Best Perseverance Poems
I know your heart is hurting
The pain is deep and real
Residing there for way too long
Without the chance to heal
Grief has since settled in your core
And you now see the damage done
The aches are felt in layers
Losses piled up, one by one
A big, brave step you took that day
Leaving that toxic life behind
You beared the wrath for many years
Ignoring how you felt inside
One can only persevere so long
Until you have to make a change
So, though the journey's scary now
And the road ahead feels strange
Be kind and patient with yourself
And soon you'll come to see
The timing of this moment
Is exactly what you need
For when your brokenness lets the light in
Rebuilding that valiant man inside
Keep the faith and stand your ground
And the Warrior in you will shine
The Ideals of Captain America
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Contest Judged: 11/16/2025 9:43:00 AM
( 3rd Place )
Written: October 22, 2025
Courage is waking when the night won’t end…
walking into the day on tired feet.
It is the quiet choice to help someone
even when your own heart feels heavy.
It is speaking what is right
even if your voice trembles.
It is staying when everyone else leaves
holding hope in small, stubborn ways.
Courage wears no crown of glory.
It bleeds in the dirt beside the fallen,
it lifts the shield even when the arm grows weak,
it fights not for victory
but because it must.
Courage is not the hero in a story,
it is the hand you reach out to another,
the deep breath you draw,
the step you force yourself to take,
even when fear feels louder than hope.
It is the soft voice inside that says;
"one more step"
the stubborn heartbeat that refuses to yield -
the quiet rise after every fall,
even when no one is there to see you stand.
Perseverance
We’ve a signed Thomas Kinkade painting that hangs in our home
which carries the name “Perseverance”.
I t was a Christmas present from dear friends,
and many times I’ve looked at this painting and quickly
remembered the letter that complemented it, which stated,
“My prayer is that when you look at this painting… you will be reminded that no matter what you’re going through right then…that God is faithful…
and after each storm… the sun will shine again. and one of these days...THE SON...will break through those clouds in the eastern sky…
and forever… we’ll be made whole.”
This has been such a strength as God brought me through difficult situations.
It’s been a constant reminder,
That Tough Old Birds Never Give Up
Tom
Hope is a feeling that people spend years believing in, not because it leads them to a place full of flowers,
but because it's the only thing anyone doesn't doubt. Then there is no difference between the lust of achieving and the act of believing in it.
And when that kind of soul grips the handle of the sword—the sword that once provided power to the soul who had lost everything to stand in the world—
that sword develops a second edge because of the one holding it, and it causes damage to both the good and the bad.
Hope is like a hill. If you think—you can walk on it as long as you have strength, believing that at the end you will achieve the salvation you always wanted.
You start to believe in the shadow of hope because it seems beautiful and sweet. To ask someone for your deeds, and to think they will fulfill your wish—that is belief, not hope,
because that is what people are running behind: doing good deeds by suffering so they don’t have to suffer after death.
But at the top of the hill there is no peak, because you never wanted to find it. That hill has lost its top now—it only has an edge where a man can see a flowing river of water.
And while looking at it, a man loses something: it could be belief or salvation, but not hope—
because it was lost when you laid your foot on the hill. That is when hope becomes belief, and that day, a side of humanity was born—one no soul had ever witnessed, yet one everyone became a part of.
Perseverance is surely the name of the game
With every challenge before you
It applies to the highest mountains you climb
Ignoring distractions is the clue
Roadblocks are there to test your patience
The glitter of gold clouds your eyes
Keep your nose to the proverbial grindstone
Much success will be yours by and by
I certainly haven't achieved all my goals
But employing this theory through the years
Has enabled me to increase the likelihood
Of avoiding many heartaches and tears
Working hard with the goal of cooperation
Bendability when shown a new path
You'll ultimately be placed in a higher standing
Great success will be yours at last
In closing please remember this friendly advice
To assist you in climbing life's tree
Compassion and patience are all important
But perseverance is surely the key
© Jack Ellison 2013
The trees bent and whispered to me
As the leaves began to cry in harmony.
