Free Verse Home Poems | Free Verse Poems About Home

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

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Details | Free verse |

The Sea Gulls Came Home

The horizon was brewing ominous clouds,
Dark as if they came out of hell.
The once azure sky became hazy
As the north wind chilly breezes
Puffed up more stratocumulus,
Rain-heavy clouds that signified storms.

I rested against the balustrade
Of the promenade, looking down at the sea.
Waves upon waves dashed at the dark crags.
Sea spray washed my tired face.
Above the seagulls came to enjoy
The thunderstorm that would soon erupt
Above the small bay, now emptied of boats.

The sea gulls were indeed a sight to see.
Only a hundred or so circled the inlet.
They were truly a harbinger of storms.
They flew against the wind, or with it,
Or soared above it, much as they felt like it.
They plunged into the sea for food
Irrespective of where the chilly wind blew.
They were an elegant sight to see.

As the first drops of rain fell, I betook myself home.
My wife was waiting anxiously for me
Afraid I’ll get wet.  “Watching the birds?”
Clearly she was not very much amused.

She turned her back on me, as thunder boomed
And lightening flashed but I went with the wind,
And clasped her round her winsome waist.  
She did not resist, neither did I.

5 June 2017
POTD 6 June 2017

Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017


Details | Free verse |

Under the Willow Trees

A path strewn thick with ruddy-faced leaves
led to nowhere and everywhere in fantasies, 
our near-death rescue from boredom 
        come afternoon chores and homework pages 
                                                                 wrinkled in time.

I try to recall all I tried to forget. 

Back home, under the willow trees, I weep
for childhood, friendship, 
                         for innocence surrendered,
all I thought I could keep, fuzzy lines
           between love and loss,
 practical days that come with age.
I close my eyes to see through tears -
          you,  a dance in rain showers, oval-spheres
of costume jewelry, tea parties and dragons slain 
rays of sunlight climbed, 
imagination uncaged,
             carefree hours,
                 diamonds in darkness,
restless dreams fell like leaves
                       on the wrong side of the tracks.

Two kids set free in skies shaded gray -
we said forever, a pinky swear I remember,
naïve in make-believe worlds. How many years
passed by, miles kept between you and I?
A phone call once-in-a-while reminded 
of our   bitter, listless eyes, 
        our disappointment in distant words.
I hope you always knew the truth,
                    I loved you, dear friend.
It was myself, I hated.

Time cradled our laughter,
held it on the breeze, 
                         childhood secrets
shared with ease on our path, 
thick with               summer's dead leaves.  

We, too young to notice, 
                          fell into brittle leaves 
                                          trodden bare 
before first snow.

Our laughter now echoes in dreams, 
chaffing our willow trees 
                                       still sulking low, 
moss brushes away tears in timeless beauty, 
         and waits for you to come home.



An old poem, revised 3/15/17
249 words total

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

The Mirror Of Time

I hold three magic rocks, in my hand. Rolling them over and over and over. Leaving this 
reality behind, far behind I stepped into the magic mirror and there I was back in 1959.  It 
was the same month, November.  I looked around and it was the same as I remember it had 
been then.  Mom looked so young and beautiful and said, "The school bus will be here in a 
few minutes."  I looked at the calendar and saw that it was November 25th, the day before 
Thanksgiving.  I said, "But mom, I haven't been in school in forty years."  I got this strange 
look from her but she didn't say anything.  Walking toward the door I caught a reflection of 
myself in the hall mirror.  I was so young.  My hand immediately went to my face and I 
stopped and stared at myself for a few minutes. I said, "Mom, can I stay home and be with 
you today?"  Again I got that strange look from her, then she smiled and said, "Sure, it's 
your last day before Thanksgiving anyway, why not?"  She and I sit down and talked for 
hours.  Then I said, "Do you mind if we go next door and visit with Maw Maw and Paw Paw?  
I haven't seen them in so long and I've missed them terribly!"  Again another strange look 
from mom. Next door I saw Maw Maw and Paw Paw as they had been in 1959.  I wept and 
they all looked at me so strangely.  I hugged them and kissed them all and we talked for 
hours.  Dad finally came home from work and I ran and hugged him so hard. "Dad why did 
you have to leave us in June?"  Again I got strange looks from everyone.  My tears were 
falling.  I saw Aunt Frances and Uncle Bill who lived beside Maw Maw and Paw Paw. "I've 
missed you both for so long." Strange looks again!  They didn't understand because to them, 
it was just another day in 1959.  The day grew late and I knew my time was soon ending.  I 
got near the magic mirror and mom and dad were standing there so young and healthy. I 
said, "Mom I'll see you on the other side of the mirror, but dad, I'll see you another time, 
another place."  They didn't understand.  I stepped back through and my reflection was as it 
had been before.  Mom was sitting in her chair at age 84.  I said, "Mom, do you remember 
the day before Thanksgiving, 1959, when I stayed home from school and we spent the day 
together?"  She said, "Yes, it was so strange that you could never remember anything about 
it.  It was as though you had amnesia.

Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2009


Details | Free verse |

My family is everywhere

My family is everywhere like wild seeds sown
On the whim and bluster of a wind
Some left for Cuba before the revolution
Bring green stalks of sweet grass to sugar
And are still there, root sunken in the earth
Grafted branches without memory now
Or recognition of ancestral home,
Separated by language and new history
Thick as the depth of our watery boundaries.

Some in Panama built the canal, but no bridge
For home when their meagre cents were spent
Too soon. I met a few with little knowledge
But no anxiety for early morning mist of blue
Over the mountain, looking still to see them
Coming home like birds when summer is done.
Some went to Venezuela to see the oil
They said was black as Africa in the new world
Brazil: there football is more than economy
Gladiators: bloodless troubadors of the new army 
And many drifted into the squalor of Costa Rica,
Nicaragua, Ecuador, searching for light
Amidst old civilizations brought to ruins
By Conquistadores majesty and Roman might.

The only one who report are those from Canada
Is it because of the language, because they proper
As they do in America. Is there nothing in them
That longs for home, to leave the Mexico to her Aztecs
Her cactus lace with golden strands of sun.
When I was in Germany, Austria, France, far away
As Holland, Rhine and Danube linking invisble
Heritage, I met them, distancing the old decay
"We are thinking to move to Taiwan or Japan"
They told me, poverty does make a barren land
So I understand the boat people, not lying
Like Columbus, they seek the same treasure
And yet for their truth reap some displeasure.
I could package it for them to sell, but cannot agree
When the wind rattle the wattle of desolation.

My family is everywhere scattered like wild seeds
In fresh forests fretting with the burden of the wind.

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,

I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless. 
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger. 
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
“…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death! 	
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive. 
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought.”

Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

When the Wanderer Returns

As winter trees exhume their leaves
for spring
and Autumns' sacrifice 
retreats in memory 
Summers of sangria blossoms 
drape their crimson blooms-

exhale against an arc of sighing skies

Seasons conspire
to tempt the wanderer on, 
but it’s the stolen thoughts of childhood 
that bring the wanderer home.

© Suzanne Delaney

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Home Of The Hang Man

Home Of The Hang Man

The children are so full of doubt
No one is allowed to speak
No one is allowed to shout
Opinions are driven underground
Seems that every time they do it wrong
Always been the same old song
Never get it right
Never allowed to speak
Never allowed to fight

It’s a strange house
The children are so full of doubt
A strange house

The kids just don’t understand
They don’t see that this is the way it’s all been planned
Keep them frightened is the game
Then all those “other” things won’t need to be explained
Why is big brother always mad
Why is younger brother always sad
Why does he sit in his bedroom all alone
Because it’s a strange house
And not a home

It’s a strange house
The children are so full of doubt
A strange house

Everything they do or say
Is turned into to a weapon to build upon the barricade
And Dad pretends he’s not afraid
Of the sudden discovery of suffocated memories
The dark deeds linger in a cage
Of ridicule and violence that makes the babies cry
So Mum has buried her suspicions worryings away
In Sunday lunches usual farce
A make believe gathering of corrupted loving and pretended merry making

It’s a strange house
The kids are so full of doubt
A strange house




Big brother hit the self destruct
With pills and needles long before he decided he was gay
No one ever asked him why he was so mad
And  no one ever asked why younger brother was so sad
He sits up stairs in his room 
Surviving in a sea of doubt
The suffocated memories have all come out
He’s always sad and he’s always alone
The babies to they both have grown
But he doesn’t know them anymore
It’s been so long since he left that so called home

It’s a strange home
The children are so full of doubt
A strange house

Their children are so full of doubt
Brought up and made this way
All their futures turn to grey
As all the buried memories fight their own way out
Remember why they always felt so wrong
Remember what happened when we were young
And mother just closed her eyes she did not help
All the future turns to grey
Brought up and made to be this way

