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Holiday Free Verse Poems | Free Verse Poems About Holiday

These Holiday Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Holiday. These are the best examples of Holiday Free Verse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

TOMBSTONE

Whistle does the lone desert winds, flowing downwards from
Boot hill cemetery, in icy chilling breeze full of echoing voices,
From the past, begging for redemptions last chance of salvation.
Roll does the crimson tumbleweed, towards the ghost town known as
Tombstone, a monuments graveyard to the old west.
In this rock cactus garden of venomous vipers, did the righteous
Live, amongst the uncivilized lawless, in this wildness country,
Of the unbridled frontier.
Blinded by greed's lightning flash, for quick money and easy cash,
Did the earth expose evil's shining metal, silver, from deep within,
Accursed is this place, purgatory's hell on earth, its deadly soil marred
And sanctified in blood sacrifice.
Left to the scorpions and rattlesnakes, as the only living inhabitants,
Ramshackle buildings remain, abandonment’s delinquent tribute
To a once thriving community.
But after night fall, others come forth, crossing the threshold of the
Nether underworld, the gun slinger, the gambler, and ladies of
Reputation's ill repute, claim this desert real estate for their own
Dark amusement park, still whooping it up at the bird cage theatre,
Indulging themselves. In all manor of seductions insidious erotic acts
Of depravity.
The condemned soulless walk these dusty sandy streets of limbo,
Forever banished are these bastered son's of the gun. Or until the last
Shot is fired at the O.K. Corral, on high noon's final sunrise.
Satan is the lawful sheriff here, in this the territory of the forsaken,
And his loyal deputy the Grim Reaper controls the posses of the undead.
Riding against the redden moon, seeking any innocent soul trying
To escape from this desert prison.
You've drawn the dead man's hand my friend, if you find yourself lost here,
For the condemned show no mercy's reprieve to outsiders, the screaming
Souls shout from above, run lone cowboy run, and don't look back,
For the devils possess rides behind thee, and the dark lord,
Takes no prisoner's alive.
Whistle do the lone desert winds, flowing downwards from
Boot hill cemetery, in icy chilling breeze full of echoing voices,
From the past, begging for redemptions last chance of salvation.
But light concurs darkness, and death's icy grip fades at the 
First rays of sunrise, and all evil must return to their crypts
Beneath the earth, from the dust from when'est they came, 
Until the next moon's rising, then wide will the gates of hell,
Swing again, releasing the germinate residences of a city,
Named Tomb Stone.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse |

THE HANGING TREE

Dead men tell no tails, or so the winds of 
Destiny’s say.
On judgment hill from on high, 
Voices do echo downwards, as the 
Noose does sway, back and forth, on the
Hangman's tree.
These gallows, of oaken branches, act as tethers,
 Shackles, holding the forsaken, souls prisoner.
Ghost phantoms cling, to it's rotten limbs,
That break beneath times endless rampage.
Regrets fallen horsemen, of the old west, 
Stand guard, sentinels on horse back,
Wearing a tarnished tin star.
God's law keepers, are  branded, sworn,
By their honor, to protect even after death,
The gates of heaven, from this spawn of hell.
Beware evil desperadoes, no mercy will
This the lord's posses show unto you, 
For these riders bare a different mark.
A silver cross of justice, given by
The Almighty’s hand himself.
Say thy prayers, all lawless men,
For on this day, does the rope tighten,
Around your neck, there is no reprieve,
No salvation for evils deceit.
Hell bound are thou, the devils breed.
But beware, there is no escape,
From this grave site.
At dawns first light, as it spreads
 Across the western horizon.
Know that yee, are one of many spirits
Doomed, to be weaved within the
Tangled limbs, called the hang
Mans tree.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


 


 

 


 

 


 

 


 


