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Best Famous Free Verse Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Free Verse poems. This is a select list of the best famous Free Verse poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Free Verse poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of free verse poems.

Search and read the best famous Free Verse poems, articles about Free Verse poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Free Verse poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

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Written by Maya Angelou | Create an image from this poem

The Lesson

I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.


Written by Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings | Create an image from this poem

a total stranger one black day

a total stranger one black day
knocked living the hell out of me-- 

who found forgiveness hard because
my(as it happened)self he was 

-but now that fiend and i are such
a total stranger one black day
Written by Muhammad Ali | Create an image from this poem

I float like a butterfly, sting like a bee

I float like a butterfly, sting like a bee
Written by Tupac Shakur | Create an image from this poem

The Rose that Grew from Concrete

Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping it's dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared. 
Written by Rabindranath Tagore | Create an image from this poem

Friend

 Art thou abroad on this stormy night 
on thy journey of love, my friend? 
The sky groans like one in despair. 

I have no sleep tonight. 
Ever and again I open my door and look out on 
the darkness, my friend! 

I can see nothing before me. 
I wonder where lies thy path! 

By what dim shore of the ink-black river, 
by what far edge of the frowning forest, 
through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading 
thy course to come to me, my friend?


Written by Rupi Kaur | Create an image from this poem

Our Souls Are Mirrors

god must have kneaded you and i
from the same dough
rolled us out as one on the baking sheet
must have suddenly realized
how unfair it was
to put that much magic in one person
and sadly split that dough in two
how else is it that
when i look in the mirror
i am looking at you
when you breathe
my own lungs fill with air
that we just met but we
have known each other our whole lives
if we were not made as one to begin with
Written by Mary Stevenson | Create an image from this poem

Footprints In The Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with
the Lord. Scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In
each, I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were
two sets of footprints; other times there was only one.

During the low periods of my life I could see only one set of
footprints, so I said, "You promised me, Lord, that you would
walk with me always. Why, when I have needed you most,
have you not been there for me?"

The Lord replied, "The times when you have seen only one set
of footprints, my child, is when I carried you."

Written by Robert Graves | Create an image from this poem

Free Verse

 I now delight 
In spite 
Of the might 
And the right 
Of classic tradition, 
In writing 
And reciting 
Straight ahead, 
Without let or omission, 
Just any little rhyme
In any little time 
That runs in my head; 
Because, I’ve said, 
My rhymes no longer shall stand arrayed
Like Prussian soldiers on parade
That march, 
Stiff as starch, 
Foot to foot, 
Boot to boot, 
Blade to blade,
Button to button, 
Cheeks and chops and chins like mutton.
No! No! 
My rhymes must go 
Turn ’ee, twist ’ee,
Twinkling, frosty, 
Will-o’-the-wisp-like, misty; 
Rhymes I will make 
Like Keats and Blake 
And Christina Rossetti,
With run and ripple and shake. 
How pretty 
To take 
A merry little rhyme 
In a jolly little time
And poke it, 
And choke it, 
Change it, arrange it, 
Straight-lace it, deface it, 
Pleat it with pleats, 
Sheet it with sheets 
Of empty conceits, 
And chop and chew, 
And hack and hew, 
And weld it into a uniform stanza,
And evolve a neat, 
Complacent, complete, 
Academic extravaganza!
Written by Spike Milligan | Create an image from this poem

The ABC

 'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet 
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"

Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"

"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."

C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."

"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."

"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.

"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."

X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
Written by James Kavanaugh | Create an image from this poem

To Love is Not to Possess

To love is not to possess,
To own or imprison,
Nor to lose one’s self in another.
Love is to join and separate,
To walk alone and together,
To find a laughing freedom
That lonely isolation does not permit.
It is finally to be able
To be who we really are
No longer clinging in childish dependency
Nor docilely living separate lives in silence,
It is to be perfectly one’s self
And perfectly joined in permanent commitment
To another–and to one’s inner self.
Love only endures when it moves like waves,
Receding and returning gently or passionately,
Or moving lovingly like the tide
In the moon’s own predictable harmony,
Because finally, despite a child’s scars
Or an adult’s deepest wounds,
They are openly free to be
Who they really are–and always secretly were,
In the very core of their being
Where true and lasting love can alone abide.

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry