Most Liked Free Verse Poems (29,543)

I’ve been to the edge, and I stared straight down,
A large empty void, no escape, no sound,
Whispers from ghosts of days gone past,
Years ticking away, life moving on way to fast,
Reflecting on the person I was long ago,
Seeds of the future that began to grow,
Searching for something that seemed out of reach,
My soul for the taking, to Him I beseech,
Save this soul I screamed to the clouds above,
Aren't you suppose to be a God of love,
Questions arose that seemed so far,
Heartache and pain that left a scar,
To each that seek the answers to your own sin,
Search no further than your soul within,
The Man upstairs will leave you to ponder,
To let you decide if want your soul to wander,
Understand which path you have chose to stalk,
Understand in the shadows where the demons walk
The answers are the test for you to learn,
To fail the test in the fires you shall burn,
There is no end to this story you have just heard,
Just comes from some feelings that have been stirred,
Still learning the lessons that this life still brings,
I just know it is God who pulls the strings.

Ah! Amor … If I were but a romantic, what words
would I pen! But what does an innocent know of romance!

Captured in Ecstasy within your sparkling moon lit eyes, pools of wonder, fascination and entrapment.

Senorita listening to your captivating heart beating deep within, surging with unknown depth of human romantic sin!

Heart of splendor beating there for me to know.
Eyes of destiny, beckoning, flirting, calling me softly, whispering ever so low!

Mystic feelings deep within, glowing, burning awaiting a kiss from you, awaiting both of us to fall into mortal sin!

Cloak of darkness is upon us, may dreams of fantasy
enter your night and dream of me as I creep into your chamber of slumber!

Feel my nearness as my kisses caress the nape of your neck, the touch of my lips upon yours!

The feel of my exciting fingers tingling as they touch your finger tips and explore your forbidden places!

Sleep thee well
Until the morrow
Buenas Noches mi amor!

My love, my sweet love,
Were are you?
What are you doing?
Do you still think of me betimes?

I think of you often,
I think of your young eyes, and I start plunging deep within them,
Quickly losing myself in their supernal nature,
Two, deep, dark, delicious orbs,
Looking at me with such alacrity, sophistication and enquiry,
Summoning me to celestial enchantments…

I think of your intoxicating nape,
Remembering the many blissful hours I spent nestling in it,
And a headiness usurps me that totally upsets the balance of my sensitive senses,
Aaahhh, your aura, your vivacious energy, leave me a ‘wreck’, a totally pliable slave of your love…

I think of your shapely hands,
Hands that have not yet been marred by middle-age[like mine] and an unforgiving life,
Hands that are steady and sure,
Hands that caress me with such tenderness, that my feeble heart begins beating irregularly…

Finally, I think of your ruby-lips,
Young, eager, full and so erotic,
Aaahhh, what thrilling kisses we shared,
What engaging conversation we shared as I listened when you would excitedly recount your most recent University Professor’s Philosophy lesson, and of your life as a freshman…

Where are you my love?
Where are you?
So near yet so far,
Always next to my heart, yet you’re plowing other oceans now,
Surfing other waves,
Exploring other shores…
Where are you my love?
I miss you so…

Lost and gifted,
Gone and wasted,
Yours is affected,
From the devil's anointed!

Why pray thee tell,
An invitation from hell,
The evil spirits can dwell,
In holy pastors, nuns and good Christians as well!!!

Caution it's hot be warned!
Your answered prayers are stolen!
Many will read this and be in self denial,
Dont you feel guilty at times and cant control it ?

Movies, serials and internet cannot be trusted,
Forget the politicians, lawyers and doctors,
Your neighbours and friends are your nearest deceivers,
Its not their fault they have been their own prisoners for years.

Men making out with man,
Women making out with woman,
Dont forget cousins and incest,
And now you want to get married?!!

How can you be faithful to your religions?
When you cant be truthful to yourself!
Sex is not love committed nor a show of affection,
Its just another form of prostitution.

The laws of men can be twisted,
When the devil's advocates rules the system,
NO religions will accept or make an exception,
Then you bring your own downfall and demise.

Poetry is words set to love.. or dreams.. a magic of the night and an eternity of longing. Poetry is an excuse to sing and be bold, weave magic from words to fabrics of the heart. Poetry is dance and song, words that echo and touch. Words are not love but in their sounds are all the songs of love and magic; laughter and song, desire and truth. We are to love to give, to create to sing our songs of joy to our Creator. Love is the glue and magic of the universe.

