Free Verse Poems (29,608)

There - mine self - it stands alone
Let it be - it sulks - let it Weep
Again - that force - some brewery of hate
Churns and Burns - where Nerves were cool
Then silence breaks - from Voice - a drone
As resentment lurks for Nausea to Creep
Wherein its place - the Wars of Fate
Making me to be - this thing - a Fool

O Look away - how dare I stare
Upon that face of mine own reflection
As if I were impressed by its aging look
comparing that image to a Self unknown
Vanity's dream compels me there
Unmeasured time from my life it took
Lifetimes seen from seeds I've sown

Rubbish it is - it is - a knot of mystery carefully tied
An enigma veiled neath the Yoke of strife
a Labyrinth of the dying and living
Bodies to shed like old Costumes Worn
Knowing each one had laughed and Cried
Bound to the Wheel of death and life
While herein this shell - this Soul doth Mourn

O Stop it - you - You ego who Sulks
As if this illusion you never knew
Stop your whining and shape up your stance
Be Free - with me - staying strong and bold
And if the tide-of-pride against Us bulks
Walk with me - our Course is true
We are the Moments of the Cosmic dance
We are the telling of the stories told

The Burning brethren's Words of Hate
Stirring around the embers of ruined books
Left ashes of burnt pages upon the ground
Dispelled for lack of some purpose sent
Everywhere the corpses skewered upon each stake
Dodging where we could the looks and sound
as the wind blew through the town we went

Our nose hairs drenched with the women's stench
unkempt unclean and mixed with rot
Spreading all they had upon each bench
Oooze running from them mixed with a bleeding clot
The whores of evil each priest they had
seduced each one to bid them their fall
It's a horrid place of minds gone mad
a dance of sickness that shreaks its call

Bearing the weak to come and see
The reapers rewards for deeds of past
Where board and nail would etch the streets
Of corpses hung on branch-stripped trees
Each corpse the testament of a curse cast
And in windows for curtains were bloody sheets

Mayhem is beautiful compared to what you'd see there
As the creepers and crawlers with half-attached limbs
would make their way for your soul to burn
The Light fully quenched only the darkness dims
Death abounding at every turn
Hell doth come haunting their eyes through each hungered stare

Knowing not whence the life, my life the bet
As if the Gods against me some bet twas set
Their presence absent, and their silence met

And all I knew each moment would quake
As each rattling bone's motion to move to ache
With Feeble mind and a cognitive delay
That I could be or not be the example that day

Whether to children, friends, family, or foe
I'd seek to inspire that we'd all learn and grow
Yet each movement a bribed stance to the call
I'd make with the movement from the bedroom to the hall

And with wobbly motions I'd make my way
Eyes set on the prize, a few more feet I'd say
A Crowning glory in all its repose
I see the chair for which my longing grows

And one-then-one then one-more-push of fate
A movement daily I'd grow to hate
As children, friends, family, and foe
Might rush in to greet me cause they know

How happy it makes me, that sparkle in their eye
As they scurry with laughter and their languaged sigh
Then poof tis gone, someone elses memory at best
I sit here alone as usual, my breath caught to rest

as I pray my escape for sleep or death quick: with sigh,
A troubling daily routine living here, with this TBI