Details | Free verse |

PORTRAIT OF A NIGHTMARE

In the boxed gilded frame exists the residue of
A painter’s vision, of his nightmare placed upon
Canvas.
Locked within the cells of four square,
Lies a view into the ethereal world beyond our 
Conscious mind.
A heckling demon does laugh, at she the white
Gowned maiden of innocence lies slain, as her bloods
Warmth slips silently away, and life's flash memory,
Closes around her for the last time.
Hear the thundering sounding. From the heavy laden hooves,
As hell's white steed, claims the vanquished heart of
The innocent, and riding unto the gates of black ebony,
He does so bare a rare prize, the soul of purist beauty.
Oh so do the angels cry in heaven, weeping in tandem's chorus.
For death's fallen will know the torments hidden in
The mighty halls of hell's keep, for dark has over come
The light, and at it's flickering the last hope of mankind,
Has become one of the a shunned.
Seductions father of evil, takes the white hands of
The maiden of innocence, for one last waltz, as life leaves
Her damaged shell, behind a phantom spirit of betrayal,
Is left at the threshold of the forgotten, and salvation's door
Slams shut unto her; she is suicide's victim of the broken
Hearted, never to know the taste of Eden, or to see the glory
Of Gods kingdom beyond.
Nipping beneath the ladies gown of white, the demon
Chastises her, belittling a life so sacrificed for what
He does so scold; it is a minor thing, this emotion called love.
Tears fall, be you so quite, demon, I've suffered enough, but he
Is the hells jackal, and is her greatest tormentor.
Awaken painter, she pleads from the ethereal realm,
In sweats uneasy slumber, but the artist shields his eyes to late,
And he has seen too much, for a mortal to so easily forget.
Upon the canvas is a dreams vision,
And trapped within, is she the soul of innocence,
Forever encased within this prison, a
Painter's revelation, called the portrait of a
Nightmare.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse |

AMONGST THE TREES

In the trees the voices whisper, the orbs dance in the swirling mists,
The ethereal winds brush against the living and the undead here cry in 
Valley of discontent.
Twisted are the branches, banging, slamming at the brickened walls,
As many hands smack at the glass within, a prison of spiritual essence,
Death is just another level of existence.
Within the Winchester house, many souls scream in the darkness,
Corporeal beings shift from light to dark, phantoms walk in these haunted
Halls, lightly stepping from earth to air.
From the blood of the fallen innocent do these bricks bleed, build from
Mankind’s greed has this foundation been so built, a cursed vision of 
A tortured old woman, seeking redemptions release from the invention
Of the powder and the gun.
In labyrinth’s maze shadows fade, as if melting ice though hard wooden
Floors and evaporating between solid beams, these victims of life shades,
Have come here to find a solitudes refuge.
At the stroking of mid-nights tolling hour, hear the ancient organ play,
As invisible finger tips strike at the ivory keys, doesn’t the candle stick light
Without combustions fuel, igniting the blue-green flame it flickers without the
Winds breathe.
Softly skeletal remains play, calling the forsaken unto this entrapment of hells
Divine cell of impurities unkempt, its stench lingering in the breeze oozing
Downwards through hallways, and corridors leading unto know where.
The grandfather clock chimes it’s twelfth’s bong, she so comes forward 
Dressed in blackened lace, a white faced vision of opulence elegance, the lady
Of this residence, trying to give thee a personal invite, turn away mortal flesh
If you believe that she is not real, keep strongly woven within thy faiths cocoon.
But on the back bone of reality, a disembodied hand touches your shoulder,
As a chilly rush accelerates your inner ward heart beat, shall you then be brave
Enough to turn around, or has your courage left you alone to face such evil.
But all here belong, and there is no escape, now you amongst the dead you’ve
Found the uneasy peace of the after life at last.
No white light magically enchantment can break the spell, for too many lost 
Souls are woven within this tapestry of darkness; she lives this widow maker,
A spider known as Mrs. Winchester.
In the trees the voices whisper, the orbs dance in the swirling mists, 
The ethereal winds brush against the living and here the undead cry
In the valley of discontent.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN



