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Free Verse Life Poems | Free Verse Poems About Life

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

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Details | Free verse |

SWITCH magazine

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Thank you.
_______







Edinburgh (the poem that this post used to be)


Sweeping through your scotch broom,
weeping over your cobblestones,
lilting around the columns of Calton Hill,
is an Age of Reason so brilliantly brooding,
some nights I am kept awake
listening to Pendragon's breath caress Arthur's Seat,
and whispers drip from sills on St. Giles Street.

Though roots may drink from a sleepless night,
when morning light creeps through the curtains,
my love for you is renewed.




+/-

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013


Details | Free verse |

Love Poem 29

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with scars, wrinkles,
clichés, and repetition; I fall in love 
with items that people throw to the wind,
kick around, and step upon.

I fall in love with my enemies,
one of life's hardest lessons to learn;
I find haters to be marvelous motivators.

The old man who sits in a rain-gorged gutter,
his fist raised to the sky in fury
as he talks to an invisible audience
about how Apollo stole his dearly, beloved wife—

I fall in love with him too.

I fall in love with things that some people deem 
as ugly, dirty, morose, and immoral.
The more I fall in love,
the more I love each moment,
including the pain, torture, and misery 
that may unfold along the way.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while reinforcing the love I have already found.

If I write down treasonously teetering words,
the reader could assume such words 
to be rooted in rage, or a cynical outlook,  
when the words are actually birthed from love—
I love every word in existence.

I fall in love with the woman 
who is too shy to have a sincere conversation with anyone,
because she believes herself to be grotesque,
when in fact, she is exquisitely gorgeous.

I fall in love with broken daffodils, bent daisies,
a shattered seashell, the sweet stench of seaweed 
rotting on the shore, and the way her hair smells 
baking in the sun.
I fall in love with black and white photographs,
mesmerized by the essence that the dead have left behind.
I fall in love with marbles, the feathers of mourning doves,
and with the stray cat, who, after she watched the moving truck 
drive away, slunk around the alley in search of scraps—
over the years, she has proven to be a respectful 
and loyal companion (so easy to fall in love with, again and again,
while maintaining the love I already have).
I fall in love with saints, villains, rusted watering cans,
the way sunlight bends into prisms
when it shines through the cracked, antique windowpane
that I simply don't want to replace.


And as for the people who believe that it's impossible 
for someone such as myself
to fall in love with something new, every, single day,

well, I love them too.



2016 Pulse Remix, July 18th, 2016
(original version was written on April 6th, 2012)

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Closer

    The sky resembles the robin's eggshells
                                                      scattered across the ground,

a blue so seemingly infinite                     yet fragile,
cracks running between understanding and madness
 
       complementing each other

as divine truths in their own right
to conquer my mind,
to unhinge the doors,
making it unnecessary to pick rusted locks

      letting thoughts fly free,
                                       releasing love out into the horizon.

If frozen within caged snapshots of mildewed expectations,
      it will surely die,
                 but even so,
  I was willing to strangle it by holding on too tightly.

    
    Until I saw the sky and eggshells today


      Peppered clouds reflected on the water,
                                            paralleling speckles on the eggshells,
                                    remind me of the freckles on your face.

  We need to be wide-open-free,
                                                we need to fly,
         without focusing too hard on shells of yesterdays.

We need to unclench our fists,
unclench our tongues,
explore the vast blue peppered sky 
                                                 
                                                      on wings of letting go....

 so that we can once again feel with purity,       
 so that we can hold each other ever closer.







05.24.12

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012


Details | Free verse |

Of Ink

   Partial Paper
 -A poet in heat-

Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion all over the mask you wear
Nothing compares to black stains and broken nails

This part of you 
"A CAN'T BE REMOVED" tattoo
The tough skin you'll ever live in
Fountain pens of split identities
Who Are You?
Sinking  words like no other
Poisoned ink piercing every rhyme
Inferior poet, making the heart pure
Anger plus anger "GIVE ME MORE!"

You have a desire to paint all day,
Breathing and beating in every way
Toxic lines, from which ink flows
Inhaling images from the world
Deep and cold sorrowed emotions 
True love is always easy to poetize
Dear Poet:  "Ink Never Lies."

