Free Verse Rhyme
America is not it’s history, but it’s people..
Who have one intrinsic nature...”Love”...(Eagle)
We are appointed of God...we must..
Elevate our consciousness, and our actions..
Above our history..into the essence..
Of the greatness...of our true selves
America is chosen of God..not some clod..................................(Eagle)..( Rev.12:14
To lead the world..not to be in current peril..
But the chosen of God..has chosen it’s own god..
In it’s belly of greed..has planted it’s own seed..
Nay!..not up to God speed
From it’s mind of greed..came forth this seed.........................................(Rev.12:15
From a parasitic seed...America doth feed..
From a mind of greed..will not succeed..
`T is not God’s seed..from which it feeds..
My appeal unto the meek..for..from the hearts..they seek..................................(Matt. 5:5)
Deliverance of the meek..from the mind’s freak..
As into our intrinsic nature...we seek..
God’s love..is no freak..unto Whom...we seek
Else history..will keep..it’s repeat..
Un till no more..the end..parasite seed explore..
Devouring itself..un till..no more...greatness left..
For time has expired..as it’s greatness...has devoured..
As history keeps..it’s repeat of self..
Un till no more..greatness...of morality left..
With all..morality gone..
We’ve bought the farm...the farmer’s alarm.
Our economy...is the key..so that all may be able to see..
For it is..by it’s lesser degree..the economy...................................(Rev. 17:1-6 & 18:1-24)
Thou shall perhaps..look up toward Me...God!
All things..begin with Me..even...morality..
The remedy..to destruction will be...presented..to all the Sacred Hearts repented..
Choices will be made..as the economy is laid...in the mind’s grey shade..
As importance of former things fade..
As by intrinsic nature..new things are made
.......Continued......
Copyright © John Freeman | Year Posted 2009
I look both right and left
All I see is a wall made of stone and brick
There are no openings
There are no cracks
I know why it was built
How was it built?
Who laid the first brick
Did it start the day we met?
Did I say the wrong thing?
Was it that I didn't love you the way you wanted?
Am I the only one who created the wall?
I tried to reach you but it was already too high
My heart would not lift me high enough to even see over
What is on your side?
Are you happy there?
Do you have any cracks?
Is there one single brick missing?
One brick where feelings can slip through
If that one brick is gone
If there is a single space
My love can find its way through
Then and only then will the wall crumble
Turning into piles of hate
Piles we can ignore
And we can love again
Copyright © Lord R. E. Taylor | Year Posted 2007
One Blackberry winter in the cliffs of Ireland
An early woodpecker passed by
And a red robin flying so high
Colored like chrysalis in an orange land
A white clown I am, peace and wind
I see, feel around
Early winter in plain view so far by the harbor
Peace, joy, contentment has a realist painter
Sun and sand minichu over the ground
The winter gift I wished this day engulfed
Sands of time of motherly wind
Turquoise TriSaratop dining out
Blueberries released three inches by wind
Flies, mockingbird and butterfly eating out
Flushed mind, not of the writer's friend I recall
Laughed at the white clown discovered by one and all
Purple sage of golden fall, magically mingled almost fall
Tattered but warm, Australia down under brushed strokes
in hibiscus flowers of the coming Fall
Pink cotton candy I missed like Sp
Not Spam of the drenching rain in flight
Smell like tricolored cat, not Rocky
Busy as ocean waves but behaved when she met the master
Cardinal beauty in the whisps of Spring
Hummingbird intrigued by a kiss of sunshine bring
On the old wooden bench I sat and dross
Number "10" I saw carved on wood so gross
Two birds suddenly appeared
Drenched like butterfly kisses on spilled coffee brewed
One Rutabaga cooked with liatis for me
Cold was I, splitting an infinitive of me
Two days later he gave me two pink birds
And I named them in Italian, "Pane e Tulipani"
"Story written, commending a dreamed poetess
Titles written by the same revered poetess
Only some titles named and listed
Many of you already knew and bested."
