Free Verse Poems (29,538)

Her hair fell down in starlight tinted tresses,
Splashing every wave in silver light;
And all is hers when Earth Goddess undresses;-
(Old soul in young body makes her spright);
True only if my memory confesses,-
Her presence makes for earthly delight;-
A woman with a spirit from the stars -
When Venus lies juxtaposed with Mars.

Maybe all the planets in alignment,
Will suffice to bring an earthly visit;
To draw a man from his heart's confinement;
Is the reason she appears (this I posit);-
When she senses in another one refinement;
She descends from her celestial closet;-
From ancient dust that once was made in stars;
To haunt some lonely soul in city bars.

I see a distant star - is that the Lady?
Or just a lost diamond from her ring?
If I search the Milky Way, then just maybe;-
She fleets among the dust to find her king?
And in her star-clothes, luminous and hazy,
Her celestial vibrations she will bring;-
Though sometimes she will act - (as through a minion);
Earthly Affairs just part of her dominion.



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Death's Hooded chair

Once crafted by a French,
It was imbued with a curse,
On a equinox midnight,
Agent of Death on its way came to rest,
upon the 13th hooded chair it sat,



and left some of its magic when it left,
abrupt when the owner stole a glance,
He mistook the figure for a burglar,
And went swiftly to the chair to inspect,
Finding nothing to be damaged he test,
by sitting on that cursed hooded chair,



Deadly silent was filling in the air,
His mood changed dramatically,
A sense of foreboding doom across his face!
He knew his time on earth was up,
Just before he left the hooded chair alone,
He placed his tools upon its seat pad,
That was a Mark of one resigned,
Never to ply his craft again.



A note he left to his loving wife written,
LET NOONE SIT ON THIS DAMM CHAIR!
for i have seen death rest and placed his hand!
No mortal will live a fortnight,
should his body lay upon it to relax.
He died the following week,
A crate of snakes fell beside him,
The cause of his death was poison from snake bite.



His widow left everything behind,
Soon another tragic tale would began.

to be continued. . .

Fly me to the moon
Even if it’s on a spoon
I want to go up there and see
The light you shine down on me
You never let me down
Every night you come around
I want to dance
just you and me
Take me to the moon
I’ll sing you a tune
All afternoon
You mesmerized me
You are my prized light
I know tomorrow you will be around
You never let me down
My shinning light
I’m gonna say good night
For tonight
My ever-loving moon.

Mirror mirror on the Ceiling,
Explain to me this peculiar feeling
As I gaze into this reflective glass,
I recall the time I Tanned your a**

Towering astride in my leather Gear
The Countess is present she's really here

Strong and formidable kinky too
She's a lot to handle for a guy like you

Mirror mirror on the Ceiling explain to me what you're revealing

This woman I see in the reflection
Is it truly me
Or self-deception

Mirror mirror on the Ceiling
Who's this guy at my feet kneeling

Massaging my toes with frankincenseand & myrrh
Who'd believe this would actually occur

Once a woman oppressed subjugated and demeaned
Now takes flight after being quarantined

Agile winged Crane
Soaring new hights
The released child thrives whilst the flame ignites

Mirror mirror on the Ceiling You now bring comfort and therapeutic healing

iron sheet harbour
junks rise and fall
a hard sleep night
on the Orient wall

murder melody
esprit de corps
razor diplomacy
a sliding door

perfumed vixens
tender more
a strangers paradise
in the dragons jaw

About once every 5 years I chance upon Lladro porcelain figurines, most usually in a sojourn in a mall where they materialise on the hard-to-reach shelves of trendy gift stores. My first encounter would have been in my teens when I distinctly remember thinking these overpriced little ornaments from Valencia were not only kitsch but were only loved by grandmothers, certainly over 60, who had mildly lost their reason as to what is appealing. Not only that but I divined that if I ever felt any warmth for the little pieces I could duly assume I had suffered some excessive ravages of time and my claim to reason might be somewhat faltering.
Bottom line, appeal of Lladro I believe to be a test of time.
So with some surprise today I spotted an assortment of pieces that actually brought me some joy, Madonna with child, and a country girl inspired figure. For the first time I saw the tradition and romanticism behind the figures and took time to consider the shades of colour and dedication to detail to produce a work which
exudes a cultivated classic charm. Certainly more charm than I now hold for a Che Guevara t-shirt and mordant attitude to anything bearing authority. In 5 years time, who knows, I could be an ardent collector, at each sunrise and sunset the small silent drift to Lladro seems irrepressible :)

