courage poems

Welcome to My World – A Poem by Shannen Wrass

Have you ever tried to cry
But there’s no tears left to shed
Have you ever seen the face of misery
Or looked into the eyes of dread
Have you ever gripped the pain
‘Cause it’s all that’s left to hold
Have you ever tried so hard to love
But found your heart was just too cold
Have you ever just had to accept,
Your agony has no end
Have you ever been so desperate,
You’ve claimed the sorrow your best friend
Have you ever held hands with depression
Wept on the shoulder of fear
Have you ever reached out to emptiness
But there’s nothing to pull near.
Have you ever sobbed yourself to sleep
Anguish at the foot of your bed
Have you ever been shaken from your dream
To be thrown into a nightmare instead
Have you ever felt the cringe inside
Embraced by betrayal and hate
Have you ever then just had to dwell
In a world that terror creates
Have you ever been left empty
No courage to unfold
If you’ve ever known the hurt
Then welcome to my world

The Wake – A Poem by Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne

I Leave The Wheels To Machinery,
There Are Strange Things In The Clouds,
Honest And UnDieing They Could Live In The Wake,
Of New Days From The Next Deaths Of The Old,
Turning Lightning InTo Blackness And Stone,
The Wearing AWay At The Grip Of Dreams,
Erosion Of Forms And Patterns,
Blinking The Light From Entrance InTo Havens UnSeen,
Tenacity To Cling From The Swaying Lines,
To Burn And Incinerate The Dream,
To The Fragments For Spaceious Skys,
UnDoing Like ButterFlys,
Ripping Through The Membranes BeTwixt Glass And Grain,
Shadeing Lapses As I Step Forward…

Never A Division For A Partial Chance,
Empty As All Paces Can At Once Be,
Each To Lift Not To Settle,
And As I Have Stood…

Those From Such Walks Meet,
Side By Side,
To Stare Beyond The Shoulder’s Length,
Filling With Texture And Sleepless Breath,
Fingers Pressed Against The Surface,
Cool To The Touch…And Smoother Than Lies.

More at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca.

Don’t Bow Down – A Poem by Paul Tristram

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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