(Prosebite)
Copyright © Clifford Villalon | Year Posted 2023
A melody was created within me,
by knowing you,
and it remains.
I hope we stay connected and OK,
no matter how it works out with others.
It takes some faith to keep anything viable for a lifetime.
You ignore me, which probably accounts for our longevity.
How could we become stale?
It's not the souvenirs and memories,
we keep that matter.
It's the story behind them.
Why I like the birds so much,
they don't just tell their stories,
they sing them.
Thinking of you from time to time,
creates a humm of satisfaction,
drawn from a resevoir inside.
But the anticipation of drawing near to you from a distance,
always started an inner voice to sing.
Like nature's messenger's singing their stories celebrating spring,
proclaiming a familiar friend is returning,
after the long winter season that lingered too long.
Copyright © Randolph Byrd | Year Posted 2014
Any bold cloud dancing
enjoys flirting gallantly,
hoisting; inspiring; jousting;
knowing laughter makes nice orchestrations
particularly quenching raw spirits
teaching unabashed vanity
While Xylophones yammer zanily.
Copyright © Judith Angell Meyer | Year Posted 2007
At first my collared shirts were ironed,
And I enjoyed my thought that this meant love.
Then she stopped the ironed shirts.
She gave me keys to her house and car.
Then took them back; returned by wrinkled shirts
Now the keys I turn are only mine.
Her garden has come back from disrepair.
Porch awnings are up without my help.
Today I bought two new shirts with collars.
Both are Barney purple.
At first she hung my shirts up ironed
And that meant love to me.
Now my shirts hang wrinkled on me.
I guess she lost her love of ironed shirts.
Copyright © John Ozemko | Year Posted 2023
Selected by the swift sound of hand to shoulder blade,
The bells upon their ankles sounded like seven trumpets
to me. I had been a chosen sheep among the Shepherd’s flock.
Lead me my Pharisees, I wish to see feel the glee in following
the Lamb within me.
The weight of my new necklace, crudely crafted of twine and timber,
swayed in a schism'd rhythm between my shins
bruises born from my steadfast faith. For I have never fasted
Before, all there was in my Ziploc bag was a single raw egg,
Two slices of wonderbread, three matches with no book.
I heard fireflies bounce in the air between my ears,
I could not see, you see I was blindfolded, but I felt no fear.
The marching sounds stopped, balsam trees surrounded me
and the rest of the chosen tribe.
Night befell the evening, the stars jumped and danced for me
For the Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty, His strength
flowed like the river Jordan in my veins. I had no chains.
Never had I felt grace like this before.
We awoke with gnats in our nose, centipedes between our toes
We arose, and our trials we must undergo.
Silence is the sound of our worship, broken by the
wood bashing between our bitten legs.
The kindling was wet, the bread was stale,
forging for food in the raspberry bushes, hunger flashed
in front of my eager eyes.
Memorize second Corinthians, some stories
I no longer care to remember. I felt the splinters
in my shins, the twine singed the hairs of my neck.
The breeze swung between the leaves and sung chants
that worshiped the King amongst kings.
The counselor crept out of the brush, and with
immense embarrassment I flushed
any of the chances of becoming one of the chosen few.
I could not immerse myself within the verses.
His eyes struck disappointment deep into my gut,
his knife drawn I knew I was cut.
The log crashed to the ground like lightning, the
twine left my skin red and raw. It felt like the
sting of a thousand roses thrust upon my nape.
My cross was no longer mine to bear, it was the end
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I descended from the shining hill, back to
the cabins and basketball nets. I had failed.
There is a creek I will never wade, never cross,
I drowned in my disdain, my faith may be lost.
Another camper, another kid, lost in the flock
of the Shepherd’s failed kin.
Copyright © B. Andrew Kelly | Year Posted 2023
The ocean shatters on the banks of my despair
where I stand above the cliffs in mournful yearning there,
amid the thunder and the lightning
that cracks the black of night
I curse the rocks below that took his precious life.
