Here is a list of Most Viewed Free Verse Poems written by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
THE BLUE SHIELD
It’s my birthday today
But my Daddy had to be away
He’s out protecting other families
To keep them safe from tragedies
I miss him but yet I understand
I know the meaning of the blue band
Our family is special in a way
Because Daddy does special work everyday
He is the protector of all children like me
So they can run and play and be free
Free from fear and terrible things
He is a special Angel without wings
If He did have wings they would be blue
Like the shield He wears for the world to view
Mommy says we should pray to God for Daddy each day
That He will protect Daddy and the people He saves
Please thank my Daddy on His special day today
That He protects everyone as they go out and play
Please say a prayer for all blue shields and families everyday
To keep them safe always and keep danger at bay
But my Daddy had to be away
He’s out protecting other families
To keep them safe from tragedies
I miss him but yet I understand
I know the meaning of the blue band
Our family is special in a way
Because Daddy does special work everyday
He is the protector of all children like me
So they can run and play and be free
Free from fear and terrible things
He is a special Angel without wings
If He did have wings they would be blue
Like the shield He wears for the world to view
Mommy says we should pray to God for Daddy each day
That He will protect Daddy and the people He saves
Please thank my Daddy on His special day today
That He protects everyone as they go out and play
Please say a prayer for all blue shields and families everyday
To keep them safe always and keep danger at bay
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2015
About this poem:
Today is Thank a Policeman Day. Please also say a prayer for their safety from those who have been taking their anger out on innocent policemen. After all - they have lives and families too.
The rain is falling...
The rain is falling,
My head is spinning,
The train is arriving,
My mind is dreaming.
The rain is falling,
My body is shivering,
My eyes are drooping,
The weather is cooling,
The rain is falling,
The cats are barking,
The dogs are meowing,
And somewhere a baby is dancing!!
The rain is falling,
This is not happening,
My mum is shouting,
Tantrums at me for day-dreaming!!!
This world is changing,
People all around are starving,
Liars and cheaters are playing,
While the rain is still falling...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2012
About this poem:
It is still raining ...my mind is sleepy so a whacky ,tacky poem I present you all...dogmy raining catday ...Smile I know are reading and laughing !!!
Ancient Bullman
Non-Stop Raindrops
Seasons of anguish in rhythmic rotation...
Meticulously taking their time...
Summers of sadness...
Winters of madness...
Thoroughly mine...
Like the inner-workings of a complex clock...
Gears of misery, memory blocked...
Autumn emotions...
Springtime erosions...
Raindrops of pain refusing to stop....
Meticulously taking their time...
Summers of sadness...
Winters of madness...
Thoroughly mine...
Like the inner-workings of a complex clock...
Gears of misery, memory blocked...
Autumn emotions...
Springtime erosions...
Raindrops of pain refusing to stop....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2014
Post Comment
THE DRAWER
Their belongings were buried side by side
In a shallow bureau drawer. There was her
Crocodile handbag, letters, a brooch,
All that was in the bedside cupboard
And a small green jar she’d had for flowers.
My father’s were in an envelope:
A khaki lanyard, crushed handkerchief,
Twelve cigarettes, a copying-pencil,
All he had on him when he was killed
Or all my mother wanted to keep.
I put them together seven years ago.
Now that we’ve moved , my wife and I,
To a house of our own, I’ve taken them out.
Until we can find another spare drawer
They’re packed in a cardboard box in the hall.
So this dead, middle-aged, middle-class man
Killed by a misfired shell, and his wife
Dead of cirrhosis, have left one son,
Aged nine, aged nineteen, aged twenty-six,
Who keeps things they used in a cardboard box.
In a shallow bureau drawer. There was her
Crocodile handbag, letters, a brooch,
All that was in the bedside cupboard
And a small green jar she’d had for flowers.
My father’s were in an envelope:
A khaki lanyard, crushed handkerchief,
Twelve cigarettes, a copying-pencil,
All he had on him when he was killed
Or all my mother wanted to keep.
I put them together seven years ago.
Now that we’ve moved , my wife and I,
To a house of our own, I’ve taken them out.
Until we can find another spare drawer
They’re packed in a cardboard box in the hall.
So this dead, middle-aged, middle-class man
Killed by a misfired shell, and his wife
Dead of cirrhosis, have left one son,
Aged nine, aged nineteen, aged twenty-six,
Who keeps things they used in a cardboard box.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2011
About this poem:
Just a poem I wished to share with you ... many things in our house keep reminding us about our loss ... loss of parents is the heaviest ever ... when we are left alone, on our own in real and confront the perils of world with no backing of parents or in fact no backing at all.
online now!a great man, my dear Phil
possessed with kindness
unequaled in generosity
to have met you, we're blessed
so endlessly
you are the epitome of courage
you are a salt of the earth
humanity is enhanced
because of your presence
I can't stop thanking you
a dear friend it is so true
how lucky we are to have known you
now please enjoy and celebrate
the wonderful day of your birth.
