These Angel Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Angel. These are the best examples of Angel Free Verse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
With every breath I take my body aches,
When I lie in bed I feel my insides hurting.
With every reminder brings me pain.
No more can I find comfort in my home,
The cries of babies stains my mind.
I'm trying my best,
But of course from day to day hour to hour,
I find myself crying.
Memories that morning come to me every day,
Nurses surrounding me my doctor getting on her knees,
Her head looking down,
The thoughts that ran through my mind.
My life entering a new course,
One full of grieving.
He had my face,
My son, my beautiful angel.
He's watching me now,
He left me in tears but he is in my heart.
Is it possible that an angel and a demon could fall in love?
And, remain soul mates for all eternity?
Yes, and I will tell you how it happened.
Maybe, it was a miracle that they met
or maybe it was just meant to be.
That an angel fell out of heaven and a demon escaped from hell
on the very same day.
They saw no one, but each other.
Yet, neither had ever seen such a creature.
The angel was beautiful and kind.
This angel had fallen from heaven
a place of light and life, and of hope and peace.
The demon was imperfect and shy.
This demon had escaped from hell
a place of darkness and death, and of despair and pain.
When they met, their eyes met.
And without a spoken word.
The angel saw only tenderness and hurt in this lost demon.
The demon saw only compassion and love in this lost angel.
It did not matter to them if one had wings, and the other had horns.
Yet, they saw themselves within each other.
Even though they were from two different worlds.
They embraced each other.
Though, they knew their love was forbidden by others like themselves.
So, they decided to remain here on earth.
Where their bond could not be broken.
The heart of the angel was no longer filled with loneliness and longing.
The heart of the demon was no longer filled with torment and sorrow.
Love is what they both were searching for.
And it was found on that very same day.
A forbidden love, everlasting for all eternity.
Nineteen twenty-four and the wind was cold,
When men in uniform entered our town;
Forced us to leave in their boxcars,
Made us believe that it was for our own safety.
With no time to fix our things
We hurriedly got in the box.
And when everyone was in,
The doors were locked.
The place was hell
For not even a whisper of wind
Could enter the place,
Nor could a light shine through its walls.
Our eyes were dry and lips cracked
Plead for just a single drop;
As four nights and days we travelled
Inside the cars with no food or water.
The box unimaginable in its very state,
For dung and human liquid fragranced the place.
Weak-hearted both young and old struggled to live
Even the strong wished not to survive.
And on the fourth day, the box went to a halt!
Survivors were singing songs to God;
“Please end this tormented journey,
And deliver us home safely.”
Light shone as the heavy doors were opened!
We dropped to our knees
Hoping the place was Paradise
But Paradise was it not for we were in Hell.
Ironically, the gate held words
Like that as ‘Beware of the Dog.’
Written in frostbitten wood saying:
“ARBEIT MACHT FREI.”
My mind was puzzled upon seeing those,
How could labor set you free,
When labor here meant
Dying in force and agony.
Jew, work or die!
Jew, never complain and lie!
Those were the words
That became music in our ears,
As we bent our bones
Working for freedom that is bound.
Jew, form your lines!
Jew, the choosing has come!
And in this place we call Hell,
An Angel waits for preys.
Not to feed to its cherubim
But to the ovens decay.
Jew, old and sick!
Jew, to the ovens burn!
As the sun paints the sky red,
A gray smoke danced with the setting clouds,
And in the heavens, the old and sick smile
Grateful to be forever free from the Angel.
On and on, the days passed by
Not faster but years it seem.
Millions were killed by the monsters of time,
Feeding them to the hungry gas ovens.
Then one even night,
I dreamt of food, of home,
Of freedom and safety
And a voice calling me to follow.
I had no choice but to obey,
For in that moment I was already tired,
Sick and losing hope that once was mine
But seem to be forever lost.
On the 16th of March,
I lied still in my shelf.
I slept forever smiling,
With my red babushka in hand.
But disappointed and angry was I
To share the very day of my death
To the birth of the Malach-ha-mavis:
The Angel of Death.
Soft and tender a precious gift you were
never a day I missed to kiss your
dimpled cheeks , or hold your litlle hands
flowers, little buds that held a promise
of a gentle touch or warm embrace.
I know your face your crooked smile even your feeble cry
I knew you love of my life
but did not know your were here only for a time.
You knew me too I could see it in your eyes
sparkling gems that flashed when you saw my face.
Now you've gone to a place far away, to your home in the sky
from whence you came and stayed a little while.
Another angel I have now, this one I know so well
I'll always remember your smile, and dimpled cheeks
your busy hands and little feet.