Pretty pink acrostic ink when she's nearby
Sugar and salt, Epic taste of reality
Ballads sang under the full moon
Sunny Sonnets, on any rainy day
Ode's of rivers from your past
A dark smile jotting down memory lane
Monologue tears brought under pressure
Loading cartridges of fresh Senryu and Haiku"
Dramatic red runs through your veins when all is done
Unfolding old and new propaganda's
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth

~*~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Playing Human

Introducing: Nate & Linda

The smile on my lips
is forced and coerced
I pretend to pay attention
give the best possible advice
everyone praises me
I'm so kind, polite and nice
It's all just automation
I rarely actually listen
certainly don't care
all I'm doing
is playing human
blending in
fitting in
I'm so perfectly hidden
you'll never even
see a curtain, 
   from where I stand
   Majoring in social events
   Put on a pedestal
   for computing with you
   I'm so perfectly hidden 
   smiling from time to time
   Labeling those 
   with all sincerity
   open soldiery  
   Passing along an appeal
   continuing to fit in
   blend in
   pretend
   force program 
   Is it just me or
   am I the perfect human?

~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Tonight I Could Paint A Moonlight

Tonight is not like other nights Tonight I could paint a moonlight with the smudged ink of my tears No its not the inexperienced arms of death which are longing to embrace my breath that fill this soul with pain and fear Nor is it the breeze of thousand needles 'neath the soft glow of my skin , What scares me most is... Not being here in a twenty years or so to tread love's kiss upon my daughter's cheek Feel my fingers running through her hair Listen to the sweet sound of her laughter Make a wish under the unnoticed starry stars and watch her dance beneath a repetitive boring sky. What scares me most is... Not being here in a twenty years or so To let the crimson of my lips bleed its rose close to your pillow and its fragrance 'pon your bed Its not being here to hold your blemished hands and say to you all words still left unsaid What scares me most is... That in a twenty years or so You will be here , still hating candles,all alone, Its missing the chance, to share those words that don't make sense yet mean that I have loved you all along. In a twenty years or so ...In a twenty years or so Will the ones I hold so dear still find a way to know ?

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Do Not Grieve Your Muse

              (For My Younger Self)



You have forgotten your muse.
You neglected her, in the hustle and bustle
of city life, in trying to carve a niche,
driving yourself too hard -
thinking it could make you rich.

She grieves.
Don’t you see her? She grieves.
How she longs to reunite with you
but you are far too busy, with everything new.
Too unmindful, too steeped in the practical
your change was so radical;
Too pragmatic, everything has become automatic.  
You have lost touch with your muse, 
no matter how she pleads you have become obtuse.
When will you reach into the softer, 
more introspective part of yourself?  
Please do not say, never.

Remember how you would write through the night
and people around you would wonder why…
Those moments were priceless, 
the times you communed with words so ageless
as you poured onto paper all your emotions -
In the night, you would write of happiness and pain,
of a young love, and of your simple dreams.

Go back to those simple dreams.
Do not allow yourself to be lost 
in the conundrum that is Life.
Step back, take stock, be still.
Find time for meditation, there is no condemnation
for those who acknowledge the need for salvation.
And as you find that inner peace, 
write once more.
Write, and write some more.  
Set free all those words that have long been kept
within your heart…the happy words, the sad words,
words both simple and intricate
that a reader will enjoy as he masticates
the meaning, the lesson, the joy and young wisdom.

Let your words dance…let your words s o a r !






31 October 2015
Poem of the Day 01 November 2015
Awarded 1st Place  -  What Would You Say Contest


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Recording/Re-playing/Recording/Re-playing

The farm
     and the porch light hums 
the sound of another 
orange dawn.

Burnt up – crisp
      aching new reaches 
of the imagination turn 
from corn
      to wheat
to the pungent shade
of dried blood on hands –
kissing corners of a mouth
never kissed.

Sweeping ‘cross in whispers 
two thousand years
      and more, come
words on the flat-line horizon,
dripping sideways,
like a red cat's eye marble 
on a circular seesaw
that knows no bounds;
rolling infinitely back
     and forth - 
ringing through ears that were once
in that ago (can you hear it?)
hearing the coming of a storm 
     being heard 
by another set of ears,
in some other when –

     some other marble.

