These Art Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Art. These are the best examples of Art Free Verse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
He enters looking bedraggled, tired and worn out, his skin like vellum, blank and pale.
Lifting his eyes to catch their gaze he gives a slight nod to acknowledge their presence.
He scans the room as he would a poem seeking an indent that leads to a quiet corner.
A half-lit light casts a shadow on the flock wallpaper, ink stained.
He sits hidden from view, away from plagiaristic eyes. Head In hand
Scribbling while listening for a new word, a muse sings, emanating an un-heard
Beat that guides his rhythm while searching for that elusive vowel. On the floor
Is a scattering of pencil shavings and broken lead, frustration at the loss of an adjective.
The half rhyme squeezes like a tourniquet on the brain…
Frustration runs high as enjambment slips off the page and gathers in reflective pools.
The Lay Pastoral reads an Elegy to the passing of Sir Rondeau Redouble, he lead a very lonely life ascending and then diminishing becoming less Didactic, the Footle holds a Lanterne for the loss, while the Limerick found it quite humorous.
At the bar a Stanza of poets gather, disciples of Villanelle, and regale of their latest triumphs in Women’s Quarterly. Then silence falls as Suzette Prime performs her latest Burlesque she is in good Shape. The Epulaeryu’s compare their Diamante while eating their baba ganoush. At the pool table the movers and shakers decant opinions on the latest ‘form’ something to do with A,E,I,O,U…Acrostic looks it up and down looking puzzled, Blank verse remains silent,
They dissect, analyse the entrails, the faint hearted feel a little Grook. The atmosphere is tense. Verbs drift like dust in the light, causing confusion, they mop their brows with a tired senryu. The haiku’s have little to say on the matter…
A Quintain of intellectuals quietly sit, the Sicilian sipping slim line Monoku’s (no ice) hoping for a Couplet before the end of the night. On a stool sits the barfly spilling his Bio over the counter top exposing an Ode-ious life, metaphorically speaking. On stage the hottest group in town… Chant Royal and the Syllables… singing their latest Sestina it reached 39 in the hit parade, the notes drift across the room resting on the floor congealing into a poet-tree fountain…they feel at home as the last act MC McWhirtle enthrals with his latest Ballad…the barman Ric Tameter calls time, the evening is a Rap. The club is Epic…
“A Flowers Wilt”
Witness the small existence
that abides the beauty of-----------
Freelancers all around,
Just to get a good look.
A baneful abrasion, the flower took
It captivates you -------------
Reels you, steals from you,
Until you pick the right flawless touch.
Dandelions swaying thin,
Here we fall like petals.
Ready to exploit, the beauty of----------
Inhale the fragrance,
Courtyard azure eyes,
Embarking in a wishful eternity,
A crush they become, when loveliness up and left.
A bully against arrogant, threw feminine perfumed veils.
Tulips waiting for better auspicious’ sky.
Asters claim the eclipse's dinginess censors it from the brilliance of the sun.
A lonely rose
In My Helix World-
The out-and-out are born.
Cries in the dimness,
A sweet Lotus echo’
Slight yelps of agony, carried off by pollen breeze.
The earth revolves to fast,
Injections of herbal essence in the wind.
For a split second, we feel pixie dust.
Channel the essential, it fades.
Earlier beauty, calmness-
A flourish smile,
Rusk of flower, a bluebird’s bread.
Like candles and dew they stream and limber energy.
Opposing others of its humane,
Against the command of its importance,
Pierced by its own elegance,
Thriving slowly of its own will,
A short story, gone stray!
The Flower wilts.
The gardener cries.
8) "One could not pluck a flower without troubling a star."
Featuring: SCRIBE ML
Fresh sand garments
the Mental Colosseum floor
self infliction's--waging wars
~ AND THE POEM BEGINS ~
A mask, tiny holes
Dancing around my toes
broad carbon steel
safe behind my will
equipment of revenge
fencing the world with my eyes
I bow, with the morning dew,
my mind a dual in it's own world.
When the curtains lift,
I prepare myself with a weapon--
Epee Crest to protect my chest
A sword sharper than fangs
I circle my blade around the door knob
Ready to face the world
Practicing --in hopes today I won't retreat
A magical knightress
Painted in white
~ THE SHOW BEGINS ~
Queen Amri "VS" The Damsel
Wishing it was over
Stainless steel echoes
“every poke counts”
Hoping & Taking
No room to disengage ---I retreat
Peacefully I secure my stance
I lean in, I disengage ---I flee
Back again, I lunge
The Queen is to smart to retreat
I -Amri, parry away from the argument of the lunge.
