Random Free Verse Poems (29,541)

hate me if you want i love you love me if you must im cold im tired im alone without you im alone scream at me make me cry tell me im wrong close your eyes i love you

This path of memory,
On which you have walked for so long,
Will end, if your were to proceed a few steps more,
Where it diverts to oblivion’s desolation
And from there onwards neither you nor I exist.
My eyes, still on you, wait that any instant,
You may return, pass on, or just look back.
Yet, I am aware,
That it is merely an illusion:
When I believe that if my eyes
ever embrace you somewhere,
A new path shall erupt there;
And a similar encounter shall resume;
Under the fall of your locks,
The journey of my arms.
Then, the other situation is just a false,
Because my heart knows:
There is no diversion, desolation or hiding,
Which may conceal my beloved from me.
So, while this path erupts under your feet,
Let it be so;
And if you never even look back,
It doesn’t matter.

Fire burning, my blood is pumping,
Taking a deep breath to gather my stamina
Wiping the sweat off my forehead;
Thinking, ‘that was too close’,
I almost lost it, losing control.
Heaven once more returns
With fantasies of angels hips,
Swaying so gently between my lips.
As mountains rises,
From a slumbering earth;
A sudden cry,
Echoes from nesting birds.
Trouser snake entering,
It's a predator alert.
Ruffling feathers,
Penetrating the scene,
While a nearby volcano rumbles,
Erupting soon it seem.
Exploding at the peak,
With lava flowing,
Oozing from every seams,
As the liquid runs dry,
Exhausted from the night,
Only silences remain,
After men's lustful nature,
Temptation has won it seems.

Old Maids, Headstones And Advice Come Free

Well meaning advice taken, I shall read
everything to aid my writing I need,
on the back shelves of my local library
under the title “Poetry”.
Not, of course, the ‘Very great’
‘the masters’, ‘the bards’, the ‘very late’
but modern stuff, you know
those little books that help collections grow!

With untouched pages that sit like old maids!

Still waiting, hopeful still
time passing, with time to kill!
Like headstones on ancient graves
after death, when God pulls down the shades,
with faded words passers by feel obliged to read,
you know, before reality can proceed!

But don’t forget old maids too, are free.
Well, some day it might be me,
someday, it might,
if I take the advice, and write!

sonofadam

Chewing…relentlessly
Chomping on gum,
Open jawed cow

Telling me its routine
Nothing strange here
Life chewing normality

Don’t question me
Do not question the normality
Any idiot can see…

she is dieing…

not me.

Feel how the earth moves
shakes rattles and rolls
Is nothing firm beneath my ground
Only where the waters soothe
a tired soul that travels alone
Searching a beach of understanding
Next to the ever changing tides
Are those cycles we call life
that washes and wears us down
So it is each day like each tide
becomes a little more worn down
washed smooth through
over me and you

With reluctance friends enter the unexplored woods
immediately Mosquitoes try infiltrating their hoods
They suddenly become spooked by an eerie sound
as other airborne pest begin to swarm around

They commence to machete through dense brush
moving cautiously determined to stay hush
Group huddles closer while forwarding deeper
faces depict fear of alerting a Predacious sleeper

Body parts bleed from prickly scratches
shedded skins lay visible in patches
Ominous echoes permeate their ears
eyes opened wide reflect hidden fears

They turn to one another uttering not a peep
realizing they may have ventured too deep
They seem paralyzed about what to do
adrenaline gives fight to continue through

Each stare at one another with thoughts the same
let's fall back to entrance from which we came
They all scurry as their hearts intensely pound
after exit exhaustion drops them to the ground

The memories will never fade away
Nor will the unending laughter.
You’re up there with Granddad because
Heaven’s angels needed your smile
Words can never really express a person
Especially one that was as unique as you were
The unsettled feeling of your departure has left me;
Confused, sad, lonely and sore
You have found a place even more magical than the last
I hope your journey was a safe one and that you are up there
on that cloud with a Betty Neels book and a glass of baileys,
counting and kissing all the cats you lost.
I know deep down that I will see you again no matter what happens for me when my time here on earth is up, you will be there arms outstretched ready to hug me tight once more.
I love you Grandma
Rest in peace forevermore

Darkness off the night
The kiss of the frost in the air
Moving tree sssss
Flutter
The cold darkness
Shadows
The wind blows hisses sssss in the trees
Shadows envelopes
Darkness scares presenses white glowing outlines
Slow movement
Whispers of voices beware
The glowing spectures
Of them who have been
Life now gone from them
Resident of time past the wind echos from the stone headstones
Their name careved the rememberd they are

There's an old road that swings to the west,
Out from Cleburne to five Mile Pass,
Through sunflower fields,
That bloom every fall,
And through an ocean of prairie grass.

To most it's just an old highway,
Nothing special, nothing fit to explore.
But to those who would see
And would listen with heart,
Well, I swear it's an awful lot more!

Oh, I've driven that road, its length and its breadth,
More times than I even recall.
It wasn't that I needed to get there from here.
Guess I drove with no purpose at all.

Except that I go out to listen,
For Old State 174 has its song.
A sweet melody,
From each sagebrush and tree,
For the road's dying echoes I long.

I hear the lost beats of ponies,
Of the Caddo who lived here, they say.
And Express riders rode,
Through the cedars and flats,
Lonely shadows, long lost to today.

And I can hear the drummed music of soldiers,
Come to keep a peace never in doubt.
In the end they all fled,
'Cept the ones that were dead,
To go fight for the North or the South.

Yes, I've traveled that trail, I've been there and back,
One hundred times, maybe it's two!
Just rambling along and enjoying the song,
And the time's all but lost in the view.

So these days it's the track of new drivers-
Trucks, cars, eighteen-wheelers and all.
Sometimes an old tractor,
Or a combine creeps by,
Slowing traffic to nearly a crawl.

And some say that it's all about progress,
As the neighborhoods creep steadily west.
Soon the pronghorn will be gone,
And the meadowlark's song,
And they'll argue that it's all for the best!

But for me, nothing's changed, I'll continue to roam,
Out from Cleburne through the sagebrush. You see,
It will take more than mere progress,
To destroy the road's magic for me.
To silence Old State 1743.