When, speaks the unspoken.
When, treads where none may tread.
When, grips the barren outcroppings of space –
playing the unending moments –
where no other question hence forth

can grip.

Night sounds come in floods
of mauve,
      and quiet apricot;
slicing through oceans,
unsung,
      where no ears hear.

The farm: echoing, lowing and fawning –
Trying to stay true 
      to form,
bleeds into the fibers of a dream
once lived –
recognizing its existence
through the act of a moment, 
      lived.

The girl turns to face 
the enormity
of all she has yet to hear upon 
      the brazen, blazing horizon;
she strips down to goose bumps 
on the skin
that God gave her; 
opening her mouth to hear all
that she is –
 
      breathing in the dawn 
as it breaks.

The farm notes this coming.

The sky knows;

The wind knows.

The earth knows - relaxing
at her feet
      exhaling
through her soles,
resounding through the mouth
of the un-kissed,

breathing through this land; 
humming through porch lights,
spinning through atoms,
sifting though heavens,
recorded through lifetimes,
      and through into another’s
open mouth.




© Kristin Reynolds 1/9/09

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

M

Long before Horus' exposure on its trunk
and the nailing of Jesus upon its grain,
rings have been added within the Tree
while people proclaim to hold the key
of salvation: a continually borrowed mythology
swallowed; an extra-strength sleeping pill

pulling the masses into slumber,
and away from the awakened truth
that such supposed salvation 
is an illusory ticket far too easy to obtain
for it to be real—
a discriminatory, fairy tale-damnation
that multiplies the division 
of "Us and Them."

Too many people hand out the easy tickets,
then cut and light the tree:
a hypodermic injection of selfish memories
mixed into the mortar of temples designated as sacred,
while dogmatic shears amputate roots from the sky.

Too many people preach
about a cheap, polystyrene heaven,
while only a few walk the narrow path
that leads towards the kingdom within,
and live the sacrifice because it feels right.

Again and again, 
the ticket isn't so easy.
We must put aside our slumber-crutches,
stop watching the few carry the rest
upon their backs, until bones creak and groan
from the weight of people waiting for salvation
to be handed to them.

For 27 years, 46664 was etched into the bark
of a branch in the road.
When forked doors opened,
a living, breathing gospel
brought down fences,
and even then, the wood was made into crutches
for people to say, 
"M will fix it; M will do this, M will do that;
M will save us, just wait and see."

M is finally free. Yes, he is free!
Free, but not lost to us;
he survives as spirit-seeds.

We must cease to lean upon crutches;
we must purge the pill from our blood,
and awaken into gardeners who water the seeds
within the soil of our hearts,
before the vision withers completely,

and we remain only as husks
waiting to be hydrated by watering cans;
weakened hands and arms unable to lift their weight

held in our own hands all along, 
held in our hands all along.



December 7th/8th, 2013







+/-

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

TRUST ME - I'M A LIAR

Like a spider you drew me into your web
Cocooning me within your silver threads
Words, pretty words
I was totally taken in
Wrapping me up in silk ribbons, 
like a party gift.
One for you to open at your pleasure.
You teased me, toyed with my emotions
Powerless to resist, I believed your web of lies
I was trapped  …
"Trust me," you said.
Oh what lies, what wicked lies you wove


Foolish was I for believing your every word.
Love blinded my eyes,
My heart heard only your song.
I thought you could do no wrong,
Then slowly, the scales fell from my eyes.
I realized your web was one of deceit.
The cockerel crowed three times

You lied!

You lied!

You lied!

Keep yourself wrapped in the lies you weave.
Other innocents may fall victim to you as prey
But I've broken free from your hold,
and untangled myself from your web of deception.

06~27~16

Contest Pretty Talker Sponsored by Skat A

Entered into Any free verse poem in 200 words or less
Sponsored by Laura Loo


word count 157 words

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Footprints

Frothy waves stretch to kiss toes
Hikers plodding sandy coasts
Leaving imprints on the shore

Who journeyed here, perhaps this morn
As the orange orb created dawn
Summoning sun worshipers

Footprints far too large to fill
Descended down the shell-strewn hill
Then hugged the waves’ low tide

The retirement community
Sends scouts here daily just to see
If the sands of time still wait

Alas, they do, imprints remain
Sacrificed to sea when evening tide returns again

Their legacies erased each day
Another scout, another age
Will surely cast its prints anew

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

THE OLD OAK TREE


         Oh I am but a simple leaf
         withering within the gutter
         one summer of bliss
         now! Just an autumn flutter.