Details | Free verse |

QUEEN OF THE DAMMED

An ancient evil is given life once more,
The heaven's cry out in pains remorse.
Daughter of darkness, deceits angel of death,
Beware unto mankind for bloods lustful temptress,
Speaking with a snakes fork tongue,
Nay she is a blackened cobra, spreading its hood,
Ready to strike, at the unguarded throat of humanity.
Legacy's malice, and hatreds decadence, bred this
Monster most deadly.
Frozen in stone, a cold heart beats, underneath
Lies the beast, with the face of innocence grace.
Nay a spawned creature from hell itself,
Awoken by loves vamperic bite.
Forsaken is she, the queen of the dammed,
For man are nothing more than cattle,
Raw meat to feast upon.
She'll strike with an unrighteous sword,
Slicing the very ocean itself in half,
It does so bleed with a crimson red,
As waves of bodies float unto the shore.
This is my kingdom of the dead,
Behold a birthing of a new world order,
Carved from mortal flesh and bone.
It's dawn arriving, beneath the full moons
Illumination, shall the sun never rise,
Within thus my deadened realm.
Her ivory white throne, built of human marrow
Drips with fresh redden over flow,
As she smiles with fiendish delight.
At twilight’s darkened hour, she'll dance upon
The graves of her ancestors,
For the Queen of the dammed has arisen.
Bow thee, and kiss her golden saddled feet,
She takes no prisoners, live and survive
At the goddesses leisure.
If you wish to stay, and see the
Final light of your kind to be extingusished,.
Say the Lord’s Prayer before
You go to sleep, this night my friend,
For tomorrows sunrise, may never
Light again against the distant horizon.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse |

Time Out

Make no haste,
your work is restless.

Aeon give me pause--
no more ticking
gears grinding
ever towards the
lonely end.

Live the now.
Even Death took
a holiday,
veering briefly from an
eternity of reaping
solitude.

Take your time
on earth and
mingle--
overindulge in
reverie.
Rest assured,
oblivion can
wait.


Details | Free verse |

Through Telescope Eyes...Valentine....

My desire is not for chocolates…
                       just for the taste of you
          so sweet on my tongue
(it lingers there as Ghirardelli does)

Do not give me pink stuffed bears 
if your arms will hold me 
                         on these tossed sheets
(embrace me tight and bridge this space)
                  I send (eyes open) 
crimson shed wishes
                       on passion tossed seas
and warm tender kisses
                                 I plead on my knees

Blood red hearts ooze on this page
 Every beat…(feel its rage)
           My heart emits
desperate calls….
                    a whisper on your wind
           (catch it please)

Unearthed flowers are useless…
they wither away
                       into the dust….
(though, calla lilies...if you must)

But you…
                 you are eternal…..

I want no message 
                      bought from hallmark
           (much too sterile)

Spill on pages words from you
            that breathe 
    the breath of life to me

Your heart….it is my reason....

Your soul…
It reflects a sliver satin shatter
                   dusting in my own 
A voice…it seems…
                    I have always known

Reminisce this…
Giggles on the pillow
Hushed morning voices
Precious tender moments
lost inside your eyes

Kiss me awake
                      with all your hunger
           (lips of desire)
           Catch this fire!
Tempt me hotly
                      with your touch
I’m still afraid
                when I feel this much
Make me mindless
               for suspended moments
Scattered within 
                   your dazzling brilliance
Flames of burning
                    tangerine
                             and rich ruby red
(much like the sunset sky)

“Good morning….my valentine…
         and good night…too”
        I will drink red wine
          and dream of you…

In sweet rainbows colors 
if your were mine....

Through telescope eyes...
My Valentine....