My guardian angel you've come to be
one I was blessed to meet... to know.. to embrace ....to love...
now I know you came not to stay only to make my acquintance and I yours
My heart is sad for I miss you so my infant child
wish you had stayed awhile.
How I cried when you left and though my tears have now dried
I will always miss you though you stay by my side.
You are my special Angel the one I know best
the one I have held, loved and known, better than all the rest.
Just to let readers know. I have not lost a child. I simply wrote this poem for all
who may have lost such a precious one.
August eighth nineteen thirty-seven her tiny Spirit thus landed on
This distant planet, within a parallel universe her newborne galaxy..
Ancient eyes gazing as yet but another of their own; Celestial's child ?
* ...."Lawana Faye Workman-Sadberry, Born August 8th, 1937, 'Her Beauty,'
A Journey Unto Love's Stars, May 16th, 2013 * 'I Love You Mom,' Always.... *
One of my earliest remembrances in this place; life
Was when I was about three or four years of age
The fear overcoming my heart thinking if ever
I were to be seperated from or lose, my father ?
Within my minds eye I see a small child in spirit
Walking hand and hand with their own beautiful
Father amid heaven turning back to smile; John
There he goes, my dad and myself left sorting....
About this flesh; bittersweet, tides through time
Which touch every life yet in faith I know that all
Shall one day be well; as I wave and into the light
Their beauty's go rejoicing a soul; wiping love's tear.
...."John Harrison Sadberry ˜ March 26th, 1939 ˜ Beauty ˜ To,
December 19th, 2012, &, 'Forevermore ˜ I Love You Dad!'".... *
He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died,
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it,
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain,
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best,
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows
what happens next.
All results of
To be called ..
~ Grandma is a Honor ~
I have been blessed with 4 Grandchildren
~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb " He is God's Angel ~
~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~
For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
Time passed another gift to see
we are " Mickes" and Loved
Our Dad held the title in Baseball
~ that's how we roll ~
those children are Grandmas hero's
The Irish they love big and Family is everything
The brothers will protect the beautiful sister
~ as many lads will be calling ~
Every time my Grandson hits a home run
There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand
It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs
~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
either baseball or Art ~ you shall find your gift given
These children have been blessed~
~ a beauty to hard to describe
If you think not ~~ Take a look at the Mom
That girl can stop Traffic
after raising three and still~
"Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "
May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell
Rain - her story is in her forms
past, present or future, same are norms
Rain – she has a complaint
dislikes being quoted as she (Rain) is FALLING
but had she not fallen
seeds would not have risen
land would have been brazen
Life would have become extinct
such is her importance, so distinct
Rain – she has a compliment
she is loved by all – kids, young, old alike
kids joyous over floating of paper boats
young ecstatic in love over drizzle drumming pane
old ambling in memory lane over hot coffee
raindrops filling Life's ocean with cheerful moments
joy waves kissing Life's shores with each movement
Rain – she is Liquid Devil
water, in excess gushing monstrously
tsunami causing devastation
consuming life all of sudden
destroying flora & fauna
receding water spreading epidemics
drenched havoc failing normalcy academics
Rain – she is Liquid Angel
water, life to all – human, animal, trees
in womb protecting embryo
in tomb blending concrete mix
generating electricity, axis of all motion
offering hope to desert through oasis
frozen at Poles averting earth's nemesis
Rain - her story is in her forms
past, present or future, same are norms
By Hitendra Mehta
Honorable Mention - Members Contest - "Rain, The Story " by - A Rambling Poet
My Son Moon and Star ~
Approaching the celebration of his Birth
cherishing the gift I received
within weeks of conception I knew
something amazing was in Creation ~
the Stars held a party
sending me with one of their own
Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky
It was magic It was destiny taking its flight.
In love with an October full moon
drawing and painting I liked
thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
caught in a loss of time
Hours going by as choosing my color
a wittness to three falling stars
A clear night sky sparkle's
A once Famous Star was sent
inspiring the tiny child inside ~
Never a doubt in my mind at all
child bearing was worth any pain received
yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
one to cherish and hold
My Son was born the following August ~
working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year
as the set of Leverage for 3 years .
Has done a Indie movie here
In Paris it was seen and honored
coming soon filmed in Portland ~
"The House of Last Things "
awaiting the credits , you will see
1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant
My Young Lion Mans dream ~
A proud mom I watch every show and the credits
as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
My Son & Moon and Star
A name you will all know ~
Happy Birthday to my creative Son
you will exist in my heart forever~