                   For some; destine to fall
                   upon stony ground, a part
                   of life’s infernal gyration.
                   Yet for those that fall
                   within your reach, to live
                   on within your soul!

         While limbs that stretch
         towards the solstice, create
         vivacious veins as channels of hope,
         a pledge of foliation continues
         to endure what spring has
         furnished; autumn expires. 

                   Yes! If we can but learn
                   from nature’s complex simplicity,
                   that life be of a cycle
                   from the seed we are conceived,
                   then let spring be my beginning
                   winter my exultant eve!

         Let our two cultures
         merge as one, the
         decomposed humus
         to become the sustenance;
         our transfusion the
         new beginning.

                   Let us breathe the
                   fragrance of born again;
                   let each slender limb,
                   stout body bear our
                   tenaciousness, each lyrical
                   leaf our life’s blood.

          Let us mollycoddle each
          precious tear that falls from a
          angry sky; dance gracefully
          upon the wind, embrace
          on moonless nights, bathe
           in summer madness.

                   Let us hear the bluebell call,
                   the daffodil pray, the apple
                   blossom bear witness; the
                   clamour of the field mouse
                   the pitapat of the butterfly
                   the silence of lovers in love.

             Let us be sanctuary to the
             symbolic songstress, scuttling
             squirrel, vulgar urchin;
             a fortress for the warrior
             a haven for the pacifist
             an inspiration for the poet!

 EPILOGUE 

                  The call of springtime
                   we will invoke,
                     logging representative
                      we will gladly choke;
                        nature’s guardian.
                          “This! Obliging old oak.”

       © Harry J Horsman  2000


        

         







Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

- A One Way Ticket -



Hills come alive with sweet sounds of birds whistling tunes
Filled with harmonious peace, you sail within time
Gentle whispering winds through branches of trees call

When you dare to take the first step forward
Everything feels so easy embracing such beauty 
Mixing voices of nature talk deeply flowering 

Thrown into the unknown life is truly magical
A universe inside feelings explode in one gift
The soul eclipsing delight warmed with sunshine rays

Like a virgin being on guard of the tiger claws, lions, bears and snakes
Only when your starlight kisses clouds evaporate 
Time continues and the butterfly waltzes freely once more

Crossing paths in this journey new beginnings grow
Small wild strawberries threaded upon a stem beg to taste
Opening one gateway within thoughts 

Setting sail into another world beyond 
With you salt of the ocean waves rise and fall
Upon rocks kissing pillar of strength

A cool breeze says goodbye upon your cheek
Loving spices land this boat on paradise sands where gold sparkles warm beams
When we meet at Heaven's gate batting lashes close entering a doorway into a dream 





Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :)  05.09.2015 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

DO NOT CRY





Come my friend, 
Do not cry
For
Tears blur your vision of life,
Distorting thus reality    
 
Come, my friend,
Wipe your tears and see how
Clearer the world appears:
The shapes sharper
The colors brighter
The flowers softer
The sounds more melodious
The scents more aromatic  

Come my friend,
Smile and you will enjoy more 
Nature’s beauty:
The majestic mountains
The green valleys
The impenetrable forests
The mighty rivers
The endless seas

Come, my friend,
Laugh and tell me, aren’t: 
Your pains subsided?
Your fears minimized?
Your hopes augmented?
Your doubts reduced?
Your dreams intensified?

Come my friend,
Together we are going to face life, by:
Crying, smiling, laughing, fighting, loving,
Living and dying. 

Come, my friend,
You are not alone anymore for I am 
Next to you and next to you I will stay,
No matter what may come
For
I wish to help you
So out of this adventure, that life we call, you
To emerge victorious! 




