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Free Verse Memory Poems | Free Verse Poems About Memory

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

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Details | Free verse | |

A Night At The Desolate Harbor

The ship in the habor on silvery seas Lay vacant outspread 'neath the glassy moon Drifting in cold whispers of the night Like a drunk man shriveled on clasping knees In the loud echoes of the crawling winds The brave ship nods its old head Restless on the empty stage of the bay When lonely stars bleed their light On what was once earthly sublimity Now silence and haunt lingers there A graveyard of bones and sadness Beside the desolate harbor Rustling in the cold distance Laboring with a haunting melody That invades me in shivers of night. Sadness defeats The happy spaces of my mind Then your sweet kiss would descend Oh... your sweet kiss would descend As a fragrant memory Thawing the pain In the frost of my heart. My soul beckons your presence But silence became my loyal friend And Emptiness - The sorrowing of my hours That slithers through the night As the brave ship nods its old head Crackling and desolate In silvered breaking waters 'Neath moon's limpid eyes My hands descend With crimson buds of April's flowers To rest upon your tomb Of eternal silence.
''Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.''


Details | Free verse | |

Remember

Remember that time Oh that smile that beautiful smile that little playful smirk tugging at my shirt waiting for me to ask you to dance That little blue skirt Cashmere sweater Your cheeks, bright red rouge batting your long silk eyelashes at me You were a flirt Remember that time My hands so clammy My heart a flutter Finally asking you to dance You took my hand Squeezing so tight Oh you were the perfect sight How can I not remember or can I ever forget that midnight blue polo shirt and that baseball hat It seems not long ago I wore flowers in my hair Ahh, that lavender breeze Close by, a carousel You raised your brow many a time I swear I caught you stare It seems not long ago but it's been thirty years or so when your steady hand got hold of my own And i never let it go I can still recall that winsome grin and butterflies churning within You asked me if I wanted to dance Stole my heart away and put me in a trance It seems not long ago but its been thirty years or so Your tremerous hand got hold of my own and I never let it go, no i never let it go


Details | Free verse | |

Soul mates solace

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
recollecting memories 
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
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece


Details | Free verse | |

Doorways to Yesterday

The house slumps against overgrown yards
Where gardens wilt against the ground,
Begging for sleep beneath gray skies.
Vines move through weeds 
Like brittle fingers,
Reaching toward a sagging door 
Where paint peels like weathered skin, 
Curling in agony against the grain.
Once vibrant, now fading
Like all doorways to yesterday.

This is where memories flee,
Lying in wait like dormant ghosts 
That walk through the walls of my mind
As I walk through the door.

The hinges creak in protest,
Rusted by the rain of forgotten days.
The floors squeak in upset,
Unaccustomed to my timid feet.
The dust is stirred, the silence snaps
Like twigs used for kindling
To spark my tepid heart.
A decade becomes a moment.
A moment becomes a lifetime.

This is where memories live,
Trapped in time like restless ghosts 
That walk through walls and haunt the halls 
Of doorways to yesterday.

Though broken, they open
To swallow me whole.


Details | Free verse | |

Recalling Her

It is thirty six years ago, and I am with her in the garden,
where July is a picnic of egg sandwiches, cress-stippled,
the fuzzy down of peaches, acid-yellow tang of lemonade.
Her fingers have the delicacy of dancers
as she deftly mixes paint on a palette blue as the sky -
blobs of acrylics bright as sweet shop candy.

Summer is a sizzling colour wheel, spinning in its heat hues -
cadmium orange, pyrrole red, gold ochre -
those fever flames that blaze across her page.

My small world is warmed by the sun in her smile.

Russian vine stitches a delicate doily over the shed roof.
The heat-glazed garden shimmers and buzzes.
There is a twilight world under sweet clusterings of lilacs:
a cool shock of shade, pendulous-legged black flies
hovering in the murky mauve.
China white stars of jasmine light my way.
Please keep me close. Let me stay.

