Free Verse Poems (29,538)

In this soft woven skein; - a chrysalis,
Nests the close-swaddled fabric of her young;-
As life grows ripe with Nature's catalyst,
In a soft downy womb - that's silken-spun;-
Now with the dew of morn is crystal kiss'd,
The young worms glow, as first rays from the Sun,
Bathes each swelling grub in morning light;-
Caterpillar gold, from the depths of night.



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Twas time for lunch
I went to the shop
I bought one orange, one banana, and one pear
The woman behind the counter says
"I can tell you live alone"
I says "Just because I buy small quantities you think I live alone?"
She says "No you're just feckin' ugly"


I asked my boss for a pay-rise
He said "No you cant"
..at least I think he said "cant"

This is some….
Morning blues
Tasting these
Morning dews
Be amused
I'm amused at these stews
In the pot boiling
Always toiling
Winding n coiling
Chain need oiling
Battery flat
Running on empty but the ego still fat
Rat trap
Flap clap
And snaP
Out of it
Turn around feet on higher ground
The time's not later it's now
POW!
In ya face
Embrace your place in this space
And waste
No time
It's not a crime
To smile n shine
Yes oh yes Uncle Wray is a good friend of mine
But we don't need liquor for a quick fixture
From within paint the brightest picture
On this
This air I breathe
Makes me believe
That I am
And so I be
Thank you very much n yes please

You need to bury your son up at the Indian burial ground Stoch
Your son will come back sour because the soil is sour
He will kill me, your wife, and you will bury your wife up there too
She will then show up and kill you
Sometimes dead is better
But so is broccoli
And you'd rather have a bucket of KFC wouldn't you Stoch?
So let's start digging so we can bury your boy
And in the process bury ourselves

I just spent about 48 bucks on some fake flowers for the top of your tombstone
I gave you 100 bucks back in 2006 when I worked for Americold
A job you helped me to get
I didn't like that job much
But it was better than Lactalis
Now you have been away for one year and nine months
What have you been doing?
A lot of fishing, trapping, napping, eating out, ginseng and morel hunting
Spending time with your dad and your step dad
I know you didn't like it where you were
I didn't like you being there either
Unable to move and do all the things that brought you joy
Away from your grand kids and your home where you had privacy
I posted pics of you on facebook of you doing all the things you enjoyed
Happy 85 Birthday
And
I miss you a lot!

I like the bus shelter man
he's out in the spring sun
reading the racing form
on racing carnival day
"Dad's Boy for mine,
he'll run like the wind today,
then I'll bring daffodils home for the wife,
and even the dog
will be pleased to see me" he says
"Victory is assured!" says I
and he grins at his new found friend
slaps me on the shoulder
"it's you and me against the world kid" he says
then the bus took him away

Delicate merge, of pinks and blues
over a sky, with beautiful rosy hues
As a baby's quilt, gentle pastels fade
Awe inspiring moments, nature made

As night-time eases, to overtake
Day time, as the sunshine makes,
Hasty retreat, allowing the night
To take its place, dark from bright

Gentle shades, must soon disappear
Spring twilight, in peace without fear
Preparing all, for the summer to come
Time for cooler nights, from summer... run....

Blast the basic primitive notion

to conform to the norm
or sware by another's devotion.

A brick placed against the same

In order to wall off trouble
will only in time be lost in the rubble.

So pay little heed to the dominant suggestion

when interference with in

leads your heart into question

when the common embrace

seems as one of oppression

You have a will to weild

In the right of your own choosing

And if so compelled

To choose such a path

You find in choice of persuing.

And knowing damn well
On who's account will be held

If your choice ends

by chance of you losing.

But then again

by that same choice you may win

The results of it all will only depend

Not by opinions of others

But what feelings are felt

That you alone will feel at the end

The heart of man is very much like the sea.

It has its storms.
It has its tides.

And in its depth it has its pearls too.

Wordsmith and poets, weave-sew
Phrases-words, kneaded like dough
Mixed together, eased into verse
Poetry-descriptive, kind not a curse

Lyrics of songs, can't control fate
Lighthearted banter, can act as bait
Strung together, a storyline unfolds
Whatever the subject, gentle or bold

Words lead to a journey, possible delight
Encouraging followers, with hidden insights
As a patchwork quilt, tells those who know
Where fabric came from, the dressmaker sews

Memories, reminders from a former time of life
Gift giving pleasure, brings happiness not strife
Poets can tell a story, as song lyrics can weave
Dreams of hope and pleasure, joy another receives

So smile when you read, or sing a song for pleasure
Maybe it holds special words, you can treasure
From back in time, unlocking memories past
Triggering the mind, so special thoughts last

Written words so special, to memorize over time.
Woven by the wordsmith, to retain in the mind
Released into a moments, unlocking-images-signs
Yet all they really are, words strung to form a line.