Happy birthday again my dear friend..
until we meet again.
unequaled in generosity
to have met you, we're blessed
so endlessly
you are the epitome of courage
you are a salt of the earth
humanity is enhanced
because of your presence
I can't stop thanking you
a dear friend it is so true
how lucky we are to have known you
now please enjoy and celebrate
the wonderful day of your birth.
Happy birthday again my dear friend..
until we meet again.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2015
About this poem:
I have met so many people in my life but no one I can give my great respect and honor than to a most wonderful man named Phil.I am so lucky to have known you my friend.
An Open Letter ...(Elo and Socrates' challenge)
thanks guys!!!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2013
Post CommentHappy New Year!
Thinking, oh, how good it was! Thinking on this New Year’s eve,
Thank you, friends, for taking time, speaking high about me,
Many kind and gracious words may be thus addressed to thee,
You’re my refuge and my ties with the world outside of me.
Thanks for all the good you've done and for more you are to give,
Toast of joy let’s lift to us, toast to luck in joyful glee!
New Year’s coming, we're on eve, let us wish ourselves good things,
Let’s be joyful at a time when our planet takes its leap
To a new and wondrous start! New Year’s coming! Let it be!!!
Thank you, friends, for taking time, speaking high about me,
Many kind and gracious words may be thus addressed to thee,
You’re my refuge and my ties with the world outside of me.
Thanks for all the good you've done and for more you are to give,
Toast of joy let’s lift to us, toast to luck in joyful glee!
New Year’s coming, we're on eve, let us wish ourselves good things,
Let’s be joyful at a time when our planet takes its leap
To a new and wondrous start! New Year’s coming! Let it be!!!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2010
About this poem:
I wrote and posted this poem last year, and couldn't think about anything better, so don't bear me grudge if I post it again.Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, fellow poets!
Square Circles
Cornerless cubes descend perfect transitions...
Landing in perfect positions...
Geometrical-shapeshifter sick tragic visions...
In flawless conditions...
Rigid-bodied dynamics succeed...
Tipless triangles, lines in between...
Square circles...
Round rectangles...
Nothing is ever quite what it seems....
Landing in perfect positions...
Geometrical-shapeshifter sick tragic visions...
In flawless conditions...
Rigid-bodied dynamics succeed...
Tipless triangles, lines in between...
Square circles...
Round rectangles...
Nothing is ever quite what it seems....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2014
About this poem:
Remix
The Truth of A Liar
You come as a shadow
A silhouette of a perfect man
A bunch of dreams in your hand
You paint the rainbow at horizon
A heaven’s view on this earth
When it comes to the juncture
The rain and thunder ease the shadow
No more silhouette or dreams
There is nothing left behind
But the truth you tell the world only one
That you are truly a man
A silhouette of a perfect man
A bunch of dreams in your hand
You paint the rainbow at horizon
A heaven’s view on this earth
When it comes to the juncture
The rain and thunder ease the shadow
No more silhouette or dreams
There is nothing left behind
But the truth you tell the world only one
That you are truly a man
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2010
About this poem:
where is the lonely word of honesty ?online today!WEAVING A SPELL.....
Early morning, when mist clings to trees
In wooded hollow, only stirred by a breeze
Close by, lapping of ocean weaves a spell
Image of peaceful security, nature sells
Nature after dark, can be a scary place
When misty wooded haven, changes face
As spindled branches, adorning trees
Stretch-catching anything, moving free
Vision is restricted, by cloudy skies
When moon and stars, stay hidden on high
Uneven ground, with scattered roots trip
As leaves and wet soil, under feet slip
If lucky light filtered, by a shiny moon
Looking down upon scene, uplifting gloom
Stars may twinkle, allow spiritual lift
In a place where echoes, haunt and drift
Yet on a peaceful morning, at waking dawn
Nothing appears sinister, a new day born
Welcome's hope, to caste its magic spell
AS warming sun convinces, all is well......
In wooded hollow, only stirred by a breeze
Close by, lapping of ocean weaves a spell
Image of peaceful security, nature sells
Nature after dark, can be a scary place
When misty wooded haven, changes face
As spindled branches, adorning trees
Stretch-catching anything, moving free
Vision is restricted, by cloudy skies
When moon and stars, stay hidden on high
Uneven ground, with scattered roots trip
As leaves and wet soil, under feet slip
If lucky light filtered, by a shiny moon
Looking down upon scene, uplifting gloom
Stars may twinkle, allow spiritual lift
In a place where echoes, haunt and drift
Yet on a peaceful morning, at waking dawn
Nothing appears sinister, a new day born
Welcome's hope, to caste its magic spell
AS warming sun convinces, all is well......
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2015
About this poem:
a wooded area by a beach.....Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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