If you want to live healthy, happy, and successful, you need to have hope. When you hope for better days, hope for peace, and hope for love, you get to enjoy life more and appreciate the good things that you have now. We compiled some of the best poems about hope to remind you of its real meaning and its importance in your life.
Poems About Hope
1. Finding Hope
by: Pat A. Fleming
I’ve always viewed life from the sidelines,
Just watching it passing me by.
In the past, too afraid to just let go and live,
And lately too tired to try.
I’ve envied the people around me
So invested in living each day,
While I spent my time hiding out from the world
And searching for ways to escape.
For most of my life I truly believed
I was here to help somebody else,
But now it’s so clear it was just an excuse.
To avoid living life for myself.
It’s sad that our lives and the pain we endure
Can weaken our strength to move on,
But if we get lost in the scars of our past,
Without knowing our lives will be gone.
It’s true, people are disappointing,
They can turn in the blink of an eye,
But we can’t avoid hurting each other,
When we all want a chance at this life.
But there’s something I’ve learned through the wisdom of age,
A truth about all of our lives,
And that is no matter what path we each take,
In the end, we just want to survive.
So the time has now come to conquer my fears
And to stand up and face a new day.
Let the hurts of my past wash away with my tears
And stop letting my life slip away.
2. Caged Bird
by: Maya Angelou
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
3. Now You’ve Recovered
by: Charles A Cino
When you recover, what will you do?
When you recover, will you still be you?
Will you be stronger, will you be new,
When you recover from what you’ve been through.
Can life get better than it was before?
Will you realize your dreams and improve your score?
Will people still remember your name,
Or will they forget you because they’re ashamed?
Life in recovery may not be the same.
The rules may have changed in this brand new game.
You can pick up the pieces and make a new start,
And courage and hope keep you from falling apart.
The world all around you seems different and changed.
Things that once were now seem out of range,
But you can recapture your life and fulfill
The dreams that were lost when you took ill.
The journey to wellness takes time and is long,
And those that get well are exceptionally strong
For depression can kill, but you have survived.
Your goal to recover has kept you alive.
Now you’re recovered, what will you do?
You suffered and conquered and saw it through.
Back from the black and abyss of despair,
It is time to move on; it is time to care.
4. In Good Time
by: Abimbola T. Alabi
Life can seem an endless maze,
The twists and turns, lulls and delays,
But things always fall into place.
In good time.
Friends will sometimes go away.
Some may disappoint or others betray,
But new ones will come to stay.
In good time.
The hurt of getting something wrong,
And the lesson it often brings along
Are there, you see, to make you strong.
In good time.
Kindness freely given away,
Unnoticed now, will somehow find its way
Back to you and come to stay.
In good time.
Efforts seem not to pay to plan?
Forge on friend, doing the best you can.
Fortune will find the deserving man.
In good time.
Life can be tough, there’s no doubt,
But hope is the thing we can’t do without.
Right things with joy will come about.
In good time.
5. In Spite Of War
by: Angela Morgan
In spite of war, in spite of death,
In spite of all man’s sufferings,
Something within me laughs and sings
And I must praise with all my breath.
In spite of war, in spite of hate
Lilacs are blooming at my gate,
Tulips are tripping down the path
In spite of war, in spite of wrath.
“Courage” the morning-glory saith.
“Rejoice” the daisy murmureth,
And just to live is so divine
When pansies lift their eyes to mine.
The clouds are romping with the sea,
And flashing waves call back to me
That naught is real but what is fair,
That everywhere and everywhere
A glory liveth through despair.
Though guns may roar and cannon boom,
Roses are born and gardens bloom,
My spirit still may light its flame
At that same torch whence poppies came.
Where morning’s altar whitely burns
Lilies may lift their silver urns
In spite of war, in spite of shame.
And in my ear a whispering breath,
“Wake from the nightmare! Look and see
That life is naught but ecstasy
In spite of war, in spite of death.”
6. As Is Life
by: Albi Demeza
It’s strange the things you remember
And the things you seem to forget.
It’s a jamboree of all sorts,
A patchwork of joys and regrets.
You remember the days when you mess up,
The days when sadness brings tears,
But you forget all those small happy moments
When it’s laughter that brings you to tears.
If only we could be happy forever,
To look forward, not think of the past,
Our lives would be full of elation,
With sadness a ghost of the past.
7. Hope Is the Thing With Feathers
by: Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all
And sweetest in the Gale is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm
I’ve heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest Sea
Yet never in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
8. Still I Rise
by: Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
9. Of History and Hope
by: Miller Williams
We have memorized America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
The rich taste of it is on our tongues.
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
We mean to be the people we meant to be,
to keep on going where we meant to go.
But how do we fashion the future? Who can say how
except in the minds of those who will call it now?
The children. The children. And how does our garden grow?
With waving hands oh, rarely in a row
and flowering faces. And brambles, that we can no longer allow.
Who were many people coming together
cannot become one people falling apart.