*

It is twenty six years ago, a morning of mourning,
and the notes of the dead bells toll
as, mist-muffled, they roll
through November's sleet streets.

I close my eyes and the sun in her smile parts the clouds.

Sober-suited people crush and cluster in pews;
row upon row of perylene black, winter-pale faces titanium white.
Stained glass windows filter and warm the ash-grey light
until her coffin is a vibrant palette of rainbows.

There are stories - lots of stories - anecdotes,
a crimson-backed journal she wrote,
a painting she painted, coffin-propped,
a poetry reading - one of her own -
Tapestry is a wondrous thing, in it the lovely colours sing. . .

Creamed rice-colour roses heap sweet
on her stone - a slate plate serving up a dead name -
and carnations splash cadmium scarlet
like blood throbbing from the gash of grief's raw wound.

*

It is now, and I am alone, taking a short cut home
through evening's rich palette.
Elegiac elms shed viridian tears,
and the sky is a burnt sienna explosion.
October's umber seeps into November's sepia tones.

My mind is coloured with her and then.
I hold a small cameo box that held
the colourful spill of her pills: kaleidoscope planets
orbiting my loneliness, spinning off into nothingness. . .

Dark figures fill the park: silhouettes, shadows
following me home; spirits stepped from her portraits,
faces pushed down into coat collars, crinkled with frowns.

Paint-pinned people in their primaries and pastels,
on canvas, under glass; stopped heartbeats of the past.
Trapped moments on paper and boards.

I close my eyes and see the sun in her smile,
recall how, since her passing, life has become a free fall,
a parapet leap without parachute.

And the smudged charcoal lines of memory
are beginning to blur, fading like her watercolours. . .





in memory of my grandmother


Details | Free verse | |

Up To You

Feelings of euphoria, if even for just a day feuilleton or stichomythia, words I can't even say scoring the winning goal in the championship game raising you up over their shoulders basking in your thirty seconds of fame Tomorrow will they remember your name? That sunny summer afternoon by the lake skipping stones watching the ripples float away seeing her beautiful reflection bobbing in the waves taking her hand as she took your breath away how that seemed like just yesterday Would she even remember your name? The harvest moon shining brightly through the window you squeezing my hand so very tight the nurse wiping your brow pain in your voice but a smile on your face when the doctor handed you that little girl How we decided on that perfect name. Memories come and memories go but how you will be remembered is up to you


Details | Free verse | |

Sometimes I forget his name

Sometimes
I forget his name
there are cavities 
in love too

dark gaps 
in the cracking heart
where aching
doubt and memories 
pulsate.


© Gry W Christensen


Details | Free verse | |

The Letter

"Dear Time"
Thank you for being patient, 
Thank you for understanding I'm human, after all.
Forgive me for all the mischievous prank calls. 
Much of what I said and done, was out of fun.
Now, I sit on this rocking chair getting old.
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor it has been 
   Passing this land we call "EARTH."
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor, yes-------------- REMINISCING!
Sorry if I repeat the same beat a thousand times....
You see, I sit here every day thinking this world is mine....
Trying not to forget, who I truly AM.
Every moment there has ever been or ever will be, 
Finally is taking a toll on every single feeling and memory.
Time, Yes------------------ TIME!
The wrinkles on my face will never describe how many birthdays I celebrate.
The wrinkles on my face are stories reminding my readers,
 Where I've been and come from.
How consistent, and fortunate I've been, 
Babbling about my past, present, and future; 
The only advantage of the word "TIME."
-- It helps fade hurting moments away--
You see, time is the essence of memories.
 
Dear Time,
"Growing from young into old, was not as easy as it sounds."
Please be patient with, Wait! I said that already....
Thank you for understanding what I’m going through.
Please just listen, please, be patient with what's burning deep down inside.
It's almost dinner time --once again, I mention the word "TIME!"
I'm not hungry right now, the food just isn't the same when fed through a straw.
Besides, have you seen the garments ''they'' have me wearing.
Never thought I'd live to see myself in old-fashioned nightgowns.
Time keeps adding silver to what used to be pretty reddish brown hair.
Time what have you done to me?
Please excuse if I can't work a remote or function the TV properly.
What has happened to simple technology, 
   When everything came with only "ON and OFF" buttons.
Try to understand what I’m going through, my legs never felt this tired before.
I can't seem to keep myself on the same path, 
I lose track of time when navigation issues on my own.

