[.~.~.~:~:~:~.~.~.] Inspirational Poems [.~.~.~:~:~:~.~.~.]







"Be Mine"

"Be Mine" the words said
Written in the most beautiful shade of red.

Never before had her eyes beheld
Nor, in the depths of her heart, had she felt
This kind of feeling before.
She wanted to know more.
She read on quickly with excitement
And in amazement her soul leapt.
As the words made it all so clear,
The very thing she needed to hear.

"I love you more than life,
My Dear, and in My love there is no fear.
You see, it was for this Holy love
That I gave My life and shed My blood.
I've given freely, to you, this treasure,
This gift which is beyond measure."

Could it be true, her eyes opened wide.
For it was at that moment she realized
The emptiness she had felt inside
Would now be wholly, completely satisfied.

With this love, offered without cost.
It was true. She had been lost.
"There is only one thing I must ask of you."
"What is it?" she asked. "Anything I will do."

"Be Mine and only Mine, you must give Me your life,
It's kind of like becoming My wife.
You'll be My bride and I will come back for you.
And I want you to be ready in all that you do."

Her answer was "Yes" and in those words,
The angels singing in heaven could be heard.
"Be Mine" the words said with sacrificial love
Written and sealed in her Savior's blood.

Take Time...

Take time to think;
it is the source of power.
Take time to read;
it is the foundation of wisdom.
Take time to play;
it is the secret of staying young.
Take time to be quiet;
it is the opportunity to seek God.
Take time to be aware;
it is the opportunity to help others.
Take time to love and be loved;
it is God's greatest gift.
Take time to laugh;
it is the music of the soul.
Take time to be friendly;
it is the road to happiness.
Take time to dream;
it is what the future is made of.
Take time to pray;
it is the greatest power on earth.

I May, I Might, I Must
Marianne Moore

If you will tell me why the fen
appears impassable, I then
will tell you why I think that I
can get across it if I try.

Happy Thought
Robert Louis Stevenson

The world is so full of a number of things,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings

The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
. . .
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees; all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; . . .
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, . . .
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
. . .
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Question's Poetry

what does it mean?
that's what it tells.
What is it's purpose?
to laugh, to cry, to love,to hate.
Is it for certain people
It is for all who wish to obtain it.
Does it have to be long?
if your intentions are that.
it's for the world to take.

Down by Memory Lake
Sean Fleming (Reader's Contest Entry)

Down by Memory Lake
Many Vacations I'd often take
The memories, they are coming back to me
I remember this lake but not the sea

Swimming along the waves are crashing
I remember the days of childish splashing
Remember the days down by the dock
I never bothered to watch the clock

Remember the days of summer boating
Memories of my body floating
All those days under the hot sun,
But not caring because I had such fun

All those days with old friends
We all hoped that our summer would never end
I was in bliss
It was my first kiss

Now here I am at Memory Lake
And now my grandchildren I take
The water as I remember
Soon the month will be September
Down by Memory Lake

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.

William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be
John Keats

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactry,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!

That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.

Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
* * *
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master;
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
* * *
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run--
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Ode on Solitude
Alexander Pope

Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixt; sweet recreation;
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

Poet's Harvest
Sarah Hamilton (Reader's Contest Entry)

The land is fertile, so plant the seeds,
Hoe the thoughts, and pull the weeds
Pick the words, they're golden brown,
Bundle them up and send them to town
To bring a smile to an unfamiliar face
But whatever you do, don't let them waste
Because thoughts and words are priceless
treasures planted
in your head

Black Woman
David Jones (Reader's Contest Entry)

Mother to us all Goddess of the universe
Thank you, for being there.
Your strength has allowed us to survive the torment,
That we as black men have had to endure.
Your fortitude through the torture and rape of our people,
Has kept us from the systematic annihilation, brutal beatings &
Killings that are undoubtedly a part of their scheme.
For every one of us that have they have taken
you've given back two-fold.
Black Woman your strength will keep us around for
Millions of years to come.
I salute you, your pride, your beauty
You--I cherish your very being. Thank you

Who Stole the Laughter
Angela Medaugh (Reader's Contest Entry)

Who stole the laughter?
Who stole the song?
Who reaped the souls of those,
Whose joy o' prolong?