© Demetrios Trifiatis
   12 November 2015
  


POD

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Internal Interview

Living amid the blurred lines of my reflections
Stark cold fears snow me blanket my resolve
Nestled my leafless core begging for rebirth

Patches of life clumped to the reality of what is what was
Soul penetrating every doubt of self worth 
Raw exposure of glory days forgone

Dreams engulf the rapture of greener pastures
Revealed in roots embedded firmly in my foundation 
Seeds flourish branches extend and trunks stand firm

Copyright © Carol B. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

- Shiny Stars -





I put my thumb up while the thoughts of darkness came and went
In each person's life there may be sorrow and defeat
You see a little angel lonely, left and confused

The joy is so delicious and grief is lonely
We just have to taste what's coming,
something is sweet and something is bitter

No matter what happens,
I have seen beauty that holds back the darkness
You may say I'm a dreamer and violets are blue
















28.07.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

kaleidoscope

through a tiny lens
held firmly with hands
eyes gaze in awe..

with a simple twist
colours explode harmoniously
bright, sparkling,blinding..

the colours are stunning
so vivid, so alive
with truth as in life..

this ever changing vision
is but broken glass shards
not whole, not complete..

simple, plain, tiny pieces
they don't fit, they don't belong
different shades, different sizes..

fragmented, swirling on command
no direction,they stop; at one's touch
and through this seemingly disconnect..

therin lies their beauty
for these tiny glistening pieces
imperfect jewel tone shades, dance; together..

revealing the essence of life,
humanity and all who breathe
for they gloriously join; naturally..

to inspire joy, excitement, wonderment
the green piece could be a used wine bottle
tiny violet piece from a castaway vase..

regardless of their origin
these magnificant, illuminating pieces
unite as one and magically dance..

with truth as in life
beauty is as beauty does
fusing together, naturally, effortlessly..

kaleidoscope..

broken shards now glistening jewels
the spirit of every man, woman and child
is part of this most magical creation..

for every size, shape and gorgeous hue
is us; in every race, age & size
coming together, to create, to inspire..

tunnel vision seamlessly vanishes
as eyes are opened; captivated
at the wonderment, joy and harmony of..

becoming one; beautifully and with faith..

kaleidoscope.

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

A Life In Sepia and Watercolours

When I was just a little girl I painted soaring seagulls in a dawning sky of duck-egg blue I painted ladybirds and whimsical butterflies A red cottage with square-shaped windows A misty mountain with a purple hue. All my fields were evergreen with flowers falling like confetti in between. A rising sun in molten gold so bright with shifting leaves along a riverside. I painted mushrooms covering faries Unicorns, princesses and queens Happy trolls and Naughty elves riding on watercoloured bees. As such was life, Carefree As beautiful as dreams. Years rolled on, trees turned old Vibrant colours became the past in an hourglass. All shadows now, are black as night All that is left are sepia shades dim as the gloom of a Winter day. But little child out there, Listen to me.. Never let clouds cover your soul with ash -of-grey Like candyfloss, clouds might seem huge But they're made of fluff...Blow them away. Blow them away before it rains Yet if rain pours its heavy drops and gusty winds whirl from strong storms Never give up! Lilt up your head, seek with those eyes In every journey a rainbow hides Just keep on searching, do not be blind Leave all your troubles way back behind. All shadows now, are black as night All that are left are Sepia shades dim as the gloom of a Winter day But now and then a spell's bestowed upon my name With an old brush and childhood colours I paint an orchard with sugar-maples and fragrant blossoms blooming in May.

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Like You

Like you ...

I dream of drifting away on a sunny day
high above the cottony stuffed clouds
I'll glide erasing all the hurtful feeling inside 
a season of fear will somehow disappear
and I'll be free ...like you... you see

Crazy you say ...

My dream with Prince Charming happy endings
filling out candy corn fields of sugary substance
not slowing down to lick the wounds of old
I'm told too bold to wallow in the worries
that others have laid down at the foot of empty

Like you...

Love dances off the lashes longing to look
past the surface wiped down with yesterday's
cloth soaked in the tears of disgust crying out
to be held at bay where the footprints have
walked into the kiss of tomorrow's setting sun

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

A Chicago Pearl

A Chicago Pearl She put her dreams on hold but carries them up proudly as she serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner, six days a week to make ends meet; she’s a realist who doesn’t recoil from pain or regrets; she faces them head on yet she likes the blues because they soothe her bruised life that sometimes feels stagnant. She awaits a new start and the rain in her head is held tight, she will not be defined, nor resign herself to scattered dreams. She hangs firm in her mind to these blooming flowers she saw in a terra cotta pot on her way to work this morning; like them she’s growing stronger in her voice and in her step. Tonight they’ll light candles in the dark “You’re a Chicago Pearl, Rondja!” he said as she topped his coffee cup; she briefly held his gaze, and then let out the broadest of smiles.

