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.
Love can do little more than suppose
an eternity. Your charming
inspiration drawing me deeper
into The Poet’s Right of Lyric
Passage. Conclusion: a writer
only dies outside his text – each
composition a fond tease of
omnipotence.
I desperately need an ink transfusion
AP: 2nd place 2026
Jamming without an audience,
audience feedback limit’s you.
You must remain free and easy,
easy to do while just jamming.
Jamming with a brand new lyric,
lyric that has become complete.
Complete yet it’s unexpected
unexpected hits grow jamming.
When warmed by inspiration's sun,
I take my favorite tool, my pen,
and plough a careful furrow through
the rich, deep soil of thought.
With eagerness I plant a row
of words, and watch them bud and grow,
then marvel at the miracle
that God and I have wrought!
My thoughts brighter than before thanks to coffee
God starts to pour words into the mind
Which is the start of inspiration, I find
And in the mix things start to grind
The intentions, inspiration in our mind's God-lined
And the turning into all that's combined
Then God pours into the batter freewill
Every nuance, introspection, subtlety and thrill
All whisked together, the grist for the mill
And it all mixes rapidly and yet still
There's no machinery, no A.I. to ink out our quill
[Non sequitur]
So what happened to all the notebooks
The fragments and familiar phrases, lines and hooks?
And why wasn't credit given when someone overlooks
Where the black and white is found? not in babbling brooks
But in obscurity you'll find hiding the crooks
every blank page is a challenge
crisp and white. like lightning
waiting for inspiration
I am waiting too
bottle of green tea
crumpled up paper towel
new garden gloves
my keyboard is surrounded by fodder
where is my muse?
did she go on vacation?
is she enjoying Belise while I sit here
without one single solitary idea?
The toilet is running next door
driving me crazy
I am starting to grind my teeth
aha, we are starting…..
when moonbeams intrude
on edge of a graphite night—
my pulse feels a rush
Why do I write a poem
Where does this need
This desire come from
When did this need take root
Flower through a cracked sidewalk
Ache to be seen, sniffed, appreciated.
Why do I smile, nod a hello, to passersby
Speak to babies seeking secret wisdom
Pet wet puppies and savor the scent
Whisper a secret, wrinkle nosed, I love you to my wife
Why do I write of secrets, kept secret
Opening the entrance only slightly
Peering out in hopes someone is peering in
Sing in an empty room for all to hear
I do these things for I believe
That I am the voice of an ethereal being
Speaking into a void
Listening for an echo
Hoping that my “voice” has touched someone
My song savored, rephrased, re-sung
For my words surprise me when written
And I hope surprise you when read.
SHARING GOD’S SHARED POURED WORDS
For me,
Penning poetic words,
Is a desired labor of love;
Sharing life’s awareness
Of the guided wisdom
Poured out of God’s cistern
To wave and froth inspiration;
And the beauty
Of it all
Is that God’s cistern
Is eternally overflowed
With such frothing words;
Energizing
Thirsty searching souls
And strengthening
Our tested spirits
With His peace
Love and healing grace;
And I pray
My poetic well
Will continue
To be flooded
With buckets
Of hydrating words;
And when God
Retires me
I pray
My keloid
Clanging echoes
Will continue
To quench
Inspirational thirst:-
The poet waits for words to come
that will then stun the world.
He pens a rhyme to have some fun,
the run of ink unfurled.
A line about a special tree,
or stories filled with you and me.
Unlocking nature with his key
of poetry that’s pearled.
September leaves blow
erasing summer’s fervor
as the wind praises
LOST AND FOUND
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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,
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
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