Inspiration Writing Poems | Examples
These Inspiration Writing poems are examples of Writing poems about Inspiration. These are the best examples of Writing Inspiration poems written by international poets.
LOST AND FOUND
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When all words have been written,
the pen feels heavy, leaden weight
in my weary hand.
Inspiration, a silent bird, takes flight,
a flash of iridescent wings
disappearing beyond the horizon.
Imagination, a child lost in a funhouse,
caught in a repetitious loop of familiar shapes,
trapped in distorted, mirrored halls.
Then, a door appears, not one of wood or metal,
but one of starlight and whispers,
polished smooth by yearning and passion.
I open it, and the world explodes
with colors unseen and sounds unheard,
with endless possibilities.
My senses ignite; every cell comes alive;
and inspiration, no longer silent,
TO BASKING ON THE SHORES OF MY POETIC SEABED
Lying here on the shores of the seabed of poetic creation,
May this flow of waving words stream joy, worthiness, and
Inspiration to the thirsty eyes they froth upon; hydrating them,
And energizing sad, weary souls with peace, love, and hope.
May such allegorical words overflow into waiting cups,
To later be sipped by a deciphered understanding of minds
Hungry for awareness, truth, and guidance towards liberation:-
Indeed, may God pour out of my poetic cistern, his divine wisdom.
And for these frothing waves of words of peace and love,
I would be in dehydrating remission if I did not give praise
And thanks to my fellow blessed scribes who likewise
Continue to water my poetic seabed with nourishing grace:-
Like the strokes of an artist’s brush
Painting a self-portrait of my life
The colors are people, events, and experiences
Each stroke flows into the next creating the picture
A step back is needed at times
To observe the full scope of life
To include the essence of my being
Expressing all aspects as one
Without the help of the master creator
I cannot finish this work completely
Knowing not how I will fully evolve
In faith I place my brush into His hand
Strings of inspiration swirl through my mind
They float and frolic endlessly
Until they spiral out of control
And eventually get intertwined
For I am a non-writing writer,
An untameable monster - forever trapped in cerebral stagnation.
The moon speaks in phases
the sun a voice of lasers
every cloud a picture story --
write me a day, and I’ll paint
you a Starry Night.
Writing when I’m alone.
A tired writing.
Terrible, sleepy writing.
So nothing goes right.
Writing is absolute.
Stains everywhere.
The stain of words.
Trembling.
Writing is gracious.
Kind and hefty.
Turns back toward me.
Like a detached face.
Writing is combing through piles.
Wailing and eyebrow raising.
Swallowing my pencil.
Horrible just like that.
I left my pen and notebook at home.
No one can bring it to me.
So I’m grappling with a magazine.
Inspiration is gracious.
Writing alone.
With the pen on my nightstand.
clouds pass grandly as they come
she holds them tender but firm,
cotton candy syllables
fuse to words, worth weight in gold -
saturate and impregnate -
then wrung out with the purpose
of stirred ink legends foretold
What happened after - Sponsor Nette Onclaud
21/07/25
Anne Frank
sweet
s e
m l
i
diamond HEART
O P E N mind
marrow = Courage
had no ______…. basin
acted with PEN ______
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taught about W. A. R. w r i t i n g
generations spiral up
|_____^^ journal again …
writing a poem
is my meditate,
my connect
with more than I am.
Inspiration yields to desperation
with each tick of the clock
underarms damp as the back of your knees
soiling even your frumpy frock...
Time is finite, you know it’s true
though it seems it’s out to choke just you
a thought races past, is it your last
~ an alarm goes off, the die is cast
He's a flirt with his anxieties,
Collecting tauted nerves.
She's a pen who haunts his remedies,
And with these words she serves.
He'll romanticize the painful,
And unto pleasure, gain.
Where a page was turned to tar,
With her baneful, poisoned stain.
All that glitters looks amiss,
While they write together sin.
Whereby lovers part by kiss,
Muses part by apitoxin.
ahhh... the crisp feel of the new notebook
its spine never cracked open
its pages of virgin white perfectly aligned
awaiting their marching orders
eager for all and any pen markings
from sunday best handwriting to doodles
inviting playful interaction
your creative élan of spontaneity
random thoughts splashed on a page
scripted lines scribbled to offload
a mind seeking clarity, peace or absolution
seeking a semblance of order
of profound clarity or silly mischief
one page then another
the daily journal of a busy mind
in search of something
through self-expression
hoping to find it between
the whites of pages
and the ink of a ballpoint pen
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Jolt of inspiration
A person wanted to be a POET
But didn’t know where to start nor how to show it
Words starting popping into the POETS head
Words becoming sentences
Showcasing the instances
Poet to be felt inspired
Didn’t want to tire
Discovery was desired
Words open up
Distance being Close
Farness wasn’t found
Alpha Nouns and Pronouns
A true Poet in the making blooming
Word flow
Couldn’t let go
The Poet saw purpose direct
His eyes showed obvious
Word mount
Like a watery fount
Theory and Understanding
Wisdom through experience
A Poet to be had became
The Poet did see
One must test the waters and try, but requires effort
Every commitment needs determined
This is how a Poet is acknowledged
The focus up close
Discouraged by most
Surprise, Surprise
The Poet learned the concept of realize
The Poet Within.
Good literature is:
Stephen King’s anxiety
Laurell K.Hamilton’s nightmares
James Patterson’s fear
V.C. Andrews’s mystery
William Shakespeare’s grace
Edgar Allen Poe’s rhymes
J.K. Rowling’s magic wand
and the Muse that
inspires every future writer..
All of that is good literature.
Mothered inspiration birthed from the seed of my soul
send my mind in to a frenzy with racing thoughts hard to gather and control
Words roll off my tongue with provocative pronunciation
climaxed by the inflection of each insertion of punctuation
ejaculated thoughts wrestled into pleasure provoking position are gone over back and forth and back and forth until the work is at a its greatest peak and ready for submission
New sensations flourish as visual aspects of the write begin to grow
the girth and length of your creation are now taking shape and beginning to show
fingers gripping pens
Pens gliding over paper
Paper once plain white showing the stain from its ink filled raper
A master piece of your own perfection
each pen stoke bringing it closer to desire
pace is quickening now finished with sparks of blazing fire
Just another completed writting but written with such a hunger
It was meant to be innocent but may not be subtable for the younger