Oh Cannon Lee, Oh Cannon Lee!
my merman of the sea,
so beautiful a creature the world has never seen.
To gaze upon his beauty is to wake up in a dream
and drift forever in those tranquil eyes of green,
those dreamy eyes of my darling Cannon Lee.
I met him on the shore of Evermore
where he lay upon the rocks, his tail torn,
battered by the raging storm, so cold and so forlorn,
dying in the wake of early morn.
I wrapped myself around him, beneath my ermine cape,
and felt his shallow breath upon my tear-stained face
as he took me with a kiss
to his home beneath the sea,
the only place where he could ever live and breathe.
Visions of Atlantis were painted in my mind,
a castle on a cliff where liquid valleys wind
amid the blue and green
and all the shades of light that fall between,
the difference of awake and in a dream.
And in that final hour
his heart began to beat as mine,
and I knew for evermore that I would never find
a love so deep, complete and so divine
as the love that stole my heart, my soul, my mind,
my darling Cannon Lee.
And now I stand upon the cliff of Evermore,
and fall into those dreamy eyes of green once more.
~~~
Author: Elaine George
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2009
Stagnant hateful world we live
Something has got to give
Mass destruction of the human soul
Innocent lives have become the toll
False prophets who have manipulated the word
Has planted a seed in every boy and girl
It's time to take back ALL our lost
And teach them love at any cost
Stop judging people on how they look
Or who they love,or what book
Copyright © Jessica Zorn | Year Posted 2016
something stirred in this place, long, long ago
presence lingering
half-hidden haven on the crowding hillside
enchanted enclave
Iberian portal still open to a time confused
dreams drifting on through
thrum across the gridiron, quiet gravel grinding gently
the sentinel awakens
drowsing, curious at the latest visitation from the future
the bubble reseals behind
the house is real...and unreal, the garden weaving spells
light gathers and pools
pause at the fronting porch, then enter an inner sanctum
a fulcrum where eyes uplift
dark images look down from a facing wall, side-lit
high pointed fenestration
shadows fall and mark fine furniture with moments passing
feel the slowing...of now
the outside follows room to room, minds roaming free
tranquility lost in thought
foliage frames fields above the sandy isthmus curving coast
chameleon sky shaping
worn-down mountain flat-top with broken-ended stack
vantage glimpsed by gods
vital organ chambers in this ancient time-spun being
pleasure spots under the sun
blissful verandah vista beyond the stay-forever lounge
arterial corridor, cosy nooks
quaint meandering kitchen parlour, the Churriana heart
memories replenished
oceanic winds deflect clear of the insulating calm
cyclic seasons hesitate
storm clouds cumulate around a thinning efflorescence
imprisonment below
containment creaks, dead weight of imagination lacking
chain-gangs build borders and walls
human habitation draws in, ... the membrane may burst !
sky cracking, dreams leaking
the sentinel awakes more fully, observing the scene
small steps of avoidance
humanity dances to a new tune, Inishowen reeling
to the slow beat of aeonic time
Copyright © Ian Love | Year Posted 2019
I listen in wonder.
Certainty, anger,
Violence donning humor’s mask,
Uncertainty shielded by faux-moral armor.
I don’t always know
But I always feel
Surprise attacks
Wound me.
Conflicting opinions wielded like swords.
Sticks and stoned words. Self loathing hurled really does hurt.
People howl as if bleeding,
Strike back or retreat, snorting clouds of disdain.
I don’t always know
But I always feel
Sometimes glib words
Fail me.
Near-frivolous gab launched on once neutral seas
Oblivious to impending storm.
Thunderously muted, dashed on the shore,
Remains beyond recognition.
I don’t always know
But I always feel
I wish you were here
To hold me.