The trees were under attack by the brutal wind.
The sky looked as if judgement was about to descend.
I stood transfixed at nature’s display of fury.
But the trees held their ground, in all their glory.
Perseverant and majestic, trees are God’s finest creation.
They give simple beauty, hope, and never-ending inspiration.
5/21/17
Basic Rhyming Words Contest
Sponsor: Ironic Zink
Awarded 3rd Place
Towering high the pine tree spies
Darkness gleaming across the skies.
All-embracing limbs it reaches
In all directions it beseeches.
Yearning for ominous actions to end
Locked they hide; secretly they offend.
Veiled is the door guarding treacherous fate
Never exposing; hold and isolate.
Looming colossal to pointed peak
Shadows adorn branches yearning to speak.
Piercing the court’s air the almighty giant cries
Wind: Roar. Needles: Skewer. Nothing it denies.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 19
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 10/3/2025 1:17:00 PM
( 1st Place )
Written: September 27, 2025
No one calls her name
past the silent edge of her house.
No family voice calls her name.
The house is bare,
The quiet coils around her chest
heavy as a winter frost.
Empty shelves murmur back her longing.
No bread, no work,
only the rasp of breath stitching the silence
to measure the day.
The table bears a chair no one will fill…
she keeps it there
though no one comes.
It listens when she cannot speak,
it holds her secrets while the world looks past.
She cannot speak;
the streets do not bend to hear her grief.
People move past like shadows,
her sorrow clinging to the chill air,
her need folding into the city’s pulse.
Under the cloak of darkness...
she reaches for a mother long gone,
the hands that once held storms at bay,
the lullabies that stitched the dark
with tenderness.
Now even memory aches like an open wound.
And still—
each morning she rises,
pulls her body from the weight of despair,
plants her soles on the frost of morning
and begins again.
Not because it is easy,
not because someone will notice,
but because life…
even in its harshest silence…
demands she endure.
Spring
becomes
aggressive
as it campaigns
for the earth to spurt
forth resplendent colors
splayed in intricate patterns
that display the vibrancy and
toughness of reemerging flora.
Inspiring era of new beginnings!
Twenty politicians standing on a wall
Oh what fun to see some fall,
Blabber, blabber, rue the day
They talk and talk but little say.
Yet they shout and argue too
About what I challenge you
To then repeat what they have said,
The mere thought just blows my head.
Each loves the sound of their own voice
And stand before us all by choice,
To have us judge who it shall be
With each one saying, me me me.
But like Pied Piper with his flute
The call to watch we can’t refute,
We sit and stare, comment and whine
As some just flounder past the line.
Yet for one the end is sweet
The entire cake they’ll get to eat,
Battered, bruised and mighty sore
Now almost at that White House door.
the s e a
remembers the taste
of cinnamon sunsets~
the essence of
emerald embers
and resonances of petrichor
when the tides tremble
in turquoise delight,
amidst the marine snakes
slithering through
oceanic echoes,
mirroring Medusa melodies
in envious tones.
and as the morning
stars nestle in the
wildflower warmth
of the honeyed sun,
wine-red ink
flows within midnight
vines in vain,
aching to be heard,
while the jealous jasmines
jinx the sanguine spirit
of January garnets
I wear in
grace and gratitude.
yet if my sky knows
not the colors of darkness,
would the moon still
be my poetic savior?
silently sewing sequins of solace
to the fabric of love,
floating like cosmic candles,
elegantly emanating
perfumed perseverance
for I am the silhouette
of the horizon
wrapped in a plethora of
p e a c e lilies,
sprouting in the
glistening garden
of gossamer verses,
finding roseate reasons to rhyme,
when eclipsed
is the luna-light
and monsoon monsters
are the cynical spectators,
knocking on my canvas
with needles and nails
sharpened with
paper-thin confetti
of resentful remorse.
but I ponder,
will the blind still feel
the storms I breathe
and the strength I wear
to waltz through wicked weeds,
eager to chain unspoken needs?
this is me running from the toxic rain,
pushing me back into
the twilight zone,
where I surf
through nothingness,
engrossed in timeless trust,
tied to written tranquility,
manifesting magnetic waves
of inner truce and magic
as the sea remembers
the serenade of serenity
and the sky knows
the metaphors to merge
winds of love and
waves of kindness.