Recoil & Double tapped
In and out….. I'm Struck
Back to the drawing board
On guard, I stand like a statue
Out of breath; feels like i’m dying
Yet I am still fighting.
The Queen knows what to do.
I Yield, She Wins!
Raising our foils
---at the on guard of another day
I move in swiftly, cutting like razor blades
Using refreshed energy
24 / 7
I attack, She provokes!
Sand runs its course
Victorious against the queen
touch – tied – triumph -- Touché
Standing on my own 2 feet
I am the
-Grand Finale Show-
Conquering The Battles Inside
Lips of sweat,
Igniting catalyst tune as they burn out,
Crossed eyes, attention spreads
feeling the whiteness in pure magic.
Each memo confronts the other,
Soul cord of depth,
and for one short-lived moment.
Losing sight of reality in a stasis of oasis.
The passionate barb stick notes directly into the atmosphere.
Each message is a flood of scheme,
singing the blues, this smooth criminal
angel of birth, in your hands
luring you to a road in heaven.
The lights are all you feel;
you can see the forgotten masterpiece.
Bathing in it, as the drums go on,
the mob gathers, to feel the whiteness of the trumpet.
He is rotating his saxophone,
making love to the crowd.
His horn come with words that deepens the soul,
the crowd is mesmerized.
He extends his hands,
A standing ovation,
Slamming and whistling,
Louder than thunder,
Mr. Jazz man is done
With no condom at all……………………….
"MARRY ME" -- The Sweethearts Valentine Candy
With passion in every write,
I am the poet that bleeds inside tonight,
Elegant lines of black and white,
I drank a fine glass of red wine.
I LOOK INTO YOUR KNIGHTLY EYES!
Pearly paper and a magazine
I switch the lights to read
Gently I kiss you on the neck
I place a piece of paper inside my diary..
I walked away, with one intention.
Leaving my beautiful purple Amethyst diary on the nightstand.
You did the unthinkable;-O
Page 1 - 50 was all right,
You skipped on over to the day we met.
Once I was lost in twilight
Then I magically found a box of invisible light
There you stood like a diamond ring; suddenly my heart began to sing
I knew your love was more than the beauty that spawned from your soul
Fair and cold like winter blues
January stars following our every move
I treasure every moment we spend like my mother’s cameo
I lift our memories and time framed them like yesterday
A vintage picture, no one can erase or take away.
You skipped back and, opened a page that spoke about my broken dreams.
Smeared cobalt words in every line (AS IF I HAD BEEN CRYING)
Sapphire Glamor of fancy words
Praised that I finally found my amulet
He will protect me with unspeakable powers.
Moonstone & Opal = 4ever
My white shiny Pearl.
SLAMMING the diary shut!!
A piece of paper fell, and you bent over to pick it up.
Your heart skips - - ----- -- --- (when you read your name on the note)
Babe the roads ahead are full of bumps and screams.
Babe we can open every door until we find our dreams.
My sweet love, don't ask me to change like the seasons.
My sweet love, together lets enjoy life and it's reasons.
My sexy man!!
If you are done intruding in the glossary of my life!
I want you to know I'm ready to be your wife.
I know we talk and play about it....
But, today I will write and smile about it...
Will You MARRY ME????
If my mind be painted in colors borrowed, would it be red?
Rusted in brown, or maybe instead, an indigo streak?
Depending upon the source of inspiration,
and the song on the radio at the time of connection...
I keep coming back to sea green,
or the blue of underwater murals at 3ft tall of childhood,
eyes wide in fickle, transient hazel
absorbing each moment, be it safe or unstable
categorizing each scent and each color
each love and each valor
each crisp Autumn, Summer
in vats of brain paint to be later unlidded
and splashed with insignias
of every person and place and event
that ever touched corneas innocent, bent
If my mind be painted, I think it be green
like the moment I'm lucid before I dip dreams
and hang them to dry in the gallery
and push to wake up to connect, signify
every sensory path that I've traveled before
to traipse them again and still come back for more.
I'm a stickler for art and with your canvas blank
my sweet innocent dear, with each word that you hear
you will brush stroke your way to uniqueness.