Dear Time, 
Take my hand, lead the way and understand I can't see as before.
Time, please allow the joy to take its time when my end is near.
Thank you, Time, for all the loving moments we shared
Thank you, Time and please be kind and end my life with love.
End my life with love-----
End my life with love-----
Wait..... I said that already....

Dear Time, 
Thanks for having patience.

Sincerely Yours 
The Little Old Lady Across the Street

by;PD


Details | Free verse | |

Sunlight

Sometimes I believe you
to be a vision, fading,
only a reflection of the
warmth I used to feel.
Today my memory of you
locked away within a
clenched mind, like grains
of sand perpetually
slipping through the cleft
of time. A memory scattered
along the highway of
despondent souls, soon
to be washed away by
the rising tide of oblivion!

Copyright Harry J Horsman 2010


Details | Free verse | |

For Suzanne, Green and Golden

“The October night comes down; returning as before
Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and knees.”
----- “Portrait of a Lady;” T. S. Eliot

A golden afternoon,
Late October, and my thoughts
Are all of you, Suzanne…
Vestiges of your being
Appear on visages of 
A hundred different people;
But none are you, not one 
As green,  as golden.

Hard it is to know no miracle
Will mend, no giddy hope assuage,
The scourge that slowly puts an end
To our valiant green and golden girl.
Memory takes us to days of indolence,
Of innocence, of children lying on a levee,
Deep in lush, green, summer clover --
In sunlight almost as golden
As your hair -- beside a flowing river
Bearing away our golden hours
And the painless green  of youth.
 
Now, in your green room, reclined
In shadow, our golden girl reposes.
Your courage lights the coming night
That does not dim the gold and green
You always shared, and still you share.



Details | Free verse | |

A Little House of Memories

It was a lovely little house.

Built of white painted timber,

with a gabled roof clad in green tin,

it had never been a rich person's house.

It was her house. 

And driving up to park outside it,

each time I went there, 

was like the beginning of a new adventure.

I would always enter by the rickety side gate

and walk through that small garden she tended to on weekends, 

in the hope that one day it might become beautiful.

The back door gave entry to her tiny kitchen where,

sometimes she would be,

baking scones or some other treat for her and me

to have later with some coffee or cheap red wine.

It wasn't a well designed house.

The bathroom and lavatory and laundry

weren't where you might expect.

And most rooms were very small. 

But for the living cum dining room.

And her bedroom. 

I never counted all the rooms in that house.

I'm not certain I even saw all of them.

But all of those I did see 

were furnished and decorated with pieces that she

had shopped for at garage sales

and in second hand shops.

Except for those things she'd made herself.

There were pictures she had painted,

and other hand crafted knick-knacks.

And some bottles filled 

with interesting vegetable matter

embalmed in colourful oils and such.

It was a small house and a little quaint.

But beautiful.

And warm. 

Her bedroom was of a good size 

and her bed was large and sumptuous,

with a profusion of richly coloured cushions and pillows.

We'd discovered one another in that large bed,

in that good sized bedroom,

in that warm little house,

that still warms me with it's memories. 

For there was nothing inside that house

that she had not chosen.


Details | Free verse | |

Letter to an Old Friend

Dear S.,

I was in the market yesterday
digging through a tray of grapes
trying to find the freshest bag,
but most seemed half-decayed.
I was just about to leave
(feeling mighty peeved),
but then - you won't believe!
Carole King came on the radio
and the world began to move real slow.
Even the fruit held its breath
(half-rotten and close to death).
She sang about the earth moving
and the sky tumbling,
and it made me think of you.
I thought of that summer -
the one before our senior year
when your dad taught us how to drive
(and got annoyed and made me cry).
Remember that?
We washed his car with soap and tears,
sipping on bottles of cold root beer.
Out of tune, we'd dance and sing
along to songs by Carole King.
Well, I want you to know - 
You made my day,
even though you're far away.  
And, you know, Carole said it best:
I feel my heart start to trembling
whenever you're around.
I miss that. 
And I miss you.