When I was growing up Nancy Reagan had an infomercial
"Just say no"
I believed that was the answer
Just say no
But
Her husband was giving lots of reasons to say yes
Like job losses
Helping people from other countries take jobs either here
Or take those jobs to the people over there
No help in making the minimum wage better
No help with medical bills
I have seen the effects of drug use
I see it in my pocket
The check I had to write to help pay for my Dad's funeral
Because the money he had saved for 35 years was gone
Stolen by their grandson to fuel his drug habit
I wonder with the pandemic if drug use it way up
Probably

Such a short life the sunflower has;
but, aah, the glory of it! From its
small, flat, pointed dark-brown seed,
it seeks out the moisture of the soil.
Using summer-sun heat, it bursts,
portending an elongated exterior.
First break in its life-encasing shell
gives way to a sprout, straight up,

ready to go. The stalk displays
the chlorophyll product
of solar rays as its sprint
to meet its creator begins.
Inch begets inch as
cells beget leaf after leaf—
each thick, verdant, curly—
showing off an expansive surface

eager to absorb and transform
light and rain into energy.
This factory continues to
work, day in, day out, until
its efforts begin to pay off
with a much-anticipated reward.
A one-and-only bud forms
on the now-towering stalk.

Thick and rough fibers
stacked side-by-side under
tiny hairs glistening in the sun
give texture to brownish-green stem
join forces to remain erect
able to sway in the gentle
and oft not-so-gentle breezes.
Yellow-gold ray florets begin

to peer out into the world above—
with little thought to what got
them to such great height.
They spread themselves out
proudly in a spiral pattern
handed down to them, ready
for the kiss of the rain and
caress of the butterfly,

forming a vibrant ring around
the future - dense, dark, prickly
to the touch - filled with promise.
As its work is completing,
the sunflower bows its head
to the birth-giving ground,
gives thanks for its season,
waits for the cycle of life to repeat—
this reaching for the light.

Chaise à capuche mort

Une fois conçu par un Français,
Il a été empreint d'une malédiction,
Sur un minuit équinoxe,
Agent de la Mort sur son chemin avant de s'immobiliser,
sur la chaise à capuchon 13, il était assis,
et a laissé une partie de sa magie quand il a quitté,
brusque lorsque le propriétaire a volé un coup d'œil,
Il prit la figure d'un cambrioleur,
Et il est allé rapidement à la présidence de l'inspection,
Ne trouvant rien à être endommagé, il test,
en restant assis sur cette chaise à capuchon maudit,
Un silence de mort se remplissait en l'air,
Son humeur a changé de façon spectaculaire,
Un sentiment de catastrophe pressentiment sur son visage!
Il savait que son temps sur la terre a augmenté,
Juste avant qu'il ne quitte le fauteuil à capuche seul,
Il posa ses outils sur son coussin de siège,
C'était une marque de l'un a démissionné,
Jamais à nouveau exercer son métier.
A noter qu'il a laissé à son épouse écrite,
LET NOONE s'asseoir sur cette chaise DAMM!
car j'ai vu repos de mort et placé sa main!
Aucun mortel ne vivra une quinzaine de jours,
si son corps lui assigne pour se détendre.
Il est décédé la semaine suivante,
Une caisse de serpents est tombé à côté de lui,
La cause de sa mort était poison morsure de serpent.
Sa veuve a tout quitté,
Bientôt un autre conte tragique aurait commencé.

être poursuivi. . .

When in April the sweet showers fall
And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all
The veins are bathed in liquor of such power
As brings about the engendering of the flower,
When also Zephyrus with his sweet breath
Exhales an air in every grove and heath
Upon the tender shoots, and the young sun
His half-course in the sign of the Ram has run,
And the small fowl are making melody
That sleep away the night with open eye
(So nature pricks them and their heart engages)
Then people long to go on pilgrimages
And palmers long to seek the stranger strands
Of far-off saints, hallowed in sundry lands,
And specially, from every shire's end
Of England, down to Canterbury they wend