Copyright © Anne-Marie Coreggia | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Things That Seemed Poetic

Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

This Girl

This girl, she's crying inside,
But all everyone sees is smiles,
This girl, she's hurting inside,
She's lived like this for quite a while,
Always holding her pain inside, 
She won't ruin everyone's time,
This girl, she's breaking down inside,
But all she does is smile,
Those deep eyes,
Hold a lot world of misery,
Playing pictures from her mind,
Showing her past, her history,
She doesn't want to remember,
But the memories continue to play,
Every night she prays,
Wishing them away,
But this girl lies with her laugh,
And hides behind a mask,
So that no-one can see her pain,
Her past, her denials,
This girl, she's dying inside,
Although no-one can see her pain,
She just continues to smile bright,
From day to everyday,
With beautiful lying eyes,
For everyone to see,
Everyone and anyone,
Everyone but me.

Copyright © Loretta Bailey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

- Life Behind The Mirror -



Enchanting chambers made of glass 
Breaking reflections shatter falling into ruin
The history behind the tears and sorrow of a heart
Fragile echoes inside truth broken always sings 
If this be loves beauty like dropping crystals splash
Speaks a language of one thousand tongues when the sparks fly
 
The soul released from thought 
Faraway shadows cover a dream
When you have found what you're looking for
And always breathe in the beauty of nature
Silver buds glisten in morning dew 

Millions of years before you or me
Weeping willow hangs heavy over us 
These things and so many more
have made you and me understand
Blossoming sunshine shades golden 
Crowned kissed by love in the summer  rain 

What a beauty to wake up to birdsong
Carried on gentle winds when they sigh
Hearing screams from the raven far up in the mountains
Secrets of the water flowing whispers 
Our lives have a meaning here on this earth
Stars circle your space in another realm 
Thoughts and dreams put together as mosaic
A moon smiles as shadows dances to a joyous tune 
The smell of pine needles tickle in the nose
As a sun lights our footsteps with golden harmony 
Commitment strong and sense of purpose is the key to life
 






13.05.2015
Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Slowly Turning Japanese

I think in Japanese,
write down my thoughts in English,
then twist it all back into sushi:
a tasty bite to eat.

My mind is origami
folding thoughts into meditation;
meditation unfolds
into a crisp sheet of city lights.

I love you big much,
love you big time;
I love the way you giggle nervously.
Titter-titter:
"Tee-hee-hee!"
It must be amazing to find everything so funny.

Big city, sake sunset;
a karaoke moon rises 
over a robotic, neon inception.
(transmutation)
Transformers, Transformers:
autobotic-neurotic Bumblebee
comes to the aid of Samurai Prime.
"Autobots, transform!"

Bored of the bright lights?
Weary of the snappy-happy gaijin
doing photo-photo
while they search for a sweet sakura-panpan?
Then head up to Hokkaido,
where there's less sucky-sucky,
and more bow-down-low-austerity
alongside the 108 gongs a-bonging.
Take a leisurely stroll,
chant a few prayers,
speak with the sacred cedars,
take a dip in the hot springs
with some smiling monkeys,
and together, watch snow fall.

Nippon, you offer everything.
I can eat 20 times a day 
without gaining a pound.
There's always more room
for miso, chanko nabe, shabu-shabu,
gyozo, okonomiyaki—
I am going to stop writing this list
before I drown in my saliva.

I refuse to look back,
refuse to go back to the boredom
of white picket fences and hamburger dreams;
I want to stay here forever.
I love you big much,
love you big time;
totemo ureshii da.




March 1st, 2012

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Forty Today

Visited you today
as the sun set in the horizon…

the orange tinged carnations 
were a perfect complement 
for the skies
and for you… 
orange and blue
always remind me of you

the winds softly blew
and I just sat there
staring at the grass,
well more at your name really…

hardly believing
what I am looking at, 
that it’s been seven years

of missing you,
of just putting that reality
at the back of my mind…

But there are days,
such as today
which make me 
confront that reality—

I see your smile,
remember your laughter
celebrate your spirit
and your love

Tears, I tell you I have
the most stubborn tears
maybe because they 
make it so real for me?