Love,
Me


Details | Free verse | |

One Autumn Day

One Autumn Day
One cloudless, bright color-splashed Autumn day, as a sunny sky frivolously frolicked with butterflies of iridescent blue, and trees exploded with flaming colors of burnt orange, red, and yellow, she rested on a soft bed of freshly-fallen leaves near a golden pond. In her reflection, she saw the spirited girl she once was, the brash nymph who uninhibitedly loved the sun god, amorous Helios, with glorious memories of one Autumn day forever engraved in her heart.
9-11-2014


Details | Free verse | |

SO WARM YET FAR AWAY



When night’s candles wax in the breeze, A glow draws near while dear ones are far I would scan places some miles away For in reveries they bask among the skies. So warm with wonder, bright with charm Could I but fix them beneath moon’s hues, Who do not let affections stray through time. Oh how sublime flickers of light seem to trace This ardor lingering in whirls of smoke, Where flames of dream become a heart’s desire To wander as tapers drip of fragrant songs And cuddle journeys in hours’ waning notes. In my life they always climb inside deep breaths All cherished in ticks of rain, yet I memorize Their hands well, knowing we do care through sun, Long miles, and stars’ resplendent display… What wickers of years forget; love remembers. Many Miles Away Contest.. Roger Horsch by nette onclaud


Details | Free verse | |

The Heart Of The Edifice

                                           The Heart Of The Edifice   

                                           In the midst of the forest 
              Of skeletal trees, green cedar, pine, and brush is the thickest
                                        Standing so tall and  blissful 
                    Enduring weathering and erosion that slowly chisels,
                            Earth's rock into ever evolving work of art
                              A rock structure that use to be the heart 
                             Of the edifice where long time recurrence
                                    Of lives that lived with endurance 
                                    The, hiss, crackling fire persuades 
                                                    Warm comfort 
                                        From a chilly cold winter day, 
                                Or soaked from the hard pounding rain
                                             That chills to the bone
                            The scents of smoke, mixed with spice food,
                       Coffee, and bread cooking in a cast iron Dutch oven

                               Now habitat of natures small creatures 
                     A rock structure that use to be the heart of the edifice
                                       Standing so tall and  blissful 
                                          In the midst of the forest 
               Of skeletal trees, green cedar, pine, and brush is the thickest
                      Enduring weathering and erosion that slowly chisels,
                               Earth's rock into ever evolving work of art

                                                  By: Eve Roper
                                                        1/2/2014

 


Details | Free verse | |

Trick or Treat

The rubber soles of my sneakers scrape along the sidewalk
as I go down the streets of my small hometown
with only a flashlight and the dim streetlights to illuminate the darkness
I walk my way through piles of scattered dead leaves
jack o' lanterns smile brightly as they sit in window sills
hanging in trees, white sheeted ghosts are stirred by the chilly night wind
paper cut-outs of black cats, witches, and jointed skeletons decorate doors
my vision is distorted by the eye holes of my mask
I can see just enough to find my way to a house
my sneakers thump up the wooden porch steps
with a cold hand I reach out to knock or ring the door bell
I say those three words which earns me my first treat of the evening
no harm done, you will get no tricks or mischief from me
then it is on to the next house and the next welcoming porch light
as Halloween night nears it's end, my bag of treats starts to feel heavy
my feet are tired and sore, yet there are still a few more houses to go....


I hope I can relive these sweet memories someday, with my own children.