Who dreamed for every child an even chance
cannot let luck alone turn doorknobs or not.
Whose law was never so much of the hand as the head
cannot let chaos make its way to the heart.
Who have seen learning struggle from teacher to child
cannot let ignorance spread itself like rot.
We know what we have done and what we have said,
and how we have grown, degree by slow degree,
believing ourselves toward all we have tried to become
just and compassionate, equal, able, and free.
All this in the hands of children, eyes already set
on a land we never can visit it isn’t there yet
but looking through their eyes, we can see
what our long gift to them may come to be.
If we can truly remember, they will not forget.
By: W.S Merwin
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
standing by the windows looking out
in our directions
back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you
with the animals dying around us
taking our feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
thank you we are saying and waving
dark though it is
11. A Poem of Hope
by: Catherine Pulsifer
When life is getting you down, and you need a little hope.
Look deep down inside yourself, and you’ll find the way to cope.
When life is getting you down, and you need a little love.
Go to the person whom you are the closest, as the rest they are above.
When life is getting you down, and all you need is a laugh.
Find the friend that makes you smile, they may even be your staff.
When life is getting you down, don’t allow it so.
Change the way you think of life, and life will be better, you know.
When life is getting you down, don’t sit and mope
Take action and always have hope.
When life is getting you down, take time to pray
Don’t allow yourself to frown God will help you see the blessings of the day.
12. Be Vigilant Not Late
by: Greta Zwaan
Pray in the time of sorrow; sing in the time of joy,
Give voice to the inner emotions; in trust your faith deploy.
When sickness overtakes you, when days cause endless pain,
It seems life has no meaning, commitments are quite in vain.
How can one think of singing when sorrows pile so deep?
Rejoice amidst the trials when one would rather weep?
Give thanks to God in all things; the happy times, the good,
As well in disappointments, when you’re misunderstood.
God doesn’t say, “FOR all things,” when crisis come your way,
But in the darkened valleys, there’s always room to pray.
God’s patience never falters; his ears hear your request,
Your anxious cry for mercy, when you can find no rest.
He longs to draw you closer, He seeks to draw you near,
But life keeps you so busy, His voice seems not too clear.
Then God allows a valley where you might seek His face,
A time of concentration, renewing of His grace.
God never left His posting, He did not stray away,
It’s you who did the wandering, so busy every day.
The path you’re on is fruitless; your spirit cannot grow,
So God puts up a barrier were you ought not to go.
Hence comes the heavenly message: “Be thankful in all things,”
Perhaps enduring hardships the bell of danger rings.
Pay heed, the call is vital; God’s calling carries weight,
Accept the challenge quickly, be vigilant, not late.
13. Help My Soul To Rise
by: Greta Zwaan
In the wilderness of depression my heart has sunk so low,
I long for a solution but I don’t know where to go.
I have this guilty complex, as if the fault were mine,
As if somehow I’d ventured through a “no admittance” sign.
I feel I ought not be here, I’ve better things to do,
Yet I can’t seem to focus, I’m simply muddling through.
My tears are always present, appearing just at will,
I feel nobody loves me, my world is oh, so still.
In crowds I feel an outcast, as if I don’t belong,
I cannot speak to strangers within a noisy throng.
My mind is all confusion, my heart is full of fear,
I can’t find any solace, what am I doing here?
With haste I rush for shelter far from this mob, this crowd,
No matter what the function, they’re all so terribly loud.
Back to my silent enclave, to loneliness and pain,
To sort out troubled feelings that surface once again.
How do I cast this burden? Find peace to fill my soul?
Where do I get my answers? How do I find control?
Can someone please direct me? Can someone give me hope?
Within this darkened valley I can no longer cope.
The world’s so dark and dreary, I may decide to leave,
I’ve tried but I can’t conquer, I just cannot achieve.
If you could feel compassion, if you would be my friend,
Perhaps I’d seek renewal, perhaps my world won’t end.
I need you to stand by me, but not to criticize,
Give me a firm foundation, please. Help my soul to rise.
14. Life Is A Twisted Road
Life is a twisted road dominated by unexpected twists and turns,
However at the end of the day, it is from them that we learn.
And in spite of being so hard to cross,
the flame of hope ensures that you’re never lost.
So keep the flame of hope always bright and strong,
For as long as hope reigns, nothing can go wrong.
15. Do Not Lose Hope
Do not lose the hope in your heart even on days when success seem far,
Even when all the doors are close, check for windows that are left ajar.
For my dear friend success is actually failure turned inside-out,
Remember this, whenever you find yourself discouraged or in doubt.
16. When The Clouds Cover The Sky
When the clouds cover the sky,
and the rain begins to pour from a height.
When it gets all dark outside,
And you just wish you could stay at home and hide.
A silver lining suddenly forms around the cloud,
And almost immediately the quite turns into loud.
The sun peeks right through and the rainbow makes its entrance,
It is the most beautiful sight, it is the perfect time for romance.