I am but one a nimble,
A star away an eye.
You stole the pinkish of my cheeks,
Leave my emotions dry.

I tire but can not sleep,
Neither manor nor in woe.
Though straight a face I have but kept,
I can?t keep the tears doth flow.

So tuck your babes in slumber,
And bid them "Ye nay shy".
For only in their fairy dreams,
They grow wings to spread and fly.

Dawn Painter
Charlotte Partin

God boldly dips
His fingertips
in Sunset's pot of dye.

Night erases
twilight traces
before His hands can dry.

He roughly wipes
those rosey stripes
onto the paintrag sky.

Ayesha Dayakar

There are times when I don't want to do anything and doing nothing is what I do?.
At times I cry so hard that I start to laugh?
When the wind is still I can hear the breeze blowing?
Within the motive of war the agenda is usually peace ?.
Are strangers really strange when they become friends?.
We fight like cats and dogs, do dogs and cats fight like we do??..
When we are late, we are actually on the time required?
If there's space, closeness will come too?.
Dark is gently straining for light and the light takes away the dark.

Ben Barton (Reader's Contest Entry)
Sunk in the depths
Colours glimmer from the glass
Fish; the tank their stage.

Rebecca Vendetti (Reader's Contest Entry)
I am an earthbound angel,
sent here just for you.
To keep you out of danger
through all the things you do.
I will be here by your side,
through good times and through bad.
I will never leave you lonely,
I won't let them leave you sad.
I am your gardian angel,
I'll take good care of you.
For I'm the only one who knows
that you're someone's angel too.

Generation X
Dotty Waters (Reader's Contest Entry--First Place)

The children are dying, but you can't be made to see
The way that all this violence isn't hurting you, but me.
Mama's smokin' blunts, Daddy's out the door,
How long it take to realize he ain't comin' back no more?
My friends' in a gang, smokin' weed, gettin high,
Whatever they been doin, I been thinkin, "Why can't I?'
Four hours after school, at home, all alone,
Free to walk the streets, acting like I'm grown.
Look at the world through my eyes and you'll see
The way it looks like everybody's gettin' laid but me.
When I go out on a date I go too far cause it's "da bomb."
You say it's my fault, but how do I know right from wrong?
You close your eyes, so you just can't see
The kind of choices that we make irresponsibly.
You say we're foolish, but we don't know what to do.
This is Generation X, from us to you

The Youth of Today
Charlotte Partin (Reader's Contest Entry)

The Youth of today
are something to see...
Their hearts are young,
their spirits, free.

They are not stooped over
by worry and care,
they don't judge others
by the length of their hair!

They don't have ulcers
nor do they turn grey.
The heck with Tomorrow
(They live for Today.)

They Youth of today,
oh what will they be?
I only wish
that they were me!

James Harrison (Sho-roc) (Reader's Contest Entry)

Circumstances, Love, Heartache, Failure or Success
Are all a part of the broad Spectrum
in our everyday routine
that we call life.
At times it may be unbearable
but hold on.
At times it may feel as though you are walking on air
stay grounded.
Note: Because when you think you are in control
you may be out of control.
Life is at best an ongoing learning process
from conception to the coffin.
Just a short walk in a strange place

I Saw Peace Clearly
McKenzie Burris (Reader's Contest Entry)

I saw peace clearly.
He was strong, built, and muscular.
He turned and glided swiftly along.
I saw his big gracious heart and his loving, soft blue eyes.
And I heard him speak softly and convincingly.
And I felt safe.

I Don't Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
Marlo Parker (Reader's Contest Entry--First Place)

I don?t know why the caged bird sings
but I?m privy to the knowledge of many other things.

