Started Poems - Poems about Started

Just getting started Who left the lion free cos God took away my sorrows Now I bounce back The love is obvious The feeling is clear My heart is open Forward ever My soul is willing Their is no holiday for a poet Everyday is an inspiration The energy never mute Either do my frequency die One...

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I traipse my fingers delicately across spiralled letters of each written word and dated times The clumsily transitioned Thoughts are transferred on to pages full of Passion and expressive rhyme. Splattered,stained and ink spilled journal, with it's torn ridge spine ,misspellings and crooked lines , Reading the moment a daydreaming story teller and her poetic...

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It Started With A Promise It started with a promise A sacred trust we made when we were young. Through happiness and tragedy that Sacred bond enabled both of us to carry on. Standing beside me with your hand in mine You helped me face my darkest days, And your promise you would stay by my side Forever...

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One day I decided a book I wanted to write, ,,Waiting on the back of the line" - pushing myself backwards. But everything has to need sense set me of, writing structure is though. It isn't natural to me. Every Story aligns with me but it doesn't make sense, while people take the chance by grabbing the pen. It's...

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He threw the towel into the ring It bounced back up and started to swing Realizing he had no right to quit He pulled himself up and landed a hit… He waved a white flag at the challenge, plain to see ...

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Looking back on when we were Young so long ago It's so sad When I think of all the things we had And magical things we used to do Fate and providence Brought us together Fate and providence tore us apart I gave you the world And you took my heart so true Forever and ever it belongs to you No one has...

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It's thrilling But so is this poem I want to take up a most profound authority Throughout the neighbourhood A village pastor And various pursuits of a similar kind Give me my own planet My own earf Postmodernist scumbag And cowboys from hell days I want to hear the new Beyonce album Between the buried and me I am a cloud cuckoo lander And wear a wig when...

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The master artist stroked with his brush of beneficence The canvas relented. There, hence, blossomed magnificence. Each stroke gave birth to a rainbow of multi-hued images. Each dot gleamed, as though waiting to be alive for long ages. Trees, shrubs, and herbs; hills, mountains, fountains, rivers, and oceans The galaxies, heavens, and Hades each depicted his notions. Ponds, lakes, and waterfalls—...

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They say the sun has a way with searing our sights, maybe it just might, But stars could swoop through the obscurity, blazing in a sea of absence, Broadcasting its beams and banners like a school of piranhas diving into the deep, What is it about love that makes bravery such a charming challenge, Why do your...

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he throws snowballs at buses but now is able to memorably convey experiences using iambic dimeter creating an impersonality vidya games and spondee he threw my bicycle in the river now juxtaposing contrasting stuff side by side heroic couplets passive aggressive ballads caesura; and brexit geezer he said my inflections and monosyllables were slick and sick; cowboy poetry his first poem is called "no one understands...

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It started with a blank canvas when I was twelve. I started seeing this vision and I knew it was not a dream for I always saw the vision when I was awake and about. It started blank, all white, just like a blank canvas. Soon there were sketches of images, images that soon turned into blue skies and...

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Love is a blank canvas, a phantasmagoric fantasy, to pucker up with glossy lips, the subtle soft brush against the opposite sex, with eye-shades drawn. Love doesn’t know the body yet, still sizing it up. It doesn’t know the femininity and masculinity of art. O Leonardo…O Romeo…Ah Juliet…O Venus! Love craves the parts that match up, some the same, others staining the...

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It started with a stamped canvas Long, long ago, long, long ago To be prettier than dianthus Finished it'd put on a great show Long, long ago, long, long ago The embroidery done in detail When finished a lesson bestow Remembering now the tales I could tale A few stitches remain to be sown 'Pon that piece started when you were born Long, long ago,...

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I stood in front of the canvas, I had a story to tell, I had images impressed in my chamber, Visions in my night’s sojourn. I started stroke by stroke, I painted brush by brush, In the hush of the night, In the symphony of the silence. I was startled to see the tempest in me, I had gone to the depths of the...

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Placed second in: It Started With a Blank Canvas Poetry Contest: Sponsored by Silent One It Started with a Blank Canvas ...

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