Last Liked Free Verse Poems (29,539)

THE MUSE: EDELWEISS – Vol. I
*** Part II: Poetic Pillars – Questions and Answers ***
[ XXIV ]
*** Why to be humble ***



“Act
Wise
- For
All
Seek
(to) Bow
Fey
‘Till [ : their : ]
End; –

*** Root ***

Walk
Slow,
Aid
Mind
- Free
Eye
(to) Seek
Nest [ : in/to : ]
Bay –

*** Root ***

Birth
Rise
New
Hopes,
- Each
Ray,
Seed,
Fall [ : (ing) : ]
Now… ”





©Th3Mirr0r

(2018+ / 2019)

THE MUSE: EDELWEISS – Vol. I
*** Part II: Poetic Pillars – Questions and Answers ***
[ XXIII ]
*** When is the right path ***



“[ : When :] Joy
Fills
Each
New
Heart;
- Void
Was
Found
Firm; –

*** Root ***

Cry
Of
(the) World
Was
In
[ : each : ] Blind
Eye
To
Blame –

*** Root ***

Get
Gold [ : (en) : ]
Sword
- And
Deal
Pains,
For
Each
Heals; – ”





©Th3Mirr0r

(2018+ / 2019)

You see, or you don't see me.

I am there, not sad, not happy.

You read, or do not read me.

Love is there, not coming and not going.

You love or do not love me, love is there, no increase or decrease.

You follow, or do not follow me.

My hand is in your hand, not to be abandoned.

Come into my arms, or, let me live in your heart.

Love each other in silence, like in silence.

THE MUSE: EDELWEISS – Vol. I
*** Part II: Poetic Pillars – Questions and Answers ***
[ XXII ]
*** Why people change ***



“My
Path –
Close
To
Feel
Change
In
Warm
Light; –

*** Root ***

Day
And
Night,
- Far,
But
Clear,
- ‘Tis [ : but : ]
[ : an : ] Old
Dream –

*** Root ***

Root
Deep
Faith,
- Each
Path
Leads
[ : ( to / a ) : ] Duty
Call [ : it : ]
Fight; – ”




©Th3Mirr0r

(2018+ / 2019)

NOW THIS IS THE TALE OF YOUNG FREDDIE BLOOR.
WHOSE s*xual PARTS GOT JAMMED IN A DOOR.
BY THE TIME THEY HAD FREED HIM, HE DIN'T FEEL WELL,
FOR HIS POOR PRIVATE PARTS WE'RE ALL MANGLED TO HELL.

THEY RUSHED HIM TO HOSPITAL, THE AMBULANCE FLEW.
BY THE TIME THEY HAD GOT THERE, THERE WAS NOTHING THEY COULD DO.
POOR OLD FRED WITHOUT ANY CHOICE,
LEADS A LIFE OF NO SEX AND HAS A HIGH SQUEAKY VOICE.

BUT LUCKY FOR FRED, SO HE WOULDN'T FEEL A FOOL,
SOME BRIGHT SPARK INVENTED A BIONIC TOOL.
A BRIGHT NEW SHINY ONE, MADE OUT OF BRASS,
THOUGH THE BATTERIES WOULD HAVE TO BE KEPT UP HIS ARSE.

SO NEWLY EQUIPPED AND AFTER A REST,
FRED THOUGHT HE'D PUT HIS NEW TOOL TO THE TEST.
FINDING A WOMAN, THE NEAREST ONE HANDY,
HE PLIED HER WITH DRINK AND MADE HER FEEL RANDY.

SHE UNDID HIS ZIP AND PUT HER HAND ON HIS C**K,
BUT WHEN SHE WAS DOWN THERE, SHE HAD A BIG SHOCK!
"THAT'S MY BIONIC CHOPPER." FRED SAID. "AIN'T IT A BIG ONE?
COR BLIMEY SHE SAID. "I THOUGHT IT WAS A GUN!

SO F*****G AWAY FRED TURNED TO FULL BLAST.
HE DID NOT KNOW HID C**K WOULD NOT LAST.
WITH A "BANG!" FRED'S LEFT BOLLOCK SHOT INTO THE AIR,
THEY COULD NOT FIND THE OTHER NO BLOODY WHERE.