Father was the hang man who took their lives away



Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |

Carry Us Home

We stood at the edge of contemplation 
watching through the window to the world
but not ever knowing where we stare

We fathom the scale of injustice 
weighing heavily on ordinary minds
where ordinary is atypical
and creativity is pushed
back into the recesses of time

Awaken with me in yesterday's linens 
our dramatic interpretation of life's song
dispell rumors of ruins in waiting
and let your sensuous tune carry us home 

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

home

lingering softly
in the angelic silence
of a magical new night...

i remember whispered words
the softness of your breath
tingling the nape of my neck...

your eyes deep pools
touch light as a feather
my head on your chest...

the sea scented air
delicately cocooned us
our lips barely touched...

waves lulled our own melody
of sweet sacred tunes
as hearts became one...

i remember the moment
that time stood still...

how do i describe
something bigger than words...

for in the air
that i breathe

it is you
who has blessed me...

heaven sent you
from the stars above...

the sound of your heartbeat
was when i knew...

i

was

home.







reworked 08-10-2016

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Going Home

Going Home



There’s been so many things
That I’ve run from
Been so many things 
That I have run to
 
Some times with open arms
Sometimes on my knees
The dusty pavements and paths
Have welcomed me

Searching in the dark
By match burnt candle light
Walking in the tunnels
Of too bright sun light

Tracks which lead to the mountain head
Where thin air led my heart
Back to the valleys 
Where you slept

Through barren grass 
So many in their fields
Just veins inside a forest floor
Wandering forever lost

To the sea the roads have brought me
To the waves which can only show me
A map to guide me
Back to you

And on the tourist clouds 
Which escape at sunset
On the freedom breeze 
Where their colours breathe me
I no longer roam
I find my way back home

While the foot prints that I leave 
No longer matter
The sands of time 
Lost to their own desert
Just a life inside an hourglass

I haven’t roamed on these bridges 
Of forever
Just to end the single thread 
Which has lead me
Balanced on the tight rope 
Of your heart

And it may be the freezing rain 
Which comes to batter
And there may be no light at all 
Upon the road
Still the tower of your love 
Still shines there before me
A compass to guide me on

And on the day 
When the sun billows into being
And the sails of love 
Will find my tired feet
When your hand is no longer the ghost 
Which saves me
But a palm that reaches out 
To feel my own

I will no longer roam
I will have found my way 
Back home

Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Her Lover

Moving quietly so not to wake her,
My lover half covered sighs like a purr,
We have had our pleasure
And now it's time for me to leave.
But the sight and smell causes me
A moment's thrill as I remember
our first kiss.
But I must leave, no time to dwell,
Thoughts of what could be,
Bow down to what life must be.
Without her my life is grey,
At home my other life awaits,
Here I am a lover,
At home I am needed -
but as a wife and mother.

Copyright © Alan Short | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

A mother's treasures

A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother 
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her 
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this allotrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevalent from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths 
roles and qualities of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job 
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Home Sweet Home

There is one place in this lonely life
where I can run away to on this long, dark road.
Only the moon knows my way home tonight
and I hold the key to this door in my heart.

I see an open book still on the table
waiting for my eyes to read again,
and an inviting, marshallow-soft pillow,
offering to cradle my sleepy head
and uphold me in what dreams may come....

The warmth of home is where my heart is tonight.




(This poem was inspired by the song "Home Sweet Home" by Motley Crue.)


Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Before I go home

8:00 am

I listen to hums of 70 degree air conditioned whispers.

Playful, chirping birds swing across damp meadows
Under humidity’s gentle fog

‘Tis a silent morning, 5 days in the making

A gentle reflection upon my minutes,
Absorbing breaths of home

So much laughter
So much joy
So much food

Even a miniscule side of frustration’s true colors,
Amusing attempts to sludge my momentum

My friends made themselves known.

The others become answered insignificance.

My beating heart couldn’t be more grateful. 

My pupils reflect upon final nights’ splendor,
While they write lessons upon life’s chalkboard

Fury of Salsa & Disco beats
Pulsate across my spongy cerebellum
Holding hands with my Mother in proprietary motions

The whites of my eyes become silver injected pools of serenity.

What more could I ask for?

