These Freedom Spring poems are examples of Spring poems about Freedom. These are the best examples of Freedom Spring poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth
I stand among the reeds in the basin
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home
The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face
So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go
Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh
Unknown to those with no curiosity
Buds, that dream of one day blooming
Being, more than they are
Touched by those who love
Protected by those who wish to love
Wishing to be more than they are
Buds, not truly knowing if they are ready for the world
Hoping they are strong enough
Wishing to be the best
You, Me, Us, Everyone
She slips from the sleeping ice.
Green, fresh, free to flow
through the great fjord.
Past the blue mountains.
She glides smoothly
over the rocks with glee,
covering them with her cool touch.
Tall evergreens cheer her on.
Waving as she courses down her chosen path,
All the while never tiring!
Surging forward to join the others like her.
This vast journey ,
will not end till she reaches
The Great Shores.
Her journey is joyful.
Touching all on her banks,
leaving the gift of life in her wake.
Written July 29, 2013
The wind blows the rainbows down
Turns your frown upside down
Then spins it back around
The sun hides the moon
Underneath its coat in bloom
The flowers came late this June
The rain in a teardrop
Falls like dew from a leaf
When she looks at me
See that look upon her face
Used to take her to the stars
Now she's headed back from Mars
Now that Venus loves her more
Wouldn't throw her to the floor
Effulgent sun proffers love
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds
The moon unravels wonders
I spy, a feather beauty bright
With speckled blush on breast
Basking within the thicket light
Dancing round about her tiny branch
Your fluttering sight beholding
Within the snowy briar
Bathing among the warmth
Of the morning's golden glory
Its brilliance your own crown of halo
Like a sunburst that swallows
Up the end of February's sigh
As other feathers flusters zoom right by
The ginger little fellows all dappled, scramble
A merry-go-round within a flight
Threading joyous song throughout your bramble
As further flocks of scurry, hurry fly
On parade teasing wings of faerie sprites
A musical path of crisscross kites
But, you little one are the daring, bursting forth
With higher operatic songs, to startle and scold those spry
Feather beauty bravely
Upon your perch chest thrust out boldly
Nonsense rhymes and a new found might
Chase away the imps of finch and thrush
And keep yourself the sunbeams for its light
And bask yourself once more this time
Among the drops of melting dripping snow
And gather up all tis full
Feasting here, where the wild wild berries grow
But, in the end you are their kin
And soon, my fairy feathered friend you too must go
Out, onto twittering leafy stemmy stem and off...
Into the yonder of the coming spring to rove
A life of beauty and happiness denied, of innocence
smothered like a flame, I have always lived; but when
I hear your lovely voice, my Lisa--
now I am free.
I was dead before I even entered into this world, a
place cruel and without feeling, cruel and without
the love and understanding I finally know in the rich
harmonies of your voice, my Lisa--
which sets me free.
Before I could even hope to bloom like a sensual
flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy
sunbeams of spring a great evil--the threatening,
inner hostility of a dark figure overflowing with
bigotry--transformed me into a joyless
waste of ashes.
From that terrible moment on I fought all the ugly
and horrible assaults as his unwilling possession, a
gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and
myriad threats, subject to his occasional hostile
across the dinner table.
But when I hear your voice and imagine its tender-
ness and compassion as an unearned gift meant for
me despite him and my child-like self-loathing:
I feel the love and self-worth denied me, taken from
me simply because it was too easy to not rape from
a child whose only fault was that he was born
O Lisa! Because of the music of your lovely voice--
now I am free! Free from my years as a gladiator in
the arena of his constant abuse and attacks;
free to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless
and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams
of Spring again!
My Madness, Me...
Confined by this straight-jacket,
strapped in, numb and dumbed,
a washed-out, has-been, also-ran,
body, eyes, the equilibrium of mind,
rattling like stones in an old tin-can.
Still, I am,
and I am unchained,
my dreams taking flight, soaring,
above these claustrophobic walls,
of synapses, and dungeons of stone,
swooping through green valleys,
taking a detour to savour the joys,
soaked in torrential, evergreen memories,
of a younger man, with passion in his bone.
My wings unclipped, unshackled, free,
I am, and though I am unable to see,
At long last,
I took it in my grasp,
As the droplets came to a clasp.
Lifting my hands freely,
Oh is it good to be me!
Kiss the rain,
Be my fame.
Grow my crops,
Stop the clocks.
Fill my eyes,
With Gods only cries.
Lets take off our clothes,
Let it show us where the river goes.
Life is good,
Just where I stood.
Kiss the rain,
Blow the wind,
Ain't no shame,
In showin you whats destined.