Details | Free verse | |

the break of day

daybreak grounds me
the horizon blushes
an end to night's passion
as the dawn unfolds my dreams

it seems
you own my mind
all my thoughts tumble
like autumn leaves
in winded breaths
whispered through darkness

i dance gracefully 
in memories of you
blushed with a desire
i cannot explain
and linger
in the afterthoughts
as day breaks


Details | Free verse | |

Alzheimer's

In the morning, I gather my thoughts of yesterday
Like the foraging chipmunk, collecting acorns 
And stuffing them miserly in my jowls
The past is sustenance for a somnolent soul 

As age condemns my faculties
I pull, from my once copious jowl
A jewel of sorts
A garnet set in fool’s gold

My memory is manufactured 
Assembled and disassembled
No longer what was or is or will be
But was and is and never has been

Confine my thoughts to winter
Where barren fields and sterile trees
Offer less to recollect 
Empty my jaws of these useless reminiscences


Details | Free verse | |

Around the corner

The café sleeps in a cinnamon haze, Alone at a table, I sip the bitter chocolate of memories. Regrets dance in my heart, Just as the scarlet leaves upon the pavement. My melancholy gaze wanders to the corner. A lonely man emerges, His icy hands clutching the fabric in his pockets. Upon seeing him I know, Brown eyes and all the rest, Carried me into the vicious illusion. I bite my cranberry lip in despair, For he is back, even though he never left my weary heart. Turn the corner yet again, And please liberate me from this gnawing nightmare. Remain behind the sharp edge of a wall, With the rest of my corrosive memories. 11/10/2014


Details | Free verse | |

Requiem

Call me not a child,
Treat me with adult words,
Eyes that scan the essence,
And see the centuries I have lived.
Ancient soul though young flesh, 
Half my heart remains in an older existence. 

I wish to feel the gentle,
The tenderness that comes with love,
Finger tips soft and feather like.
I yearn to feel the rough,
The firm grip of a lover,
Hands grasping hips in a fury of need.
Lips rubbing together in absence of a kiss. 

I need to speak of higher things,
realms that others fear to not believe,
And visions that we both have seen. 
Lie with me in clover beds,
Stars sparkling bright above our heads,
Birds swooping to deliver prey to young,
Eyes filled with awe at the world's cruel beauty. 

Lie with me in open thought,
Minds roaming over hills and sea,
Connecting to the world.
Releasing raw unadulterated energy,
Through just a simple touch,
Conscious spreading to the sky,
To flit like hummingbirds.

Call me not a child, 
For the things I have seen,
The memories I hold within,
Through one life to the next.
Falling, falling, down to the sea,
Bright sky, rolling green, 
sharp waves black, crash against the rocks,
Awaiting our meeting of fatality. 

Flowers high in weeds,
Grow up to itchy gowns,
And crunch beneath slipper-ed feet.
Corsets pulled tight,
Tight enough that I forget to breathe,
When in the presence of a man.
Blame the corset for my lack of breathe,
Though he steal it from my honeyed lips,
With not even a brushing kiss.
And a wedding band surprised,
Beneath a weeping willow,
With barely family enough to witness the event.

Four wheeled Slow rolling machine,
In comparison to today's technologies,
To ride a get away in sun lit heat. 
Black with shinning seats and room for four,
Or even five if they would squeeze. 
Two women, a daughter and a son, 
A life of running, identity hidden, 
Bolstered weapons for protection,
And an unending flow of cash.
Life seemed easy - at least when not being shot at.  

So call me not a child, 
For I have seen many years,
Felt the touch of lovers hands,
The cool of friends tears,
Felt the crashing waves,
As another life came to an end,
Spoke of many things,
And made otherworldly friends. 
Kiss my lips with fierceness, 
When I have yet again died,
I fear not the otherworldly,
So tell them not to cry.


Details | Free verse | |

Grey Ghosts

I tiptoe through empty rooms, 
lest my footsteps evoke his presence.

I gaze at cracked linoleum,
still bearing marks 
worn into it by the old table legs.

Mother's face floats through
the smoky windowpane,
her sorrowful eyes pleading.

Neil stares downward 
at the uneaten food 
congealed on his plate.