I listen for 8 & 4 year old footsteps to silently speak
Exacerbated adoration, filling my smile with electric permanence

In these silent, reflecting moments before I pack my bag, my soul’s window
Prepares…

…I await aromas of a Puerto Rican brunch
Before I go home

I await touches of a gentle waterfall against my cheek
Before I go home

I await exemplary wishes from roots of family tree to return tomorrow
Before I go home

And, after these shedding tears & resilient smiles are embedded within,
I await the reckoning that will shake foundations into Ionosphere grins

When I
Return home

8:30 am

©Drake J. Eszes

Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

A Blessed Year

    "A Blessed Year"



in the Year of 2012 our reflection
reminded how truly blessed
our family felt with strong emotion.
a new home with lovely trees
and blossoming bushes flourished
green grass for animals to enjoy
beautiful birds singing melodies
acres of ground for gatherings
and celebrations.

happiness surrounded new parents
my military son and his wife
welcomed new baby boy with
pride and joy and love.
God has given us so many reasons
to cherish each other and Life
for love rules our home always.


through sickness and death
we fought the good fight of faith
and trials made us a strong family
material possessions allow feelings 
of importance ... but ...
we learned that love is the 
key element to this earthly existence.

so in the Year of 2012
we share this love with everyone
thus extolling God, who loves us all
unconditionally.


*For Carol Sunshine Brown's In the Year 2012 Contest. 

Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

At Home

When I am in your home,
I am back to Laos after a lifetime.
I am in a place beyond words:

       Where the steam of the kitchen

       The smell of warm coffee

       The sound of a television

       The taste of a meal made with kindness

All feel like an America where our dreams come true,
Our memories return

And everything lost is found once more
Waiting with a smile, a sabaidee.

Copyright © Bryan Thao Worra | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

OF PERMANENT DWELLINGS



An episode of birds hovers beneath a marmalade moon , just for a while, as cotton-clouds sweep the brushed limbs of a sky ready to cradle the cloaks draping avian settlers; those who like us ascend on hammocks of dreams windblown by heady seasons gliding through embroidered spring, the livid lust in summer, on to a pious psalm come autumn, soon... opal stalagmites of winter: how abrupt and immediate this leaving! Here we are, beyond shadows tasting the song of evening walks soaring with Aurora’s mist vanishing into a world where permanence of cycles returns and repeats the refrains from humming rivers growing frail, until buds explode into leafy twirls sweeter than the scent of parsley on a fresh daylight…. icy, spicy, tangy. Birds tweet, to swivel back into ancestral nests much like us... wandering then yearning to kindle the fire and oil of sweet home. Somehow, seasons change… but our children’s dwellings and god ‘s grace do not. ............ 1/28/2016 For Cyndi Mac Millan's Contest FIVE PROOF: FREE VERSE THAT SHOWS IT AIN'T NO PROSE ...................... Literary devices: Assonance, Alliteration, Imagery, Mood, Synesthesia

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

''home of my childhood''

 ~~

my mind takes me back through the tattered pages of my life
                        to a place of warmth, security and love . . . . .
    
   to my mother's kitchen with its big cupboards and old stove
and a blue teapot on the kitchen table and grandma telling me of life
                                  of people in the family long dead . . .

it was at that same table that I read my first poems while sipping tea
     oh!  I recall father shovelling snow in winter all bundled up

and a warm fireplace waiting within . . .
                       then at night in an attic room this little girl was tucked in

                with forever loving hands, hugs and kisses . . .  .

_______________________________

January 24, 2015

Free Verse

Entered in the contest, Home Sweet Home, sponsor Skat

Third Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Shock and Awe, Coming Back Home

My friends come home draped in flags 
I pause at the edge of the airplane door
Facing a tunnel leading me to a muffled joy
Strangers tell me I am related to them...
I deny a woman with three kids... her kiss
My friends are slipping in trucks with flags
They are loaded and back doors explode shut...
..............................................................

I wake up in a trench of blood and clean pillows
The same woman from the airport next to me
 Peacefully breathing...and I thought she was dead...
I think I am finally home, fans are not propellers
Camouflage doesn't bear swing sets in backyards
My friends' helmets, guns and boots line up in my head
Patrolling with weapons made of aluminum foil
-------------------------------------------------

There is too much silence for a dead soldier walking...
I think I FEEL the kiss of the woman with three kids ...







Copyright © iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

I'll Be Home For Christmas

 
I'll be home for Christmas home is where you are It's where fluttering flakes fall like stars on my face It's where the scarlet bird sings and a yuletide shrub sways It's where these arms get wrapped in your tinselled embrace It's where the mistletoe waits for kisses to exchange in the old doorway's shade. I'll be home for Christmas home is where you are Its where a stocking gets filled from a candle bazaar Its where the dough gets baked in molds of two heart shapes to be placed in one cookie jar I'll be home for Christmas home is where you are It's where carols are sung to the beat of the drum It's where lights are strung around our front porch posts It's where endless stories of our childhood are told It's where dreams are made where my love for you grows I'll be home for Christmas home is where you are It's the butterflies inside when you look in my eyes It's the smile on your face when we all sit down to eat the meal you just made I'll be home for Christmas home is where you are and wherever you are it is never too far for these feet to walk streets for this love to come flooding your heart.