Details | Free verse |

THE SKELETON KEY

Wrought liquid metal, hued in the fire's of hell,
Pored into a castings shell, then hammered well,
By the angry fists of Satan himself, behold the skeleton key.
Accursed by evil's malevolent spell, one size fits all,
No locked doors can resist against its turnings twist,
Opening unto the supernatural's mystical power, and unlocking
Humanity's hidden passages and darkest corridors,
Leaving no secrets left unspoken or in silence.
Crimson blood spewing forth from corrupted key holes, oozing
Downwards unto the floor below, staining ancient
Tapestries of the royal gentries, and the upper classes refined.
Skull to the cross bones, it possesses a will of its own, 
A vile living entity, with its own consciousness.
Molding, reshaping itself at pleasures dark whim, 
Feasting on hatred's malice, then releasing it unto the world
Of men.
A twisted wanton thing, laughing with intentions cruelties,
And relishing in our agonies pain.
But Homo sapiens are a curious species, never realizing when to
Leave things well enough a lone.
We must know what lies beyond that forbidden
Door, where mankind is not allowed to trespass.
In these dark places of shadows ethereal, it rocks in a fetal 
Ball, a creature, waiting to be disturbed, go then seek what lurks therein,
If you dare, only the key knows what it really is, and it laughs,
At our ignorance, mocking us in the darkness.
Four it is the beast, chained and shackled within our worst
Nightmares, a fierce devilish demon, that pierces through the
Darkest of night, to hunt the innocent souls of wayward men.
You've have ventured to far, beyond thy safety zone of no return.
Four death lies in those reddened eyes that watch you within 
The darkness.
If you move it will attack, motions movements attracts
Attentions reactions, so remain frozen there is no safety's retreat
Thou'art trapped, again the key so laughs in the abyss,
Mocking at humanity's ignorance.
Shaking with anticipations glee, it begs the next
User to place it into the key hole, of the unknown, come along 
Now what can it hurt, just one little peek, let’s look beyond the crimson
Door, as the skeleton key heckles with unbridled happiness.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse |

THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON

In the cradled of life's dark garden,
It dwells amongst the murky waters
Primeval,
Behold the creature from the black lagoon.
Nay what is this creation, neither fish or 
Reptile.
Yet a blending of both, a high bread's mixture,
Intelligent, and cunning, the last of his species,
To survive.
Brought unwisely did men, bring beauties
Forbidden fruit, unto this lost oasis of Eden.
For alone sentinel awaits to partake in such
A luscious morsel.
So does it not say in biblical text, go forth
And multiply, by a driven basic instinct he
Cautiously watches from the thicket brush.
What a graceful motion moves within the
Jungles domain, 
She swims idle caught unaware, the bride
To be herself, charms him with every stroke
Across this lake placid.
With Chameleon like stealth, the groom appears,
Taking his prize to their cavey honeymoon retreat.
So tenderly he greets his mate, from shocks
Dreamy like state she awakes, and recoils in repulsion.
No love's scorn, and tragedies broken heart,
Can do more damage than rejections expulsion.
Bullets may have cut the flesh to the bone,
But was it not beauty, which killed the beast,
And the last sight he saw, was his love in
Another's arms.
So ends natures final verse in this evolutionary
Experiment,
The creature from the black lagoon now lies
Dead, upon this tragic stage of life.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse |

THE MUSIC BOX

Is it simply just a wooden music box?
Charming the human soul, with its melodic undertone,
What a hypnotic melody it so plays, enticing the listener
With its delicate waltz' sweetly strumming, exposing it's
Mystical quality of the supernatural
By its spiritual essence attractant, I'm thus so memorized,
A ballerina dancing in step, with the spell cast upon me,
Thus do so I spin, on this stationary pedestal, unable to move
On my own volitional power of chose and free will, 
I've be consumed utterly,
By the haunting tune, compelling me do its evil bidding.
The notes grow slower, unwinding until perfectly still,
But I'm not in a daydreams nightmare, I suddenly realize 
This absurdity is reality, has become real.
I'm that tiny figure within a child's musical box,
Frozen in stances freeze, unable to cry
Out for help, for made of wax am I now.
Then the lid is gently shut upon me, and in the
Darkness a sadistic voice, heckles and mocks
Me, speaking in musical notes it sings a deadly
Lullaby, rest eternal my beauty for you belong
To me now.
I've become a play thing to be tormented,
Languishing within this jewelry box.
Caught in this land of giants, whom wind
These musical chimes, to join me as a 
Prisoner's collection, of a thief called music.
Whom orchestrates this symphony of the demonic?
I dare not ask, for the voices anger would
Ravish what little is left of my humanity,
So I smile, and I dance at its pleasures
Whim, but within my soul a flickering
Ray does burn still, and it is called hope.
The music screams in terror's disbelief,
For the giants house has caught in flames,
And now he is the prisoner captured
Within a wooden tinder box.
I do so smile as I myself melt away,
Listening to the voice begging for help,
But no one comes to aid such evil as he.
But I am free at last, and except death
As a comforting friend's reprieve,
From the beast, is it just a simple?
Wooden music box.
 
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

 
 
 


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