Love is suddenly back in the air,
It is smiling through heaven with pride and flare.
While the darkness is no where now,
It is taken over by light and the earth is smiling again.
For no darkness is here to stay forever,
Sooner or later light will surely arrive however.
17. Somewhere Along The Stony Way
Somewhere along the stony way,
Lies a hidden hope of yesterday.
You probably never noticed it in the past,
But they are joys forever to last.
They will show up when you least expect them to,
And they will reward you with bliss experienced
by only a fortunate few.
18. If You Hope
If you hope there won’t be fear,
If you hope, there won’t be tears,
Hope is a word that believes us to do things,
Hope is a word that propels everything,
Hope keeps us going till the end,
Hope gives us the inner strength.
19. Now That We Have Tasted Hope
by: Khaled Mattawa
Now that we have come out of hiding,
Why would we live again in the tombs we’d made out of our souls?
And the sundered bodies that we’ve reassembled
With prayers and consolations,
What would their torn parts be, other than flesh?
Now that we have tasted hope
And dressed each other’s wounds with the legends of our
Would we not prefer to close our mouths forever shut
On the wine that swilled inside them?
Having dreamed the same dream,
Having found the water behind a thousand mirages,
Why would we hide from the sun again
Or fear the night sky after we’ve reached the ends of
Live in death again after all the life our dead have given us?
Listen to me Zow’ya, Beida, Ajdabya, Tobruk, Nalut,
Listen to me Derna, Musrata, Benghazi, Zintan,
Listen to me houses, alleys, courtyards, and streets that
throng my veins,
Someday soon, in your freed light, in the shade of your proud trees,
Your excavated heroes will return to their thrones in your
Lovers will hold each other’s hands.
I need not look far to imagine the nerves dying,
Rejecting the life that blood sends them.
I need not look deep into my past to seek a thousand hopeless vistas.
But now that I have tasted hope
I have fallen into the embrace of my own rugged innocence.
How long were my ancient days?
I no longer care to count.
I no longer care to measure.
How bitter was the bread of bitterness?
I no longer care to recall.
Now that we have tasted hope, this hard-earned crust,
We would sooner die than seek any other taste to life,
Any other way of being human.
20. Moon for Our Daughters
by: Annie Finch
Moon that is linking our daughters’
Choices, and still more beginnings,
Threaded alive with our shadows,
These are our bodies’ own voices,
Powers of each of our bodies,
Threading, unbroken, begetting
Flowers from each of our bodies.
These are our spiraling borders
Carrying on your beginnings,
Chaining through shadows to daughters,
Moving beyond our beginnings,
Moon of our daughters, and mothers.
by: Rebecca Foust
I made soup tonight, with cabbage, chard
and thyme picked outside our back door.
For this moment the room is warm and light,
and I can presume you safe somewhere.
I know the night lives inside you. I know grave,
sad errors were made, dividing you, and hiding
you from you inside. I know a girl like you
was knifed last week, another set aflame.
I know I lack the words, or all the words I say
are wrong. I know I’ll call and you won’t answer,
and still I’ll call. I want to tell you
you were loved with all I had, recklessly,
and with abandon, loved the way the cabbage
in my garden near-inverts itself, splayed
to catch each last ray of sun. And how
the feeling furling-in only makes the heart
more dense and green. Tonight it seems like
something one could bear.
Guess what, Dad and I finally figured out Pandora,
and after all those years of silence, our old music
fills the air. It fills the air, and somehow, here,
at this instant and for this instant only
perhaps three bars what I recall
equals all I feel, and I remember all the words.
22. What it Look Like
by: Terrance Hayes
Dear Ol’ Dirty Bastard: I too like it raw,
I don’t especially care for Duke Ellington
at a birthday party. I care less and less
about the shapes of shapes because forms
change and nothing is more durable than feeling.
My uncle used the money I gave him
to buy a few vials of what looked like candy
after the party where my grandma sang
in an outfit that was obviously made
for a West African king. My motto is
Never mistake what it is for what it looks like.
My generosity, for example, is mostly a form
of vanity. A bandanna is a useful handkerchief,
but a handkerchief is a useless-ass bandanna.
This only looks like a footnote in my report
concerning the party. Trill stands for what is
truly real though it may be hidden by the houses
just over the hills between us, by the hands
on the bars between us. That picture
of my grandmother with my uncle
when he was a baby is not trill. What it is
is the feeling felt seeing garbagemen drift
along the predawn avenues, a sloppy slow rain
taking its time to the coast. Milquetoast
is not trill, nor is bouillabaisse. Bakku-shan
is Japanese for a woman who is beautiful
only when viewed from behind. Like I was saying,
my motto is never mistake what it looks like
for what it is else you end up like that Negro
Othello. (Was Othello a Negro?) Don’t you lie
about who you are sometimes and then realize
the lie is true? You are blind to your power, Brother
Bastard, like the king who wanders his kingdom
searching for the king. And that’s okay.
No one will tell you you are the king.
No one really wants a king anyway.