could
Burna truth into the world
And still leave the room
Sensing like grace.
She didn't raise her voice-
She raised her standards,
Made people checked themselves
Before they nudged her name.
Her words walked in heels,
Her presence walked in purpose,
And her silence
Could humble a whole
Assembly
Without breaking a sweat.
Maya taught us
That class isn't softness-
It's Discipline,
It's dignity,
It's knowingwhen to speak
And when to let your legacy
Do the talking.
She lit fires
Without burning bridges,
Told truths
Without losing poise,
And rose
Without stepping on
Anyone
Who wasn't trying to hold
Her down.
And me?
I honor her every time I write
With backbone and polish,
Everytime I let my fire
Show
Without it scorch my class.
This is my ode-
Street rooted,
Fire forged,
Class carried-
To Maya Angelou,
The woman who proved
That rising
Is an art form.
go on and on and on,
in a non-obvious way
an otherworldly glow
red and white
crystal-filled rock
Making time to go back in Time,
Will get back what was thought lost for all Time.
Time after time,
When I have listened to my inner voice,
My guardian Angel,
Who works over time,
And I have gone back in Time,
To retrieve items
when others said I was wasting my Time,
That the item was lost for all Time.
Only two days ago,
My Guardian Angel alerted me in Time,
To retrieve my wallet before I lost it for all Time,
So back in time I did go,
To the bus stop Seat,
To find my wallet on that very seat,
Something others thought an impossible feat.
I do hope you have taken the time,
To go over very line,
I have written down for all Time
So you next Time,
You think an item lost for all Time,
You will remember in Time,
My poem on making the Time,
To go back in time,
To avoid standing in line,
To report your crime,,
Of failing to go back in time.
Ah mess-with a message so, with all her trials and tribulatios she became a mess so messed up she
cried out,Jesus why this is,he replied,i have prepared you-you are my messenger.
Ah mess-conditioned to be a light,referenced to by many for hope and retreat from despair. Those who are fortunate to cross her path may casually say lightly-she's ah mess! and thank God they
partaked of her light,wisdom,guidance,and laughter-
God's messenger.
If I die young,
bury me in satin —
lay me down gentle,
on a bed of roses.
Let the river take me,
but send me away
with the words of a love song.
When the world reminds you of me,
write me a poem.
Not just any poem,
a love poem —
one that keeps me close, even after.
INTO THE LIGHT
Out of the
darkness of night,
the horizon has dawned.
Soon, I and all glowed
In reality’s delight:
God having me witness
Another day’s light:
Dawned with His
Divine wisdom
And guidance.
I write of heartbreak, fears and tears
But then somedays, His love He shares
I hear His kindness in the voice of rain
He’s the wonder that comforts all my pain
Beneath the echoes of my deepest prayers
Shadows and feelings, blessings and cares
Beneath all the yearnings, are praises galore
For the One who created me, the One I adore
I write of dreams, still breath of spring and fall
The voice of winter is found in each distant call
But, mostly, I believe He touched my very soul
With love that reassures, love that makes me whole
I write to you, my fellow believer, my brother
I write of this joy and peace found in no other
He is the answer to every need, every desire
His love is wise and strong, it’s like a burning fire
Beyond the tears that seem to overwhelm me
There is a blessing of His grace, making me see
He tells us of His kindness with each rising sun
But nothing is more wonderful than His only Son!
Appreciation Categories
Definition | What is Appreciation in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
gratitude, thanks, recognition, acknowledgment, indebtedness, obligation, tribute, testimonial, gratefulness, inflation, growth, gain, improvement, rise, enhancement, admiration, perception, love, knowledge, commendation, enjoyment, sensitivity, awareness, understanding, sympathy