Newest Free Verse Poems (29,538)

The lonely hydrangea, on a shelf
In a pot
It was not
Where he wanted to be.
For he had aspirations
Beside the carnations
In a bed more befitting to he.

Where bees fill their pockets
And foxgloves hold sway,
He'd grace
Such a place
One fine day.

In shadows of orchards green,
Dappled light,
Apples bright,
He would be part of the scene.

But alas came his Autumn, and blue
Turned to brown
Barren gown
Showing winter was due.

How sad his last bow
In the night,
Waxen light
Of a moon pale, will not wake him now.

You touch me with your love and care
Shower me with loving attention and affection
You tell me you don’t care
If you have me by your side
for one day, one week or a year
Anytime I’m free to walk away
But I refuse to give in to my loneliness and desires
And use you this way

You tell me you don’t want anyone else
But our interests are not aligned
Our heart waves are not tuned and signed
To each other and to our inner mind
We come from two different worlds
Like the sea and the desert folds
That only meet when it rains and cries
But You tell me you don’t care
If you have me for one day, one week or a year
Anytime I’m free to walk away
But I refuse to give in to my loneliness and desires
And use you this way

You would have made the perfect husband and father
Had my heart not been a maze
And the key lost without a trace
I’m not the simple girl you need
But You tell me you don’t care
If you have me for one day, one week or a year
Anytime I’m free to walk away
But I refuse to give in to my loneliness and desires
You have value and worth
The temptation to give in to what you say
Is beating at me from every doorway
But, you are precious in God’s eyes
And I refuse to use you this way

The devil came knocking on my door today
He didn’t really have any words to say
He was in the neighbourhood
Looking for bad and no good
He was looking for armour he may chink
Sarcasm in his eyes death in his wink
He was in the neighbourhood
Looking for bad and no good
A smell pervaded his every move
Unsettling the balance of the groove
He was in the neighbour hood
Looking for bad and no good
He stole the shine right out of the day
Laughed in the face of dark grey
He was in the neighbourhood
Looking for bad and no good .......

Today is the day you left us,
No more greetings at the door,
No more sorrowful eyes,
No more dozing on the floor.

Today is the day you left us,
All hurting inside,
All full of emotion,
All teary-eyed.

Today is the day you left us,
I wrote a poem for you,
I hope you've always known,
I love you 'n always will do.

At first not caring that some statues and memorials were being removed.
As well as the naming of schools, highways, buildings, etc.
I thought that I understood.
But it seems as though there is no end to it.
Eventually, there will be no naming of anything nor statues nor memorials of
anyone.
As time has passed and continues to pass how people construe what is good,
bad, or indifferent has and will continue to change.
There is a skeleton in the closet for everyone.
For example, as much as we love and respect John F Kennedy and Martin Luther King, they were both purported to be notorious womanizers.
Some might think this to be a moot point but THIS is the POINT.
Which sin or indiscretion will be viewed as allowable or not and by whom?
History was what it was.
One can't alter that.
What we can do is teach the truth of our past, present, and future.
Enlighten our young.
Show them that love and charity are the brightest paths to follow for shared happiness and the preservation of our freedoms and liberty...

Poppies bright
A scarlet light
In meadows sombre.

The crimson sway
Illumnes the day
Amid the furrows.

Winds blow keen
And frail stalks lean
Comes soon the parting.

Petals quiver
Soon gone hither
In the yonder.

So sweet June
Will come back soon
In new beginning.

Poppies bright
A scarlet light
Once more in showing.

