Inspiration is an impulse to try something new.
A revelation that your life’s work isn’t through.
A thought that stimulates an action,
Spurring you by stimulating traction.
Arousing a notion, increasing your might,
Inspiration awakens you in the night
To new possibilities.
It’s the brainchild of capabilities.
A spark that lights a flame,
It changes the same, reorders the game,
Illuminates the path to find your muse,
Unleashing creativity without excuse.
It may come as a flash, creating a rumble,
Causing the mundane to fall and crumble,
Awakening a vision, encouraging a dream,
Inflating your diminished self esteem.
Often it’s a whim, a hunch, an insight,
An idea that seems to just sound right.
A brainstorm that threatens your complicity,
Calling you revive an old ability.
It motivates you to flights of fancy,
Soaring to heights that may be chancy,
Yet elevating you to live in rife,
And experience an enthusiasm for life!
Middle aged lady
Holds cardboard sign,
“Need 25 Cents”
Curious, I roll my window down.
“Just a quarter? Why?”
“I’m saving money,
A bus ticket to buy”
“My husband just died,
Family don’t care,
Want me to leave too,
But I need bus fare”
“A friend in Arizona
Told me she’d give me a room
I just need to get there,
Need to go very soon”
“So I’m saving quarters,
or whatever I can,
To leave this place,
That’s my plan.”
Only cash I had was a few coins.
“It’s all I have to give” I say
“It adds up” she smiles,
“Thanks for helping me today”
The light turns green,
I wave a quick Good bye,
“God Bless” I say
Thankful I took time to ask why.
In two minutes at a red light
It’s amazing what you can learn,
Just roll your window down,
And show some concern.
Two little girls cry out in the night
“Mommy!” they say to no one in sight
A blanket of fear holds them tight
As strangers tell them “It’ll be alright”
Sitting on concrete at the light
Her youthful trembling hands of white
Hold up a sign stating her plight
Holding back tears with all her might
Twin girl’s Mom won’t give up the fight
To make their future bright
10 lines—each line 8 syllables—Rhyme
For the creative writing class I am currently taking I tried to rewrite my original Tanka written on September 4, 2019, into a 10 line poem using the line “sitting on concrete” while also using parts of the lines “thin white hands” and “two little girls” in some way.
This poem is what I came up with after quite some deliberation.
Gasp Gasp Puff Puff
Life’s not made of this kind of stuff
Run Run Race Race
Life’s better when you slow your pace
Pant Pant Rant Rant
Stop to smell the flowers by the garden gate
Busy Busy Dizzy Dizzy
Life’s too precious to spend in a tizzy
Just like the movies you watch and the food you eat,
life does have an end time, an expiration date
Take time to breathe. Enjoy every moment before it’s too late
Whom have I but You?
To help when I’m sad and blue,
To plant a new seed,
To lift me in times of need,
To listen to prayers I plead.
(Based on Psalm 73: 25-26)
Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.
My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.
Thank You Lord, for always bring there for me, to listen, care and help.
If I didn’t know You
As I truly do
I could tell a lie
And not blink an eye
Worship an idol
With any title
Use your name in vain
Or kill like Cain
Even cheat and steal
Without any ideal
Chosing not to laud
Parents and You, God
If I didn’t know You
As I truly do
I would break all Ten
As do some men
Living without care
Never to repent
On a knee that’s bent
Who’ve never heard
The Covenant word
If them I don’t tell
I’m guilty as well
(Based on the Ten Commandments Of God)
#NaPoWriMo-Day 6-Prompt: Today, write a poem that emphasizes the power of “if,” of the woulds and coulds and shoulds of the world.
St. Patrick wore green
But in him no Irish was seen
Capture at sixteen
By Irish pirates would mean
Of sin Ireland he’d clean
Read this article stating the “Truth of who St. Patrick really was”