The Expressivity of the bloom is captured within the strain of the Blossoming Rose. A Melancholic hue fills the foyer of my mind as I tease my transfixed stare with the temptations of pressing upon the thorns a bit harder with each passing stroke as I caress the stem of the Rose. Each leaf dangling there slowly losing its life as it gives all that it has left for the life of what’s more than just a flower. And in my baneful selfishness I contemplate the idea of being in control as I press harder upon the thorns as I contemplate the girl, I am about to give this Rose to. Like the wick of an old lantern that holds what oil is left within it My hope for satisfying her every desire steadily burns within me yet to an end that will come at a time unknown. Yet like the wrecking ball that tears through structures to make way for new foundations courage beckons me to think not of the thorns or the temptations to earn the right of giving, by bleeding there upon them, I am swayed into a luring motion of handing the rose out to her awaiting her quick yet soft embrace of its profound beauty. In my mind the Rose crumbles to dust and ash. Yet in my hand it remains intact ever so vibrant in its warming majestic glow, of Natures endless words, of a love unspoken. And I with trembling knees extend my arm and hand, the Rose leaning towards her as if it was thirsting for the light of the sun. Yet I am poor and can't afford to buy a rose, so I go and pick a Dandelion instead. What Love I have I'd long to give, if I could but afford that which would by grace express it. And then with a saddened repose I swallow my saliva as if it were a melancholic wine to savor, for I hath no one to give the Dandelion to for the girl I'd long to love I had only imagined. Was I a fool for the imagery or a romanticist for the motions? I felt grieved with resentment for it was pointless to pick the Dandelion. Yet for some reason I began to smile as I realized the Dandelion carried within it many many seeds to spread forth its life anew: or maybe, I could just kiss her hand.

You could choose to let that Go
If for you that was your Path
Surrendering to what you now Know
As you become a righteous Wrath
A wrath that strips away all Pain
For in me you see the promise of Truth
Like the Moon that cycles the Wax and Wane
A warrior for Love, a reborn Youth
For Love, Tis true, Is it worth the Journey
That you or I may be reborn to Live
Or like others looking forward that Gurney
A detested life to the grave to Give
Whatever your story or whatever your Plight
I am certain you are worthy of More
I could join you in that dauntless Fight
To be for each other what we would adore
Yet what good the cause if we're too Sad
To see the Social Cues for our Embrace
Or distracted by a past that's Bad
Outrunning ghosts, pains to Replace
Like a pile of chips by the whittler's Hand
Cast aside to ground, a fall to Burn
Or walked upon like some grain of Sand
What good to you, For me to Yearn
Pointless perhaps, For what worth is This
Compared to you it pales neath your Worth
We could be in an eternal Bliss
In me for you, can you see the Birth
A birthing of what you once Bought
Into the storehouse of imagined Dreams
A love that's true that you once Sought
Before giving in to what Doubt Beseems
Can I be for you What you would be for Me
Can you be for me What I'd be for You
Had we both the strength to truly See
That with each other we are truly Free
Free at last from Suffering's Trance
A gift ever true from the Heavens Above
Free to laugh at Dying's Dance
Free to be Forever in Love
All these words a truth in Swoon
So in all of this in what I Say
By the day of Sun or the Night of Moon
I'd ask you this in a special Way
Tell me, Tell me, of thine Splendor
Grant reward, that I Might Do
Tell me of: what I'd Remember
Would you like of me, To Remember You?

