Free Verse Poems (29,539)

When I became a member of the Poetry Corner over 10 years ago, this place was warm, welcoming and a balm to one's soul from the weariness of the world. It was a happy place and we were loved and supportive of one and all.

Over the past two years, someone had come here and caused one heck of a ruckus. Tomes were written and feathers were more than ruffled.Finger pointing and accusations were a ' flyin'. Some even left to never return because of it all and then some.

Sides were taken and sides were listened to without bias nor complaint. questions were certainly raised and not in a good way. Screenshots saved, e-mails saved, page upon page of accusations and blame gaming have been SAVED. RECEIPTS have been kept should anyone have need of them. The long and end game is now coming into play.

For two years, ugliness has reigned here and for what? Oneupmanship, someone ALWAYS has to be on TOP? What For? It boils down to ego and control. You know what it does? It causes new members to leave and for older members to stop sharing their works. It makes us ALL look bad. Every. Last. One. Of. Us. It becomes a self-containing, navel gazing echo chamber. Surely you want better than that? Right?

We should be better than this. We should be behaving like responsible, mature adults. Instead, the walls have been crumbling down here and have for two years. Continue on as you are going right now and this place is FINISHED. This shouldn't ever have to said.

Please keep my words to heart. No STALKING, no harassment, no more sadness for all and sundry. I'm law enforcement so be sure to take care with words and actions from here on out because CONSEQUENCES will be coming for us all. Be supportive of one another, gently guide and remember to always be kind and gracious TO ALL.

ReaderOfSouls (ROS)

The sun slowly drifted away and shadows crept in
The air slightly cooler as the darkness deepened
Creatures scurrying to their dens while still light
Others waking up to welcome the dark night

Edge of the world trimmed in pink, purple, orange, gold and red
Like apologizing for the colorless black night ahead
The moon and planets debuting in the sky
With constellations and stars of summertime

Scary ragged black shapes silhouetted against the sky
Reaching upward with crooked branches way up high
Black bats flitting around catching tiny buzzing wings
While a large ground chorus is warming up to sing

A mist on the pond like a low cloud from the sky
Adding a mystic air to the night-time cries
Floating like a ghostly mass across the earth
Providing cover for many night-time critters to lurk

Soon several mixed voices fill the night-time air
Soothing the soul like a bedtime prayer
Open windows inviting the night sounds in
Drifting to sleep by the Lullaby on the wind

Author: Kathy O. © August 15, 2017

If we achieve some of our hopes today
Then we become worthy ourselves to heed
Worthy as to imply our importance Hurray
Only imploring a greater sense of need

Truly a need to understand ourselves
And a need to understand our differences
Where might we rest our efforts to succeed
I think it is important we create sustainability

An ability for people to get together and conference
Speak about things and talk to each other to discover
A common purpose that we must seriously advance
Perhaps the environment for some, equality to others

Whatever your rhyme or whatever your reason
Together we can resolve what needs to be done
Get up and dance and enjoy the season
For all you know you could be one and gone

Seems it's been my faith for a long time
That God would keep me young till I can have a life
Yes it's been that way a long time
And someday something good will be in sight

Stormy weather can't last forever
There's not enough rain to wash away all my dreams
Someday life will be so much better
For what's in my heart was put there by the king of kings

I'm writing are you reading is there anyone
Now on this page this is the time for me to write
Don't you believe God will keep me young
Till I can have a life

Seasons come and seasons go
And when the ground is covered with snow
My thoughts of her will still be sweet
Follow my tracks and a young man you will meet

Your future hangs
on a seamless lines of hopes
to make up for the torrid
love affair of morning and night
of a dream that seems to dwell
on all your sorrows
on a life you wish you had
up until now.


Your child that has yet to be born
on a future of uncertainties
you built your strength
on their hopes that their years
will count for generations
unlike you..
it has to end right here
among the shadows of
torment and hopelessness
in a foreign land
where you haven't even have a clue
on how they spell, write and say
"i love you".


But you knew, as you were
facing the front lines
of whose sides you would stand on
their truth or yours, like
it makes a difference
knowing it will be right...
this war that divides
whose supposed to have
the truth of who's wrong and who
is more deserving to be right,
but...


Did you know?
those whose lives, ransomed
for freedom to make you a hero?
felt the same sentiments and hopes?
the same aspirations and ambitions?
same pains and sorrows
and like all of us,
they, too, have a heart,
have a soul that is pierced
by the bullet of hatred
we sustained in believing
that their death is our
prize for freedom.


Is it?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

.. and now we cross to our anchormen down at the stoning ground..
"Well another big night Yossi, for all you viewers at home we've got a full card of action all going straight hot to the satellite.."
"Terrific, who's on the card Levi?"
"Well first up we have two homosexuals, always a crowd pleaser, a sun worshipper, then a promiscuous woman.. its going to be a big night."

