Inspiring Poems
Inspiration
In the realm where dreams take flight, Where shadows yield to radiant light,
There lies a spark, a wondrous fire, The force that lifts us ever higher.
Oh, inspiration, ethereal muse, A gentle whisper, a cosmic fuse,
Invisible threads, you deftly weave, Through hearts and minds, you do conceive.
In every artist's soul you dwell, A source of tales they long to tell,
With vivid hues and words profound, They paint the world with sights unbound.
The poet's pen, it dances free, In rhythms of your melody, With ink that flows from depths unknown, Your essence through their verses sown.
The musician's strings, they hum and sing, Your symphony through fingers ring,
An orchestra of vibrant dreams, Each note a tale of life's extremes.
You visit minds in darkest nights, Igniting thoughts like shimmering lights,
Transforming doubts to boundless grace, Awakening hope in every space.
In questing souls, you leave your trace, In every challenge, every race,
A force that drives, that propels forth, Beyond the barriers of the north.
Through sunlit skies or tempest's wrath, You guide us on life's arduous path,
With courage strong and purpose clear, We face our fears, we persevere.
You are the breath in sails unfurled, The core of all that's brave and bold,
Within your touch, we find our might, To reach for stars in darkest night.
Oh, inspiration, endless spring, In you, we find our everything, With gratitude,
we celebrate, Your gift of boundless, soaring state.
Unknown
In the realm where dreams take flight, Where shadows yield to radiant light,
There lies a spark, a wondrous fire, The force that lifts us ever higher.
Oh, inspiration, ethereal muse, A gentle whisper, a cosmic fuse,
Invisible threads, you deftly weave, Through hearts and minds, you do conceive.
In every artist's soul you dwell, A source of tales they long to tell,
With vivid hues and words profound, They paint the world with sights unbound.
The poet's pen, it dances free, In rhythms of your melody, With ink that flows from depths unknown, Your essence through their verses sown.
The musician's strings, they hum and sing, Your symphony through fingers ring,
An orchestra of vibrant dreams, Each note a tale of life's extremes.
You visit minds in darkest nights, Igniting thoughts like shimmering lights,
Transforming doubts to boundless grace, Awakening hope in every space.
In questing souls, you leave your trace, In every challenge, every race,
A force that drives, that propels forth, Beyond the barriers of the north.
Through sunlit skies or tempest's wrath, You guide us on life's arduous path,
With courage strong and purpose clear, We face our fears, we persevere.
You are the breath in sails unfurled, The core of all that's brave and bold,
Within your touch, we find our might, To reach for stars in darkest night.
Oh, inspiration, endless spring, In you, we find our everything, With gratitude,
we celebrate, Your gift of boundless, soaring state.
Unknown
“If” by 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 worn-out 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.
