Inspirational Poems, Motivational Poetry

Pride

WHAT A
PRIDE”
One of the most
significant
word is
PRIDE…
Because when you have to
much of
it…
YOU always dont want to be
the first one to do the step to with
someone….
YOU always try to hide your
feelings…
YOU dont want others to know
that he/she’s
special…
YOU are afraid of losing
someone but also afraid to show
it…
YOU are afraid to love
someone? who you think cant love you
in
return…
YOU’re so aware of what
other people think that you cant do
what you
want…
YOU ARE NOT
HAPPY…..
And in the
end….
YOU LOSE
EVERYTHING….
WITHOUT EVEN TRYING TO HAVE
IT….

This poem was written/submitted by mirage@mahusay aken11308.

REALITY…..

REALITY”

Im going to smile like

nothings

wrong…

talk like everythings

perfect…

act like its all a

dream…

and pretend its not hurting

me…

but what about the

reality?

SMILE..without the real

LAUGHTER…

DREAMS…but its a

NIGHTMARE…

why not cry instead of

smiling, were your in

pain…

crying sometimes ease the

pain…

dont tried to hide your

sentiments…

dont tried to hide your

agony…

dont cover up your pain by

a facade of smile in your

face…

DO YOU THINK YOUR

STRONG?….but what about the reality….?

This poem was written/submitted by mirage@mahusay aken11308.

Reason

I dont have to win….
To be called a winner….
I dont have to lose….
To be called a looser….
I gave my attention….
I gave my support….
All of this is for a reason….
For my love and respect….
I’ll have to fight for a reason…
Reason for my love to shine….
You are my reason to live….
And love you till i die….
My feelings was so high….
Coz you were there at my side…
By a sudden mistakes….
You judged me…
You turn your back and set me aside….
Now that that your gone…
Your presences is still in my heart and mind….
Where is that reason now….
Now that were living separate’s life….

This poem was written/submitted by mirage@mahusay aken11308.

Remembrance

Your hands easy
weight, teasing the bees
hived in my hair, your smile at the
slope of my cheek. On the
occasion, you press
above me, glowing, spouting
readiness, mystery rapes
my reason

When you have withdrawn
your self and the magic, when
only the smell of your
love lingers between
my breasts, then, only
then, can I greedily consume
your presence.

This poem was written/submitted by Maya Angelou.

Soledad

(And I, I am no longer of that world)

Naked, he lies in the blinded room
chainsmoking, cradled by drugs, by jazz
as never by any lover’s cradling flesh.

Miles Davis coolly blows for him:
O pena negra, sensual Flamenco blues;
the red clay foxfire voice of Lady Day

(lady of the pure black magnolias)
sobsings her sorrow and loss and fare you well,
dryweeps the pain his treacherous jailers

have released him from for a while.
His fears and his unfinished self
await him down in the anywhere streets.

He hides on the dark side of the moon,
takes refuge in a stained-glass cell,
flies to a clockless country of crystal.

Only the ghost of Lady Day knows where
he is. Only the music. And he swings
oh swings: beyond complete immortal now.

This poem was written/submitted by Robert Hayden.

Strangers

We are both strangers at the start….
Learn to accept as friends….
As days pass by we became entwined….
We laugh together and shared the good times….
We shed tears when were down….
We build a foundation and dreams as high as the sky….
We cherish that times we spend together….
We thought it will last forever, till the end of time….
I made a mistake and you judged me and set me aside….
You became silent and never speak up….
What shall i do, to say sorry for you….
we were like strangers….
Can we make a new start……

This poem was written/submitted by mirage@mahusay aken11308.

Struggles Begin

Always enjoy our day with blessing….
Think the day is always a good day….
Dont ever think that we are good….
Always think that we are excellent….
In life their is always a competation….
Sometimes we lost….
Sometimes we wins….
And there is ups and downs….
All of us is a dreamer….
All of us is a hopefuls….
All of us has it own aims….
That we must achived our dream….
every morning we wakes up….
we have to face the battles in life….
Just to survive….And at night….
We rest our self…. For tommorow….
Another struggles begin….Just to aim…. To our dreams….

This poem was written/submitted by mirage@mahusay aken11308.

The Great Way

The Great Way has no gate;
there are a thousand paths to it.
If you pass through the barrier,
you walk the universe alone.

This poem was written/submitted by Wu Men.

The Most Beautiful Flower

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read.
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,
For the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren’t enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, “Look what I found!”

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn – not enough rain, or too little light.
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose
And declared with overacted surprise,
“It sure smells pretty and it’s beautiful, too.
That’s why I picked it; here, it’s for you.”

The weed before me was dying or dead.
Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and replied, “Just what I need.”

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,
He held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the very first time
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As I thanked him for picking the very best one.
You’re welcome,” he smiled, and then ran off to play,
Unaware of the impact he’d had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see
A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.
How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he’d been blessed with true sight.

Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.
And for all of those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life,
And appreciate every second that’s mine.

And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young boy,
Another weed in his hand,
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

The Prisoners

Steel doors – guillotine gates –
of the doorless house closed massively.
We were locked in with loss.

Guards frisked us, marked our wrists,
then let us into the drab Rec Hall –
splotched green walls, high windows barred –

where the dispossessed awaited us.
Hands intimate with knife and pistol,
hands that had cruelly grasped and throttled

clasped ours in welcome. I sensed the plea
of men denied: Believe us human
like yourselves, who but for Grace …

We shared reprieving Hidden Words
revealed by the Godlike imprisoned
One, whose crime was truth.

And I read poems I hoped were true.
It’s like you been there, brother, been there,
the scarred young lifer said.

This poem was written/submitted by Robert Hayden.

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