courage poems

Don’t Bow Down – A Poem by Paul Tristram

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No one is above you!
Unless you put them there
or willingly let them
take that crown
right off your own head.
You were born
with every ingredient
needed
to be king of your own day.
Sycophants
sell themselves cheap,
backbones must be earned
not bought.
Let no one put a leash
around your throat…
especially yourself.
Dare to glare
into your own eyes
after each wrong step
you humanly take
along the way.
Learn, adapt, evolve,
focus upon your ‘Nice Side’
instead of battles
necessarily fought.
Have pride unique from arrogance.
You are both
‘The Pauper and the Prince’
of your own amazing soul.
It’s up to you, alone,
which role you will take.

More at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.

I – A Poem by Mehar Anaokar

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I will not be contained

By walls and roofs and ceilings

My reach extends further than my arms can hold

I will not be held down 

By ropes and weights, nor feelings

My story is one that demands to be told

I will not turn my cheek

Nor raise my hand to strike back

I know that body bruises are easily healed

Nor will I write

In spiteful words to attack

A heart that perhaps might not even feel

I will not lose sight

Of myself, my thoughts, my ways

Revenge, I know, won’t bring me peace

All that I will do

When I’m left betrayed

Is take my time to pick up every piece

I will not allow
Heaven, hell, and all in between

To come in the way of my own happiness

I will write to my heart

Of hurt, pain, love, and dreams

And will rid myself of all the bitterness

I will not stoop low

To stand at level with you

I know what I am and what I can be

I will smile to myself

For I’m glad of this truth—

You are you, but I am me.

More at https://justmastuff.wordpress.com/.

Reincarnations – A Poem by Stan Morrison

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I see how fast new passions
finally become old-fashioned
what was once avant-garde
has slipped onto its derriere

songs of peace or protest
are now sung to sell soup
songs of a coming revolution
rehashed on PBS fund drives

change at glacier speed,
“We shall overcome,”
has been self-embalmed

I’ll make my own peace
go at my own pace
write my own song
in my own words
that’s all that’s left.

Tenuous – A Poem by JD DeHart

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At skyscraper’ edge
I can see clean to the spot
of sidewalk where I stood
looking up.
Clean back to the place
I was born.
I think of the balance
of the tightrope
walker, adjusting for the
wind. Now, here it is.
I’m tired of walking
on eggshells. Such a worn
out phrase. Like the phrase
worn out. But I perched
on pristine shell a few
years ago. Afraid to speak
and afraid to offend.
This may be tenuous,
but I’m tired of people
pleasing and saying yes.
I’m not going to offend
for a pastime.
Never on purpose.
What I’m talking about
is liberty to be without
straining each word
and thought like a fine
soup, served flaccid
by the time it arrives.

Snow – A Poem by Pezhman Mosleh

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I wish people would be pure like snow
And would be melted with warmness
And would become a moment creator like water
And would go against any block like overflow

A Classic Love & the Gale-Driven Windmills of the Heart – A Poem by Paul Tristram

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She’s on fire, again!
Amber lighting up her eyes
like hungry wolves out hunting.
Smiling has never been so easy,
natural or dizzying.
There’s a ‘Whoosh’
to every train of thought.
Hiccups and Stuttering
to her normally delicate speech.
An intoxicating invasion
is happening somewhere deep inside…
and it’s shudderingly conquering.
The smell of tulips
is absolutely everywhere,
it must be her dead Grandmother
passing on happy blessings.
She’s kissing teacups bold
without even meaning to
and no longer
counting single magpies only.
Dresses instead of trousers,
brave enough for hats,
emerald crushed velvet
and black-less colours.
Life’s safety bar
is still slightly in reach…
but no longer white-knuckled
and held by panicked breathing.

More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.

Stream of Consciousness – A Poem by Stan Morrison

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I am in awe of creative ideas
irreverence for the revered
life’s too short to sit and wonder
life’s to long to fill with hatred
life’s too short to sit and wait
life’s too long not to love everyone,
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may…”

Wrong Impressions – A Poem by G. S. Katz

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I see her everyday in my neighborhood
Early every morning like clockwork
Carrying a shopping bag
And scavenging garbage cans for treasure

She’s probably in her 70s
Nothing unusual about her
Probably homeless and searching for food
Are my first conclusions proved wrong

After seeing her for months while I walk my dog
I approach her one day and offer her $20 for food
She looks at me with disdain and refuses my offer
Not even politely she blows me off with pleasure

Long story short, two remarkable things happen
I see her one day at a flea market
With a table selling her wares
And discover soon after, she lives in a luxury condo
across the street from me

I surmise she retired years ago
Found herself bored or in need of funds
Was in good shape and clever
Knowing free inventory is money found

I judged her with typical city eyes
But applaud her for her discipline and courage
For she found the secret of one man’s trash
Is another woman’s payday and cash

blood fellows behind me from my knees | L Lawliet

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i one time ponder why i cant stand on my own two legs all the time i often contemplate why my knee’s are so weak that i speak these words for all to be heard.
i look down at my weak knee’s , i say why are you so weak when i have all this power , strength to keep from falling on you my knee’s.
i hear them say its cause you drag us , pull us thru your life walking on us unaware of the blood you trail , leave behind you we are blood soaked knee’s.
i ask them why do you not stand , drip less blood they reply because we cant stand if you don’t walk i reply but walking thru life is the hardest part.
they tell me we are blood soaked knee’s to stop the blood you must stand tall , carry yourself better , be strong for everyone not just you.
i then reply why must i stand if i cant even walk or even find the courage to speak , talk my words of my own mind .
they reply if you don’t stand you cant turn around , see everyone the blood trails of us blood soaked knee’s we cover them in our blood you must turn around , see the blood so you can stand tall , stop the blood.
i reply i don’t know how to stand they then proceed to tell me grab the hands of those we blood soaked knee’s have behind you soaked in our blood , they well help you stand .
i reply but what if my mind body , heart are weaker then me , wanna drop to tho blood soaked knee’s they reply those people behind , in front of you well strengthen those parts of yourself so you can see them , hear them , have the strength to grab there hands , stand tall.
they then reply that’s how you stand tall just don’t try to do it alone i smile some one what , slowly see my friends lovers , family behind me , reach out my long reaching arms to grasp there’s , pull me up , then i know i’m not walking on bloody knee’s but healing knee’s

More at http://lrueryuzaki.deviantart.com/journal/blood-fellows-behind-me-from-my-knees-L-459678072.

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