Grief is not something we “get through”…
you “get through” a bad day
Grief is not something we “get over”,
“you ”get over” a cold”
Grief is not something we “move on from”
you “move on from” a bad relationship”
But Grief is… a companion we “move forward with”,
learning from and growing, with each agonizing step.
Grief is… a heart-wrenching process, not bound by time,
But sets us on a “lifelong journey” of finding truth and meaning…
Grief is not a crutch we hold onto for pity
It is not a lack in character
It is not a weakness that needs to be strengthened
Or a problem that needs fixing
It is not an enemy to be slain
Or like a wild animal, to be caged
Grief is… “A METAMORPHOSIS OF HUMAN LIFE”
YES! that needs “time”… “A LIFETIME”
Grief is… an acknowledgement of true love shared
and true love lost
Grief is… a love we hold so deep within our souls
That our tears fall to caress the pain…
“God given tears”, full of purpose and meaning
For each one carries with it a piece of our heart
grief hugs us and holds us close
to a great love we can no longer touch…
grief is… our friend for without it
our lives would have been a lie.
Grief is…purely and simply a journey of love
It is a friend, to those of us who mourn
A friend who sees what we need and allows us to be us
Grief is a release of unimaginable pain…
a release of a great indescribable loss…
Grief is… the bridge that crosses repentant oceans,
spans desolate canyons, and fear filled mountain tops.
that we may cross over this tragedy to a renewed heart
by means of the love we shared and continue to share
through the love of our Almighty God
A pain we can use, to broaden our hearts
and the hearts of all those around us
it is… a road we must travel to gain wisdom.
A level of wisdom you will never achieve by playing strong.
For only when we sink to the bottomless pit of grief
Will we be awakened by the light of truth.
Do not judge it… for it contains Gods secrets
Secrets you can only hear by listening
through the blare of the pain.
It is a sacred contract to be in awe of and inspired by
To learn from and grow from
To gain compassion and understanding from
It is a journey that holds a sacred contract
That will be signed by each and every one of us
Who has the strength… and the courage…
to love with all your heart and all your soul.
It is not a journey I would wish on anyone
But now that I am here I will walk it with honor
And purpose, with my head held high and my feet in stride
For at the end of this road there you’ll be,
waiting to take me home.
~poet at night~
I lay here in the dark all alone with my thoughts.
Gazing up where the stars hang above.
I feel the tides reaching my toes.
Inhale and exhale is the way it goes.
I found the most relaxing breath.
My dreams at this point is all I have left.
The air blows and hardens the tips on my chest.
I let my mind wonder about the man I love.
Dwelling over the feelings only I know of.
Allowing my mind to drifts into the ocean of salted waters.
The waves carry a silent poetic whispers into my ear.
At last my heart breaks every code from silent windtalkers.
I close my eyes to feel the deepest pain locked in my soul.
The water rises up and grab the will by the hand and lets it go.
Floating with the tensions to release what I log in and log out.
Wakening up to the screams of a life guard and his poetic eyes.
Melting my heart away with his poet cries.
Lost at sea every night, waking up to the most dreamy sight.
I found my self in the arms of a poet at night.
When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender
and exchange inestimable treasures
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
When the cloak of darkness descends, it’s easy to get lost in it…
I fell, I admit.
me with its sweet seduction
and I plunged in as though held by glued in tentacles.
My days were filled with drunken hallucinations
My nights withheld peaceful ministrations
But I didn’t ask for help.
I was a mountain, right?
And I covered up my fault lines with blanketed illustrations.
Resulting in a heart shattering avalanche –
The mountain lay in rubble.
Skeletons proved more alive in comparison.
Word spread, rumors flew.
One by one they presented themselves, friends, relatives, curious onlookers:
Disgorging their well meaning gibberish
Spewing their illogical advice,
Spluttering their self-
And my heart became hardened.
My ingrained ability to withdraw into myself forcefully simmered outwardly.
One by one they left.
All except one.
You came near, sat besides me, took my hand and gently squeezed it.
Your warmth infused into my body and slowly a tear fell
down my cheek.
You held me in your arms and I felt it –
penetrating through my back, piercing right through my stone heart,
reigning in my anger,
breaking ground to allow for a new heart.
And I knew that was my turning point –
The exact moment when you squeezed my hand.
So…I thank you.
…You are the one that saved me.