SO BACK TO THE HOSPITAL TO SEE WHAT THEY COULD DO.
"WE HAVE A SPARE ONE, THAT'S LUCKY FOR YOU".
SO ONCE MORE EQUIPPED AND AFTER A READ,
FRED CONNECTED HIS TOOL TO A PLUG AND A MAINS LEAD.

GOOD OLD FRED, NOW HE DON'T HAVE TO TRY,
FOR NOW HE'S AC/DC AND CAN GO WITH A GUY.

THE END.

I fear if I run out of ink
my thoughts will cease to flow,
No longer free to roam around
where they desire to go.

Caught up in a stasis as my
mind begins to congeal,
Severed from my senses I find
I can no longer feel.

The proof of my existence is
my words upon the page,
Without this free expression I
feel my world is a cage.

How could I ever tell you what
my writing means to me,
Dear children born within my mind
and then I set them free.

I love my thought's many offspring
they're so dear to my heart,
I give them freedom to grow and
with my blessing depart.

I let them go to make their own
way in the world so wide,
My heart nearly bursts they are the
source of my greatest pride.

Your eyes know that I have waited so long, as I have waited for summer for a bird, and slept like the sleep of a migrant.

"The beginning of a novel is a time of
awful when you're dealing with a lot
of dead pieces and you have to wait and wait for
some sort of animation" ~Iris Murdoch

Poet,
The blank page
is terror.
The blank
screen is too.
How do I dare
to impose
my prejudices upon it?
~
How do I dare
to assume that
what I have to say matters to anyone--even me?
~

It's that mysterious
leap that distinguishes
the dreamer from the doer.
I myself always trick myself into starting.
"No one will ever read this," I say.
"Moreover, no one will understand it."
Sometimes I make as many
as a dozen starts.
Later I realize they
were all different ways of
sneaking up on the same material.

~

I was stalking my poem
from many different angles
--but I don't see that until
I am well and truly launched.


"The last thing we decide
about a poem is what to put first"
This has always been my experience.
If only I could relax and remember
that this game of hide
and seek with my poem
is the only way I know of refinding
the playfulness that making up requires.

(pause)


Candlelight
flickering
beautifully
this morning, dancing
on the walls
like thoughts
dancing
beautifully
inside
a poet's mind.

Yes, sweet poet, we must
let go. We must
take leave, pass on.

Words
are our way
of polishing
the rough stone surface
of existence.

Words
are our way
of pounding nails
into walls,
and mounting
our pictures
in the hallways.

~

Regardless
of our efforts regardless
of our thoughts, and our prayers, and our ideas existence
does
exactly
as it pleases.

and we are here
to please it.

Act only in ways
that will please existence.

Act only
in ways
that will move existence forward.



like tumblers
falls
behind the wall
of a safe,
our words
turn
the keys
to the puzzle the keys
that swing open
the doors the keys
that will keep
the image
safe,
and release it, too, into the winds of eternity where it belongs /
where we
eventually
will travel.

~

We
are the ones
who weren't intended
to be here

We
are the ones
who were intended
to be gone



We
are the ones
you see starving
at dawn.

We
are the ones
who are lonely, and alone.

We
are the ones
who drink coffee
at coffee shops
at the edge of the universe
while peering
at the abyss



Dance
with us
only
if you dare.

Close
your eyes
and help us seduce
the night

We are safe
in the city

We are safe
in ourselves

We are safe
in the workshop
of our talent

~

Aspire
to greatness
by doing
what must
be done
and leaving the rest
for the universe
to take care of.

~

I better close.

I will write again soon.

SAS

_____________________

Sometimes I felt like a waterfall
Where water never stops to fall
There are times I want to cry
But I don't know why

The pain hurts so bad
Small things makes me feel mad
Pain relievers are the best
I hold it all in my valuable chest

They say hydrogen peroxide is the key
But it is absolutely not a guarantee
I don't want to stain my dress
Because that causes me a lot of stress

I can't believe I'm writing this
I just want to say my piece
I experience monthly hell
That it is hard for others to tell

The coffee has cooled in the cup upon the counter
so silent it rest since you last set it down

so silent
so damned silent

I did not know that in closing the door you
had packed the life that once was my home

so empty
so damned empty

Words and expressions once flowed with ease
pen upon the paper reveals naught
are there words to express this vacuous life

the poet dies
the damned poet dies