I think of then as I force this pen
Into empty words of current ken
Of mice and men
And scores and ten


The man was a boy when he woke and cried
And I recall the night
When tiny arms lifted for rushing height
To bring slumber when tears had dried


No need was felt to plan his start
So I watched as he grew
Knowing of some compass needle dart
And point to site that drew


The boy was a man at a river place
Where he found passion'd grace
In forest of tall or stunted trees
In lashing heat or cooling breeze
In elephant walks
And kudu stalks
In eagle's soar
And lion's roar on the long grey greasy shore


It's where he was and chose to stay
Where he'd return after spell away
To 'rousal and spend's together lie
Under wide and cobalt sky


No one saw the shadow and no one spoke
Nor thought of hearts forever broke
In taste of his press from happy venture toil
Without trace yet of bitter foil


But as it will the shadow moved
And anguished folly proved
For what was and wasn't done
In that brief together run


But no point to portion blames
And wrong to see death as tort
For I cite myself amongst the guilty names
Though others too hear echo fade from life so short


Yet statement stands that he was ever rare
He'd shoot beasts down
And tell campfire stories as a crown
But now he isn't there

Still, what did remain did return to those spaces vast
When into wind and stream it all was cast
And though I know that life doesn't last
I pine for his laughter pass'd


His ashes scattered of course I grieve
Knowing that the place that was his love
Where now his spirit roams above
Was mere pause before the mortal leave


The man who was a boy in murder died
And I dwell on every why and how
Because I loved him once as I love him now
It's why I am to sorrow'd memory tied ...
That ghastly night it was I who cried
As I do, for my tears haven't dried

"What happened to your pickup seat? Is that buffalo track?"
Well, I guess you had to be there. We had a cow attack.
It all began when me and Roy went out to check the cows.
We'd finished lunch and washed our "soap" and forced ourselves to rouse.

We's pokin' through the heavy bunch for cows to take and check.
I spotted one but his 'ol mom was bowin' up her neck.
She pawed the ground and swung her head a-slingin' froth and spit.
Then bellered like a wounded bull. "Say, Roy," I says, "Let's git!"

But Roy was bent on taggin' him and thought to make a grab.
"Just drive up there besides the calf, "I'll pull him in the cab."
Oh, great. Another stroke of genius, of cowboy derring-do.
Sure-'nuff when Roy nabbed the calf, his mama came in, too.

And I do mean climbed up in there! Got a hoof behind the seat.
Punched a horn right through the windshield and she wasn't very neat.
She was blowin' stuff out of both ends till the cab was slick and green
It was on the floor and on the roof and on the cow vaccine.

If you've been inside a dryer at the local laundromat
With a bear and 50 horseshoes then you know just where I's at.
At one point she was sittin' up, just goin' for a ride
But then she tore the gun rack down.The calf went out my side.

I was fighting' with my door lock which she'd smashed a-passin'by
When she peeked up through the steering wheel and looked me in the eye.
We escaped like paratroopers out the window, landed clear.
But the cow just kept on drivin', 'cause the truck was still in gear.

She topped a hump and disappeared. The blinker light came on
But if she turned I never saw, by then the truck was gone.
I looked at Roy,"My truck is wrecked. My coveralls are soaked.
I'll probably never hear again. I think my elbow's broke.

"And look at you-yer pitiful. All crumpled up and stiff.
Like you been et by wild dogs and pooped over a cliff."
"But think about it," Roy said. "Since Grampa was alive,
I believe that that's the first time I've ever seen a cattle drive."

Friction restriction that lies between gravitating energy the force of being.
The melodious rhythm of the binary code pulsating waves of wholly interdependence.
The nucleus of the radiating burn through the marbled sands of dune.
The solar plexus of the big orange peeling.
The coupled pulsars revealing.
Sinema waving peak-to-peak peaking.
The chronology filament glowing in the dark.
Ages of eon through the prism reflex.
The flying furlong of time counting on the hand given and taken away.
The measured movement of the point-to-point pointing.
The final hurdle the greatest leap leaping.
The recalibration of the workings of the mind minding.
The currency of the decimal charge charging seated at the right hand of the father.
The beginning of distance relative flowing through the hindered seam.
The cause and effect of the broken dream.
Parallel(s) shared the carried fluid.
The united front of weight removed.

He will be tall or small.
A good heart.
A man complex backed with a good nature.
Fun but serious
Talented but silly when required.
Compassion with desire
He may be the perfect man
But for my part I will do all I can