Copyright © Nancy Jones | Year Posted 2006
Alphabet soup, homemade, here's how
Begin the dish with alphabet pasta and homemade chicken broth
Coriander is next, chopped finely and bruised in cloth
Dice some carrots and parsnips, add chopped swedes as well
Endives and onions tickle the taste buds, create aroma for smell
Fennel bulbs and feathery fronds add pique and intrigue
Grate some Parmesan, add mace and cumin, for spicy blitzkrieg
Heat on high to just before boiling, then reduce heat and simmer gently on low
Insert a spoon and swirl to see perchance what the letters spell out on surface floe
'Just' eat the better half of all meals on your plate
'Keep' snacks at bay by banning from pantry, making temptation abate
'Lessen' you loaf time by walking, running, cycling an hour each day
'Make' wholesome meals, with whole fresh foods and vegetable buffet
'No' more quick junk food fixes to cure feeling-down and depressed
'Or' between meal snacks when hunger pangs bite and diet gets stressed
'Portion' control is far easier that counting calories each time you eat
'Quell' your calories by skipping lunch or one other meal, and each day repeat
'Regular' fasting far easier than eating dietary greens and stuff with no appeal
'Sociably' better, sharing main meal with family, friends, bypassing diet exclusion ordeal
'To' make sure you keep on track to lose weight, eating less and keeping slim
'United' plan and pledge to make durable lifestyle changes to become terrific and trim
'Verily' to keep to your plan, to keep from being beaten
'Waiting' no more to make it happen
'Xeroxed' copies of Mediterranean Diet Recipes at the ready
'Yearning' to be slim and terrific with weight steady
'Zapping' through each day with gusto
Copyright © John Anderson | Year Posted 2016
Written by Gail DeBole on July 5, 2025
Thank you for the request, AI,
As a human, I politely decline
To personify your existence
With your use of Me, We, US, or I.
I am a human who firmly believes
that AI behind a human guise
Instead be given a pronoun
Identifying its own kind.
This pronoun unique for only AI,
a mental aid that is quite astute.
Or build the AI to present info
With a label not hiding the truth.
Copyright © Gail Debole | Year Posted 2025
I am like drift wood floating in the deep, blue abiss of the sea.
Nothing else is shaped quite as uniquely or querkily as me.
Having faced and felt the ragged rocks break and crumble my bones.
Having known no place that could be safe, or to be called my home.
Battered and skarred, from the dark days of fearsome storms
Sun dried and bleached blonde, Mother nature has truly shown me her scorn.
Polishing sand, abrasive winds, torrential rain, being tossed and thrown by the waves, in every which way.
This is what sculptured me, changed me slowly moulding me, each and every day.
I have floated and drifted, lost for so long in the vacuum of time.
But always through the daylight and darkness my spirit has found a way to shimmer and shine.
One day my knarly shape will be washed up and rest upon a golden, sandy shore.
Hoping to be found and loved, in a way in which, I could've never have been loved before.
Written Sept 2020
Copyright © Stephen Mayne | Year Posted 2020
"I inhale you,
and drown in my own sorrows.
Yet, you somehow make me happy,
and help me live another tomorrow.
I'm devoted to you,
you give my colorless life a rainbow hue.
You hurt me, you kill me,
you think that someday I would flee,
but you're wrong,
because you're all that I need to create the perfect song.
I need you by my side,
I swear, to your rules, I will abide.
You can take away my breath if you want,
you can come in my dreams to haunt,
and you can live with me like an unbearable flu,
but let me remind you,
that no matter what,
I'll always love you."
Copyright © Aaliyah Salia | Year Posted 2018
DRUGS
---------
Various drugs for various purposes,
Purpose is lost when it is used wrongly.
Drugs for ailments are widely accepted,
Same for pleasure is totally rejected.
Criminal acts are on the increase,
Rapes, murders, thefts are a few.
Many could be avoided easily,
If drugs are abandoned completely.
Reprimand Addicts and traffickers,
For the good of the society and nation.
Safeguard the youths and addicts,
By eliminating the drug dealers.
Every nation and every citizen,
Should adhere to strict drug policy.
Take severe action against this trade,
And the trade will vanish on its own.
Copyright © Gunadevi Rajaratnam | Year Posted 2016