In the voyage of life when we set sail
Let patience allied with perseverance
Be the bacon light for us to avail
In the warm summer of exuberance
As in the wild, wobbling winter of gloom
When wilful wintry winds whirl us to doom;
When whooping waves waft the frame of our boat
Let's not give way to shadows of despair,
But hold on steadfast and keep on afloat;
When stormy gusts try our sails to lay bare
Let's brace ourselves with power of the will
And determination as a firm shield.
Let's not try to touch the sky at a stretch
As we may never meet the horizon,
Let's not try heaven to reach at a breath
As we may tumble in the ocean,
Let's move on step by step as the clock's chime,
Sail on steadily, a knot at a time.
Patience is a gift bestowed by the Lord
A balm that soothes the soreness of stress
A precious jewel seemly to afford,
And perseverance the key to success
The spirit that drives man to sail ahead,
The essence of efforts that are sacred.
When setting sail on an unknown voyage
It's fitting to have faith in the dIvine,
Who escorts our steps at every life's stage
Ever guides our path across space and time
With patience to earn the Lord's sublime grace
And with perseverance to win the race.
“With patience and perseverance
We can win the hardiest race.”- By author
**************************************************************
Patience and Perseverance
On the journey of life when we embark
Let patience allied with perseverance
Be the lighthouse, our path to lit with spark
And permeate our spirit with endurance;
When wilful whirling winds waft down our soul
Let us not yield to dark clouds of despair
But forge ahead steadfast towards our goal
Without a single shaggy seam of scare;
Let`s not try the hilltop at once to clinch
As we may tumble down a dizzy slope
But, move forward step by step, inch by inch
With patience and perseverance to cope;
With patience we earn the Lord`s divine grace,
With perseverance we win the tough race.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 21
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 10/15/2025 7:16:00 PM
( 4th Place )
Written: October 9, 2025
Kindness has no name, no face,
no place to rest…
It moves steadily through raging winds.
A hand reaches out when the wind bites
a smile eases the heaviest burdens.
I move beneath skies streaked with smoke,
through war, through chaos,
through unending trials.
Yet a single ember clings to its glow
a light refusing to be swallowed by shadow.
Winds bite at me,
words strike my heart—
each one a threat to my flame.
They come too close
and I pause for a heartbeat,
still, caught in one fragile moment.
Step by step, I move on,
breath by breath,
courage held tight in my chest.
Each insult becomes a stone to climb,
each hardship shapes my bones.
The ground presses firm beneath my feet,
yet I keep moving, quietly, steadily.
I hold the flicker of small delights,
shimmering softly across the frostbound ground,
a sanctuary where harshness cannot enter.
Where frost might settle, warmth remains.
Strength winds through the cracks of stone.
When the storm softens at last,
I lift my eyes toward the far horizon…
light spilling over shadowed walls,
the road before me waiting to be walked.
Each step firm, each measured breath,
every heartbeat that will not break
carries me into dawn.
lilac lullabies
black and yellow butterflies
cotton candy blue skies
field and house work once idealized
perfect dreams
imperfectly fantasized
tangled with filthy truths and honorable lies
every night they listen and console
uplifting the spirits of one another
chanting we will not let them see our cries
noise silences the chastised
perseverance overcomes the spark in their eyes
this too shall pass, in the end a better tomorrow lies
fully aware the sun will continue to rise
hope kept them focused and willing to strive
mentally trapped yet conscious of the
planned infiltrated compromise
oppressors remain confused of their laughter
it was incomprehensible and quite taken by surprise
under the impression everything had been stripped from them
the ancestors were found uplifted every morning
still walking about lilacs singing lullabies
smiling at the sight of black and yellow butterflies
dancing under cotton candy blue skies