I look around me
and look for that sign

Nope, not there…

I say a prayer
and speak to you
thankful for the life shared

I kiss the date that you were born

and walk away

my reflection on the car window
misty

One last look around,

and then I see it…

a cat, as we drive away…

Skies now streaked purple and pink


**My brother would have been 40 today, May 6…

Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Suncatcher --recited

A visitor— icicle fingers tapping on my windows' pain— white blanket in tow Hurting enough, I paid him no mind so he kept tap, tap, tapping ‘til cobweb-like cracks appeared: a final, gentle tap shatters my windows My rainbow world now smothered, pallid, forced into boredom and slumber, sunlight chased away and I am never the same again… Soul gets plunged deep in the cold blinded by whiteness, numbed with simplicity there is an eerie stillness, almost as if no one dared to breathe, even the barren trees refused to quiver brittle dendrites seem to claw the sky futile though, for they are frozen, grasping at nothingness, clouds stubborn and stoic, brooding in silent grayness …and then from within, a filigreed whisper escapes palpable and brave~ it weaves its way through the branches, gathering strength wherever it went it beckons to the sky, which in turn gives in and celebrates ~ letting dainty confetti fall white, yet amazingly graceful each flake falls softly on the ground— a fashionable brocade trees softly sway now, and dance to a winter song the sky weeps with happiness for seeing a glimpse of life— diamond teardrops they catch a bit of evasive sunlight, of which I thought I’ve lost and give birth to miniature rainbows… all this time, Sunlight was there I just never knew how to catch it.
an audio of me reciting this poem http://www.4shared.com/music/Q_tqp2LEba/suncatcher.html?#

Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Tangled Vines

I walk along the old familiar path in the wood of my childhood - the place that I willingly abandoned for the lure of new friends and activities that carried me ever farther from my simple carefree days. Nothing here is quite the same, and all that once was large to my child’s eyes has grown small. How can it be? The houses on the fringe of this old wood are the same houses we always came upon as children as we ran - exuberant wild Indians of our enchanted forest - away from our foes and into the safety of “clearings” - those back yards of neighbors whom we never really knew. Our small legs ran so quickly down that well-worn long-ago path in the days when we were soldiers hastening to secure our forts. Other times we searched for treasures in the wood's crevices, finding - one day - bed springs, metal pieces, and old mattresses and converting them into contraptions for jumping. I tread slowly, noticing how many spots along my way are now overrun with weeds and tangled vines. How did I ever not notice there were vines here at all? They must have been well hidden off our path. Perhaps a kindly neighbor kept the pathway clear of them out of consideration for all us kids. I cannot know. . . It was so long ago. I glimpse the raspberry bushes we used to happily discover each summer when fuzzy berries showed brightly red and plump. And there’s old man Miller’s house, whose fence we used to climb so we might quickly steal the juicy apples fallen from his tree. Sadness tugs at my heart. The tree has vanished, and in the place of old man Miller’s shed now sits a swing set looking barely used. I head toward the center of this miniature forest recalling how it used to hold such grandness in my young imagination. The pond where we used to skate in winter has disappeared as well. In its place is a broad high pile of dirt, and at the north outer edge in the distance I can see diverse machines used for excavation. Maybe soon the wood will be cut down. Though small, this place was once so wondrous! I think back to our Christmas vacations, looking for the perfect little hill to drag our sleds up- and the thrill of barely missing trees as we slid back down. Everything was magical, crisp and clean. Suddenly I trip on tangled vines I’ve failed to see. The vines are stumbling blocks that have blotted out the utter charm this locale once held for me. You’d think that being smaller to my grown-up eyes, the wood would seem even simpler now. But no, it’s lost the grace of my simple and easy childhood days; It’s become a labyrinth of too lush plant life. I think how - like my complicated life - this old familiar place is decaying and is overwhelmed with all these obnoxious vines and how one day - like the pond and Mr. Miller’s apple tree - this dear wood will have vanished. inspired by events of my childhood and the contest of Constance la France and now for Caleb Smith's In the Woods Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Pretty Flower in the Deep woods