I know why
the abused child cries
the cancer victim dies
the manic depressive just can?t cope
the praying lady just lost hope
the molested boy turns to drugs
the inner city youth turn to thugs

Yet, not one clue why the caged bird sings.

I know why
the old and unwanted lose their will
the mad and frustrated sometimes kill
the prisons of war can?t run or hide
the misunderstood commit suicide
the broken hearted love no more
the single mother became a whore

Still not one clue why the caged bird sings.

I know why
the incest victim lost her mind
the KKK don?t like my kind
the widower is always weeping
the vietnam vet has trouble sleeping
the alcoholic still has a drink
the weak minded never stop to think

And still no clue why the caged bird sings.

I know why
the unemployed just don?t bother
the young boy cries for his father
the under achiever won?t reach their goal
the prostitute sell her soul
the inhumanity will never cease
and only the dead are finally at peace.

I don?t know why the caged bird sings
but I?m privy to the knowledge of many other things.

Stephanie Pettee (Reader's Contest Entry)

L ive it to the fullest.
I n every single way.
F ufill your dreams and
goals. And smile
E veryday

IF . . .
Jacqueline Winfield (Reader's Contest Entry)

If you can face the changing world,
with courage and with trust;
if you can overcome all doubt,
and do the things you must;
if you can cling to your own dreams,
believing they?re worthwhile;
if you can weather passing storms,
and never lose your smile;
if you can give as well as take,
and hold your head up high;
if you can keep the joy of youth,
from ever running dry;
if you can open up your heart,
with love that long endures;
then peace and all of life?s sweet gifts,
will happily be yours.

Mission Statement
Scott Ricky (Reader's Contest Entry)

Our mission here is very clear,
Look at these people they live in fear.
To serve and protect against all nations,
Even under the NATO sanction.
Satan is at work all over this land,
God has sent us to lend a helping hand.
Some of us man checkpoints, some the gates.
Others sit in the TOC while we all wait
Waiting to see what the next will be.
And how it will affect guys like you and me.
After seven months of this stuff
We will say we?ve had enough.
The next guys will come down,
We?ll let them have their round.
We will return back to our station,
In another country, another nation.
Back to our families and our homes,
All of which have always known.
To serve and protect was our mission here,
All of it now seems very clear

Long and Lonely Road
Christina Ragsdale (Reader's Contest Entry)

On the long and lonely road in pursuit of happiness
We encounter bumps along the way
Should we stand and fight...
Or turn and run away?

Happiness could be an illusion
That we all somehow create
Something that we hope
Will someday make life great

Happiness COULD be real
A light to find our way
But hurt is what I feel
And I have lost my faith

When things are so wrong
And I am broken down
How can I believe
In something never found?

Life of a Truck Driver
Debbie Jo Ramsey (Reader's Contest Entry)

Most do not understand
The life of a Truck Driver
Once in their blood
It?s usually there forever

They stay on the road
Always on the go
Where they end up
Only their dispatcher knows

Their family waits patiently
For their safe return home
To see how much their child
Or grandchild has grown

They deliver your loads
With a smile that glows
Then they?re off again
Down the road they go

They travel all hours
Of the day and night
Making sure your happy
And everything?s just right

So the next time your paths
Should happen to cross
Tell a Truck Driver
?You are the Boss?

Different Eyes Than Most
Michael Cubert (Reader's Contest Entry)

Feeling the breeze upon my face
I sit and ponder why
The visions spread before my sight
One can see the beauty
While others see only the beast . . .

The beast is the easiest to see
The tired, the hungry or the poor
The dirt, hurt or the ravished land
Depends upon where one just stands
On how the heart can digest what is seen . . .

As a society
We are accustomed to the beast
More newsworthy items
Or so some thing . . .

Hard for me to understand why
The ugliness gets the attention
And the Beauty remains extinct.
The Beauty is harder for one to see
For there is a tree
Instead of the dead branches and leaves . . .

And there is Heart in the eyes,
Instead of the mud and tears on the face
For the Beauty
One must look deeper
Seeing the soul and spirit beneath.

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