Sarah's face is buried
in a limp rag doll,
clutched to her breast.

I glance down the hall, 
past the bedroom.
I will not go in there.

No need to visit old pain.
I turn my back
to the silent, cold house
and walk away from my past.


Details | Free verse | |

Mosaic Memory

Frightend children under the baobab
Of elders discourse playing
At the deep edge of rites
Of passages
With no Atlantic dream.

There is a beauty here
Before the other world began
Forgetting its origin
And taste
Of white milk in black breast
Beautifully caressing
The tongue
Outside the jaws of greed.

The time of pyramids
Lolling 
On the golden sands
Full with the jewels of history
Civilizations gone
And dead sphinx to come
To Alexandria dreaming
Far from the distant 
Wonders of Timbuctu.

And after all that gain
Suddenly a flood
Of nothingness
Carrying totems
Of laughed animism
On children's head 
Like weed.

Stale rum sizzling
In the heat
Of deception
Crackle lies
The missionary and prelates of doom
Smile when the boom
Behind us burst
Crankling chains
Move to the shackle of the feet
The heart coffled
To the suddeness of defeat
Stared at the deception
That could not win
Without the foul
Practices bred in smoke filled bars
Of cold desolate 
places making a wave.

We come
From banks of river
Surety to insurance companies
For new ships
That carry us promisary notes 
Of golds to cotton and cane 
Replacing the earth hidden
Treasures
In a mother's bowels
We come 
Dying 
To change the mosaic to come
Into a place
Where you know may know
I am
The father of the race.


Details | Free verse | |

Who I Was

and I remember the pilled-doctor 
rolling by, rolling by, and the beery
priest, in the sky, in the sky

and the woman in the taxi, oh my,
oh my, and her husband the pugilist,
big guy, big guy

and the lamp-posted street and the
beery priest and his altared feet,
all rolling by, rolling by

and the maggots in the trash can
meal long gone, meal long gone

and the yellow kitchen dish
squissh, squish,squish buttered 
frying fish,buttered frying fish

and the black, smiling police woman,
come to bed, come to bed;
and the little bouncing snappy dog, bounce
the ball, bounce the ball

then the man in robes from Pakistan, 
Pakistan, all the sights, if you can,
if you can;

and now I'm old, now I'm old,
with silver hair and linen shirts
and children three in pants and 
skirts.

and if at night I stop and stare,
stop and stare;

I see who I was;
living there.






Details | Free verse | |

Captured

I remember that night as if it were yesterday,
sitting and watching your chest moving rhythmically 
up and down as you took each breath.
Your face was that of tranquillity.
Your cheeks were scarlet from spending hours 
on the beach in the November wind. 
As your little eyelids began dancing in the moon lit room,
I couldn’t help but wish I was there in your dream.
The skylight allowed the moonbeams to shine down on you
and you were that night; my star.
I rushed to get my video camera to capture this rare moment.
Then sat there filming you, not wanting this serene moment to end.
Soon my son, you shall graduate from university.
So much has been lost since then, and the video?
Yet still when I close my eyes, I can see you there,
that warm feeling wells up once again in my breast, 
and that night has become one of the most 
treasured moments of my life.
It has been branded in my heart and soul forever.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
01.2013
Contest: A poem you have not entered in a contest #12
Poet Destroyer A
3rd


Details | Free verse | |

remembrance

i do not have the power to control what haunts beneath night's sheets nor the courage to send them packing from the depths of my mind nor the words to bid them farewell nor the freedom to learn how i am trapped my mind cries remembrance, the apple of your eye hides within a bushel of pain as a worm crawls circles around my life i long for a peck from warm lips not cold, stiffed imperfect ones like death's my lips peel beneath the folds of rare smiles and whispers of words from seeded pain my soul cries out in silence beneath the folds of life its bitter bite and darkness uncontrolled