Come here,Poet;

I have entered the paradise
of those who walk over hot coals,
who dream of arctic snow, who scream
because a continuous commotion vibrates
the web stretching out
from the autumn moon


those who carry on their shoulders
the breath of Spring
we longing with grass that curls
in under a cannibal sun

what is there tonight to remember, poet?
sadly the opposites
held their tense postures
& the matter-of-fact of things
rocked on the slow boat of what is normal

but the moment you came back to me
creation collapsed
then a new world arose

(pause)

the numbness of having lived in death
peeled like a useless skin of an onion
& spinning concourse of nameless chances
spoke with their intoxicating tongues

once, in that language
you learned from eternity
I thought you said, "Soft ring-tail
& the turtle dove....:

& I was listening
with more than ears, captured
in a delicate repose, poet

so it is true
that too much totality subdues us,
our senses, like a summer day
musically exploding

I have heard this called
the holiday of botanical popping

but please, please draw nearer to me poet.

come here
let me look at you, & hold your hand
& believe that the planet you gave rise to
is suddenly too embarrassed by
closeness of my sky

it's birth in that same dark river
that found us once
& made our fortunes

this evening I call recall only
sensibilities of giving joy &
being overwhelmed by the sweetness
of awakening beside you

discovered immersed in the too much
of that generation out of touch,
I am as dumb as the first moments of experience
actually, only a God could determine
the fruit of intention, whose reflex
leaps into physicality like a sleeper
stirred from the renaissance of dreams

I reach over & my hand rests
across your breathing chest
reality whispers.

~SAS~

Made in belfast
Set sail on the open tide
New york destination
Fastest speed

Ice blast seas
Ice bergs ahead no slow speed
Crash of wave
Thunder roar of engines

Ice warnings no slow speed
Ice berg ahead
Warning ignored
Crash band

Colsion
All stopped silence engines stopped
The great ship lost
Tide rushs in in the gret linner decends
Lives lost woman children saved to the bottm she lays
The great ship lost
The seas the the grave

Take my pen and hand me a sword.
Take my sword and hand me a pen.

The Donau held its breath, turned blue, & died,
the hills could only stare & shake
their complacent heads,
the winds avoided Bavaria all together
as the pale apes butchered her shapely neck--
smearing blood upon the kiss of revolution.

I Poet, if you can hear my feeble howling,
say to me you understand;
say to me the spirit, the phoenix,
knows my name.

Do not tempt me, inferno of the mind,
to chase to embrace idols of paper.

It is not the offended world upon your ears
but the strong rush of blood
to your head,
Poet, my love.

You can only be dead,
with the spittle of laughter
shiny where your lips meet,
because we need you dead.
Alive, you are like us. . .
useless to our uncertainties.

Yours prayers I read, at night,
while metaphors hide from the day,
they echo in my scenarios,
legitimate glitches.

The horn broke the skin,
in some bar room, I suppose,
all German accomplishments begin in bars,
replaced you were not,
but slaughtered, & eaten,
I can only hope that
your blood, on impact,
did not run from the block,
or was caught in a chalice,
but splattered on everyone's
cheeks, & one of those marked
returned to the bar where the horn first rose
testified before He who sits at the end of
the bar.

~SAS~

The game called life there is a door

The one who has to be born,
He already exist in the world,
and he will be tight up on Earth
tired and old.
And we will kill him,
but very slow,
with refine torture,
to stop loving us,
to take away our hopes,
to see that in all our experiences of
Cataclysm's
Life mud is up to neck,
and we can't get out of mud
until last farewell is said
To our yesterday mistakes.

We are often victims of our own entangled
Misfortune.
Who is stealing my keys to unlock the door of my fortune?
And death is strangling us around neck,in our mind,
in fears,crazy -passion,
Entangling in self we fall victims
To see hook for hanging
In it's own desires.

Oh dream,sweet dreams
also caries lunatic in his brilliance;
Dream of undying Love,
Dream of undying Loyalty,
doesn't always find man in Man strong
To carry out what he wish for
In another.

Yesterday mistakes
some times gets knitted in present
when awakening old wound,
Self sacrifices also discovers Selfish reasons,
To remind us of our highest position
in the lowest scores...

Don't give yourself fully,
don't attached yourself to things,
you will find the death of feelings in Pain.

Who is walking with me at night like shadow?
Does man carry self in himself to win his awakening?
Much selfishness is entangled with old sorrow that cries;
To run free...
To be understood,to be comforted with care,
But dark is stronger when given week hand.
And perhaps the only hand we need stronger,
Is our own,in balanced thoughts
Flushed with sun,
Accepting our-self,
And find reason - without reason to laugh,
When getting dirty in mud.