Copyright © Cupids Arrow | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

My India

Let me set something straight -
Right here, right now!
Let me put India in the right perspective,
Let me banish some myths,
Some gross misconceptions,
And take you beyond elephants,
Sacred cows, snake charmers and yoga,
Beyond Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Taj Mahal,
To a civilization rooted for
over 5,000 years in the past
To a land rich - majestically rich -
In many cultures, customs and traditions,
In a bewildering variety of races,
Religions, languages and folk arts,
In a vibrant tradition of dance and music,
In religious festivals and traditional events,
In saints, sadhus, gurus and sages,
In gods, goddesses, munis and mahatmas,
In temples, palaces, shrines and monasteries;

I'll baby-steps you through a land
Of Vedas and Upanishads,
Of epic stories and incredible mythologies,
Of Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita,
Through one of world's great spiritual sanctuaries,
Where religion is a way of life;

An overwhelming, complex land -
Its charm, its vitality and yes, its confusion,
Atonce alarming and enticing.
And that's the way India is:
Elusive, confusing, contradictory,
mysterious and exasperating!
Beyond easy description or analysis,
A phenomenal diversity of dress
and manners making one aware
of a different world -
A veritable fairyland!

No other country offers quite such
A spectacle of teeming masses that
continue to enrich the heritage of mankind,
Nowhere do the past and present
coexist in more colorful promiscuity -
An incomparable country,
Easy to love, hard to forget!

"There's only one India!" raved Mark Twain,
"A wonderland of fabulous wealth
and fabulous poverty, of splendor and rags ..."
"The cradle of the human race,
The birthplace of human speech,
The mother of history,
The grandmother of legend and
The great grandmother of tradition."

This, indeed, is my country
Where I was born - 
An Indian at heart,
An American in spirit!
Namaste!
Khuda Hafiz, Jai Ramji Ki,
OM Radhe Shyam, Sat Sri Akal,
Jai Hind!!

Copyright © Abdul Malik | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Priceless

Sun from the window, shines gold on the grain
with a faded patina that the new can't attain 
You have dusted my cobwebs, and polished my face
from the years I have witnessed, and people I've known
who have needed my presence to call it a home
 
There are stories to tell...since the day they unveiled me
Fine exquisite skills honed and carved to reveal me 
I was hiding in wood, and with the slight of their hands
my beauty was born in a far away land

A remnant of history, from a day long ago
You have restored me to life, to be worthy and new
While you dusted my bones, and shined clean my face
Did your reverie fall back to that magical place?

You will feel on your face, and I on my grain
Sun's warming reflection through window glass panes
Wherever you are, in an old world, or new...
I'll be worth every penny, but I'm priceless, to you
It will cost you a fortune..... How's a $million, or two?

......................................
3/11/16  Image #1  
For Contest: The Auctioneer
Sponsor: Mystic Rose

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

On Coming Home

 "Looking back at the Earth, I can't really describe how beautiful it is from 300 miles up. Looking down, you can tell it's a planet. The sky is black. There's just a thin blue ribbon, what we see as blue sky on Earth. You realize how small it is and how fragile the planet is."  - Astronaut Mike Good


All we are seeing around us is
utter            and            absolute
                Blackness
The image seared into our brains is
                 Desolation

a blanket of the densest darkest threads
                      through which 
           no light can seem to enter is
                           above us 
                                and
                              below us

At last   in the vast expanse    of nothingness
just a thin ribbon of blue     sublime and beautiful    comes into view
Our collective pulse quickens
                      Faint light can be seen!
The phrase            Hope springs eternal            is in my mind.

Our gloom is fading,
         for our home planet has already endured long past the point 
                                    when God first said
                                                                           Let there be light    


Written May 11, 2016
 for the "Just a Thin Blue Ribbon" Poetry contest of Rita A. Simmonds. 