"First up the homosexuals, they look like they care for each other, does seem a bit cruel don't you think Levi?"
"Leviticus 20:13 Yossi, can't sidestep that one, God's punishment, and here come the stones.."
"Now on to a sun worshipper, but it is Gods creation is it not Levi?"
"Deuteronomy 17:2-7 Yossi, launch the stones.."
" And next the wife who slept with the neighbour, quite a transgression given they were both married Levi?"
"Quite a transgression Yossi, Leviticus 20:10 in action, pile on the stones"

"Well that's half-time, think I will duck out and give a prayer to the loving God Yossi"
"Yes might be worth your while Levi"

Life has loneliness up for sale
All washed up on the shores
Like bones lying on the shale
Bleached by a sun that soars
A discarded shell of a snail
Restless and consuming wars

Life has loneliness up for sale
A midnight walk to nowhere
Dreams of scented pines inhale
Where spirits dance and dare
And silence and sighs exhale
Where the tired soul is left bare

Life has loneliness up for sale
Nothing left to give away for free
More than beauty of our youth prevail
Countless days with no great fee
Followed by those tears that trail
The memories that we let go free

Should I drop you this note
I drew up waiting for a bowl of gumbo?
I was dining alone
cause naturally, again, you're a no-show.
You thought I didn't know
about dirty dancing in the shadows,
doing your two stepping two-timing tango
at the by-the-hour worn seedy bungalow,
with your three undercover maestros—
Larry, Curly, and Moe!?
Welcome to Dante's Inferno!
Yet I do recall the good days of old.
You are playing the blues on the bongos.
Does it make sense? Maybe so,
since locked in the hollows
sits a dusty jazz piano.
Lockjaw deny your solos
blowing the piccolo
but one still can always grow
popping pimple faced souls
until the end of tomorrow.
Sorry to lash out, I'm just feeling my sorrow.
I‘m losing you, my Piedmont pillow.
Anyway, do you recall it started as a joke
writing "Ode to the Fallen Angel, Billie Joe”
starring in the Twilight Zone.
The ode unfolds
before fleeing on rails like a hobo
down Mt. Kilimanjaro,
it starts to snow.
During which she had an episode
losing her halo
slipping from her dome
when dipping her bent toe
into the dark cosmos
when suddenly she sinks into a forbidden doze.
Like banging one's funny bone,
It provokes an overgrown
Purple one eyed one horn fire breathing hippo
slurping down a school of translucent minnows.
Flops herself onto a rising manifesting moonstone
after the beast's deep bellow,
She escapes by the skin of her nose
sneaking out in stealth mode,
beneath a timely magic downy robe
but still, her loss was a dire load.
Yet, the halo plunged like an oscillating gizmo.
Topping light (What did Einstein smoke?),
when heading for ground zero.
Somehow catching in slow-mo
a swooping sparrow
snatching it up by coming in low
but dropping it like a dirty hoe
on seeing a dancing scarecrow
doing the mambo
with a Hispanic hallucinating gringo.
Never scare off the black feather fellows—
each of them having a mind of their own.
Scavengers are at home
grilling up some squirming lizard toads
on the torched summer back roads,
down like US 95 thru Moscow
of course, not in Russia but Idaho.
Yet the halo continued to roll,
for years through, God only knows
till it finally landed in Chicago
on the Antiques Roadshow.
Shown off by an ancient crone
or was it the halo-less Billie Joe,
who is in incognito
sadly, needing some extra dough,
who lived by her lone,
making a cameo?
After snorting too much ginkgo
she began drooling over its host,
a fat sweaty Longfellow,
who smelled like pork roast.
By sampling his ear lobe
on buttered milk toast
she outdid her hero
the flaming Vincent Van Gogh!
Anyway, back to the poor bloke,
During a ceasefire and seeing nothing that doesn't show.
Was bemoaning a logjam love flow
When caught dangling at the end of his rope
swinging low to the tune of Desperado
oozing in and out from solid-state radio.
Horribly, giving up the ghost,
wearing a black necktie yoke
(An unforgiving dress code).
starting with Edison's first hello,
a silent telephone
freshly landmines, another crushed mofo.

Love-Precarious
by Odin Roark aka Kent Bateman

For some
passion’s garden is of carnivorous plants,
saccharine seedlets once resting,
becoming precarious flirtation,
artificial tears destined to betray.

For others,
even accepting the navigation of thorny defenses,
the garden is of edible rapture,
a discovery of that which nurtures love's growth,
the harvesting of passion's nourishment,
the tranquil celebration of emotion's singularity.

How innocently we hoe the rows,
cultivating anticipation
while the pistil's epicurean appetite
patiently welcomes nightfall
and the restful closing of its portals.

And yes,
the garden also knows of dust storms
laying flat once vigorous adventure,
placing thirst upon parched hearts,
leaving only hope for the quench
that an honest teardrop of joy can give.

But still,
imagination offers limited resistance to voracious winds,
a tempest determined to reveal chameleon-like weeds
sprouting upward into the gale
from cauldron-rich soils
invading passion's tenuous resistance,
seducing the trusting gardener in us all.

Inevitably…

One’s need will succumb
at least once to amour’s sleight of hand,
reducing blooms of flowered seduction
to but gathering mulch,
leaving passion reaching up,
asking the unanswerable…
the why of drought,
the way for magic,
the overcoming of love-precarious.

How should I know, after I’m gone,
If I was mourned
By anyone I loved; by anyone at all
Who knew me whilst here?

Should I bother, to spend another
Moment, wasting time in torment
Because I doubt that I’d
Still want to linger near?

Should I take time to say goodbye,
(Before I die
And leave this world behind)
To those I thought most dear?

Should I fear, when Death’s light hovers
And I’m finally free?
Free of my flaws and sins;
Free from the pain and tears.

Why…should I?