VINEYARDS of HAPPINESS          ---------------------      GARDEN of SORROW

There is no greater Happiness,-----------when-----------Pulling away  sorrow
then being in my  lover's arms,-------letting go of----Broken memories 
Kissed by his  hungry lips,-------------------------------Rejecting all hunger, of love
spoiled by his sweetest charms.-----------------------The surface spoiled look in his face

There is no greater Happiness,------------------------Holding the depth of solitary sorrow
feeling my love's warm embrace,-----------------------Feelings of cold,no emotions on Gods grace
Meeting in our secret GARDEN,-----------------------Prolonging the visit to our VINEYARD
Opening dreams' golden gates.------------------------the door you open leads into dark woods

There is no greater Happiness,-------------------------Reviving every motion of sorrow
and there 'll never be ,for me,----------------------------trapped forever inside of me
till that far promised day,------------------------------------Broken promises day by day
My Honey  love s' here with me.------------------------a wound so fresh, damaged like a twig
                                                   

            HAPPINESS  -------------------------to-------------------- SADNESS

Happiness to me,is as easy as can be,----------------Sadness triumphs over anything in me
a doughnut,a cup of English Tetley tea.------some nights----------A bucket of ice cream,a bottle of Jack Daniel
Lying on my beige leather sofa,------------some days-------------Slouching up against the wall
Covered by a Woolen red tartan rug,------------- tears fallen like a red river on the carpet
Hugging and Kissing,Fondling and snogging,--- some mornings ---Crying and Weeping,Wiping the Sobbing
Just watching T.V.------------------------------------------Just imaging you                                                                    
                                          

         THE  ROSE===============================WITHER

Love is a Pink Rose,--------------------------------------------A rose in the dark woods
with a crown of thick Grey thorns,--------------------------Like a cloud following you
delicate and strong.-----------------------------------------------Tilting till its gone
By ;Charma                                                        By : P.D.


inspired By : Charmaine Chircop            compose By : Poet Destroyer

~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

Butterflies

BUTTERFLIES

Clouds passing by swiftly.
Like the desert sands,
tiny grains rest in my hand.
Here I lay peaceful on the ground.
My life finally reached its final strand.
Breathing faintly with no sound.
My life slowly slips back into Gods hands.
Counting each beat from my heart.
Leaving behind this shallow land.
Taking a long glimpse of this magical world.
Something came to carry me away.
Without giving me a chance to say goodbye.
This wind gave me a sensation in not wanting to stay.
Gliding away into the blue sky. 
Finally I feel this heavy load removed.
I look back and see where my body still lays.
An empty temple, no longer full of grace.
My life in front of me revealed.
Blessed for all those days I would pray.
God protecting me with his shield.
Kept his promise to take me back one day.
Now I am back where I belong.
Pass the horizon of the ocean sky.
Living among the butterflies.
Reunited with my love ones.
Angles flutter into the sky.
When your life on earth is done.
For you I will wait beyond the sun.
Somewhere deep beyond the skies. 
Your day soon will come with butterflies.

~SKAT~   *re-post*

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

When Do We Start To Live - Collaboration with Space Cadet

When Do We Start To Live   Collaboration poem: Space Cadet and Darren White Voice: Wesley C.
How do I know we’ve lived?           If you’re certain then tell me when?           When? When have I lived?      Do I live now?           Is it the tap-tap of my hand against the window;           the drum played by my fingers on the chair?      Is it the slowed back-beat, or the snare drum speed,           under your hand at rest,           on my chest,           in this 2 AM discotheque. How do we know we’ve lived?      Is it a faint notion, or         movement in my legs:         A lotus reed on my calves         I'd never felt until it tickled me? How do I know I’m still alive?      Is it when the ice-blue swaddles          me in abyss, of          inky darkness?      Or when I’m a borne flutter of this butterfly          crinkled away in my chest          cavity?      Or as sun rays play          with light and words that tumble,          crumble, and fall to pieces,          in their own stubborn way,          here,          on this paper?      Is it found in a friend’s voice          that pulls me from dark,          penetrates a radiance inward,          up from me, out,          to my face,          ablaze with why I'm here to exist?

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016