Tell me, Tell me, of thine Splendor
Grant reward, that I Might Do
Tell me of: what I'd Remember
Had I your thought, of remembering You
Take my grief and held back Tears
And all the woes I've long Carried
Bury it deep with all of my Fears
Hide it well that it stays Buried
Tear from me the woes of Grieving
Give me cause to born a Smile
Rid me of this anger Seething
Make it worth a lasting While
Tear from me oh Timing's Tension
Grant the Sight to be Reborn
Castaway falls from mine Ascension
Heal me of resentment's Scorn
Break the chains that ever bind Me
To the past of unjust Woes
Take the Liberty and make me Free
Heal the wounds of rejection's Blows
Lift me up, unto thine Splendor
Give me the reason a breath to Take
Hold Steadfast that I'd Remember
Reasons greater for what's at Stake
Be unto me through all of mine Senses
The light of Promise in what will Come
Rid me of the walls and Fences
Assets none, not worth the Sum
At the end of any tunnel's Way
Show me a light or something More
Give me a Sound Mine Ears to Say
You are the Tide of my Spirit's Shore
Shake me gently from depression's Hiss
That I may walk with you Hand-in-Hand
Show me with thine gentle Kiss
That I for you am a worthy Man
Yet take me not to the cliffs of Empty
To Abandon me there to mine last Fall
Do no tease just to Tempt Me
Leaving me to a Soundless Call
For all thine Hours, Days, and Weeks
Be unto me What I'd desire
Give the reason to our blushing Cheeks
Sweating with me in Serenity's Fire
Yet make no haste for an end in Shame
Bearing us both more, the wasted Life
Manipulation, Tug-of-Wars, the Game
Furthering more of a burden's Strife
Be real with me in perfect Glory
In all you Do, unto me be True
Can you make with me the perfect Story
Are you the one to Say I Do
Matters not who fell the Most
Or who hath worn the greatest Frowns
Or who for pain would ever Boast
If in the end, we were both like Clowns
Hiding what we felt Inside
Whilst wearing masks to Entertain
Arguing in circles, The Griever's Stride
Looking for someone else to Blame
Let not this be what we Are
or what we ever could Become
From now eternal to Afar
Let things like this remain Undone
Demand of me what you Will
If I am within, in perfect Smile
If this Storm, you've made it Still
If for you I am worth the While
Can you accept how I Look
Can you stomach when I Snore
Can you look past this weathered Book
And take me as I am and More
Or a ruined Chapter for you, shall I Be
In a Collection of dusted Books Unread
A Poorly written Life to Plea
A cause unknown and left for Dead
Or will I be the Plight that Reckons
Within you a spark of hope Again
A Prayer questioned, An answer that Beckons
In me your Lover, your Eternal Friend
Tis up to you, mine efforts Spent
I've grown weary and Tired of Lust's Race
Twas never that path from whence I came or Went
That Song's not mine, nor is that Chase
Secrets plenty I've shared a Few
Yet not for pity or some arrogant Stance
The rest like colors of a portraits Hue
The Shaken hand of a Painter's Trance
On the canvass of all Pretenders
A painting unfinished in the Mind
Will you wonder what he Remembers
As you think of love in me to Find
Or will you be like so many Others
Lost for greed or selfish Pride
Detested by all Sisters and Brothers
For some Financial Security a Blanket to Hide
To find a cause to outrun your Own
Will you be fake to your own Reflection
As if colder than a frozen Stone
That you may hide your own Rejection
Or will you reject all that comes your Way
Scoffing at others deeply in Love
Turning from the night and Day
Yourself to hate, to push, and Shove
As long as intimacy remains in Sight
Yet not too close, unworthy you Feel
Expectations too many, to see the Light
Of what in me, for you, could be Real
Many others like a mindless Hive
Will you make reasons to Ignore
Whilst faking love-for-lust to Survive
Always knowing you deserve More

///////////////////////////////////////////

My baby left on a journey
To a haven beyond the stars,
She is quietly resting
From this world's pain & tears,
God looked down from heaven
And saw your tired face
He lifted you so gently
And took you to paradise to rest;
Though it shattered my soul to lose you
But you did not go alone
Cause part of me went with you
The day God called you to His blessed home;
I wish I could see you once more
I know its not possible,
But I will meet you soon,my baby,
Never to be parted again;
God can see how much I miss you,
What pain I go through each day
The tears I have shed all these years
Since you went away.

Love is having babies
Watching them being born
so adorned
smells of love
made out of love
This new life
Look into their eyes
See And smell
the innocence of love
I thank God from above
The smell of my grown children
Still reminds me of the love I have for them
Same love now then it was when they were born
The smell of love will never be forgotten

A moment, captured in time.

She has lines of worry and stress,
Her eyes clouded and sad.

And yet, in that moment so many years ago, the lines were of laughter and her eyes sparkled with hope, looking at the beautiful baby in her arms.

A moment, forever printed for the world to see.

His eyes show the sorrows of being alone, his hands show how hard he worked.

And yet, in that moment in print, His eyes hold the pride of being a dad, his strong arms and hands hold his son high with joy.

How precious is that moment in time, when we no longer have the subject, but only get to hold the print.

Remember to live, love, laugh and take a photo.