Details | Free verse | |

Footprints

Mist rises off the clear cobalt sea as the heat of the morning sun brings thoughts of your passion the wet blanched sand seeps deep between my bare sundrenched toes trudgingly I walk along the shore head focused down following footprints footprints of days long gone how hand in hand we walked this very beach we had our dreams we had our future hanging before us, all within reach sea birds circle round searching for their morning meal singing a beautiful tune bringing back memories of how my heart would dance how it would beat, a different beat as your soul would sing to me a soft solemn promise Oh how do I love you so as the tide rushes in and the water blankets my feet like you would blanket my fears I think of how you would hold me close kiss me gently run your fingers through my hair make my fear disappear soothe my heart and mind let me see when I was blind As the sun begins to climb I think, I can't help but think I wonder, I can't help but wonder Why can't I stop loving of you?


Details | Free verse | |

memory

My first memory was of you,
Your arms around around me,
I could not see your face,
Or feel your breath close to me,
But I saw your arms wrapped around my waist,
As if, the thought of me falling made you scared.
And that was it - but I felt love.
And then my memory started moving,
Not just in one way but in two.
And I felt your breath and heard your voice,
And watched us dance around the room.
I saw the way your eyes,
Cold as steel, blue as the light on ice,
Changed and slowly let down their walls.
I watched your lips move,
I felt the tenseness leave your body as you relaxed 
You laid in my arms, I brushed your hair with my fingertips


Details | Free verse | |

Photograph

A piece of the past
A moment frozen in time
Another blessing has perished
Another mountain to climb

How lucky are we
We can touch with our skin
A love that is lost
That has come to an end

A ticket to our former selves
A free tour through history
Answer to our question
A vision for our ministry 

Nothing more superior
Not a jewel that could surpass
Proof of times gone by
Another moment couldn't last


Details | Free verse | |

Scattering Memories

Translucent thoughts
linger on the breeze.
A sigh’s echo, counted,
trailing beneath the trees.

Images in fluctuation
reliving days gone by.
If only in the memory…
when it’s not feeling shy.

Leaves of change engulfing
the seasons that are spent
Now scattering what is now
and all that was 
the day it went…

© Debra Squyres  
3/17/15


Details | Free verse | |

A Poem for the Fallen 44: A Tribute

Heroes of my age in their morning mourn,
Filled with teardrops of pain and sorrow, 
They'll be now part of the epic history, 
But the cloudiness of who ones's fault still remains a doubt for justice,
When all lies in secrecy,
Can we blame peace and harmony? 
Where we are all thirsty. 

The masters of war behind the walls,
Safe and sound from the bullets of death, 
The heroes in order and duty,
When guns can't do anything for victory, 
When bullets can't do anything for survival, 
They hide behind the seeds, behind the prayers
Behind the first fallen hero.

They, who are grabby for one's life, for one's blood, 
Thirsty for distraction of one's covenant, 
They, who pulled the trigger, who ought killing is a game, 
Shooting one's body as if a little toy, 
Like the Trojan war of old, was trapped and deceived.
Will their consciences arrest them?
Will forgiveness forgives them? 
When they will die?

In service, for security the heroes died, 
To sacrifice one's life in the name of duty, 
A peace we wish is a peace they're yearning?
Or an inside job for another piece of power?
Who knows, we only care
But the Man can see them behind their masks, 
Through their eyes, inside their brains.

The agony and heartaches they leave behind, 
The scars that'll bleed for justice and life, 
For the woman of love, alone in coldest times, 
Somehow tears may dry by the aging of time.
For the cries of baby longing for daddy, 
Searching for brawny arms that will lift them, 
The baritone voice that will laugh with them.
Now change of path, life will never be the same, 
The light will also be now the wall.

All will pass, all will calm like an ocean after the storm,
But justice still pursuits justice, must not hide from another demise, 
Will give them the truth? Will the lives be not wasted?
Afraid for this will be one of the unresolved cases, 
Repeats the failure of my Country, 
Their coffins, their graveyards, in memoirs for the heroes 
Once the stewards of us, once the fathers of Country
Worthy of prayers -for them, for families and for justice.
We salute the Fallen!