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

In The Land 'O Green

Sun declines, beneath the emerald rim
And I'll be headin' home...
to a cottage in the moor lands 
with a fire to warm me' bones

The kettle of beans are boilin'
and some coals will bake me scones
I will rest my weary shoulders
And be glad for what I've seen

I've witnessed bracken turn so reddin'
like a wildfire on the mountain
And wee nanny goats on hillsides,
too many now, for countin'

Heather waves in summer breezes...
Granite stones, and bogs of grass,
water gleams like shining glass
and harshness blows for but a reason
to turn around the seasons
Thar' be wavin' sails upon the blue
And leafy shamrocks on the green 
Where rugged shores, and seagulls cry,
and pink skies capture me

Friendly folks be bearin' ruddy cheeks,
There's a colleen, fair thee lass
Who will tip our mug at village pub, 
And we'll make a toast to Patrick's kin
and order one more glass

Let me always sink me' Irish eyes  
upon the rugged land
Upon the skies, upon the streams, 
where druid legends live
Upon the grand home of the clan, 
where many roots began

Where the ole' pale moon at nightfall, 
scatters me memories all a'glowing
Of fair thee rose of old Tralee,
over garden trellis growin' 

Charming valleys, greener hillsides,
fill thee heart of all 'me clan
Pick ye' a shamrock.... look for gold, 
shake yer' hands with leprechauns
Kiss a Blarney stone in sweet Killarny, 
come to all that's home to me
Where names of O'Reily, or McDougal sprung
and the color green began

________________________________________________

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

My New Home

Threadbare, uninviting, almost claustrophobic,
And cold.  I could not afford heat.
I put on the lights and felt an icy solitude.
No home sweet home for me.
Would I get attuned to my new apartment?

Lonely, I ate my packed tasteless food quickly, 
changed into a cosy track suit, switched off the lights 
and went to bed hoping for pleasant elusive dreams.
Suddenly melodic tunes infiltrated my slumber.
I wake.  Upstairs someone must love old time songs.
Like a somnambulant I climb the stairs and knock. 
She was like a mirage, shimmering in the haze of a desert.
Silently she beckoned me inside the warm room.
My name is Angel, she whispered.  And the dance began,
Until tired, the haze of the desert enveloped me too.

Much later I woke.
I was in my bed.  Was it a dream?  Probably.
The landlord said the upper flat was empty still, 
But to be occupied that day,   Someone called Angel.
That night I did not sleep, but waited for the music to start.

16 June 2016

All poems placed 1

Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

The Evolution of Learning (Part One)

It amazes me how much man has evolved
Yet, How little he has learned
All around the globe
Millions die of disease and starvation
While the ever so intelligent creature known as man
Spends millions upon millions of dollars every single day
Killing each other
Instead of finding cures for the ill or feeding starving children
Oh sure, we dabble in those efforts
But we are committed to killing each other
Governments all around the globe
Spend most of their money
On their armies
Either to defend or attack
Their enemies
Supposedly, the most intelligent creature on earth
The intellectual creature known as man
If I may go so far
Mans commitment to war and killing
Goes far beyond any one mans term in office
It goes far beyond any one mans lifetime
It goes far beyond any century or any one era
From beginning to end, top to bottom
East to west, north to south
Red, yellow, brown, black or white 
Our commitment to killing each other
Is undeniable
How can a species that is smart enough to split atoms 
Creating weapons that will kill millions
Still be stupid enough to do it?
And now I see on the science channel
That man has now devised the Platonic beam
A beam of light that just disintegrates the target in an instant
At what price you ask?
Well I don’t know but I reckon if we diverted that money
To say solar energy projects
They could probably put a solar energy system
On every home in the world for free
Thus solving the energy crisis
Not to mention food in the icebox and medicine in the cabinet
Because of course when you create such an amazing new weapon
You need an entire new type of ship to deploy it from
Thus is born the next generation of war birds
They jettison into space 
Then go into super afterburner (A jet engine minus oxygen)
Which they said would reach like 20,000 miles an hour
So you could shoot halfway around the world
Disintegrate your enemy
And be home in time for supper
I believe when speaking of politics
It’s not a National Crisis
It’s a Global Epidemic

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |

Where I'm From

“Where I’m From”
I am from pliers
	from Tylenol and vanilla bean perfume.
I am from the budding rose bush,
	the aloe vera plant
	whose salve heals my burns.
I am from the tee-ball bat in the garage
	the ballet bar in the studio.
I am from princess pajamas and my favorite stuffed animal
	from sandy beaches and mountain views.
I’m from lessons learned and the hard way,
	from spankings and timeouts in my bedroom.
I’m from wood flooring and hazel eyes 
	and southern cooking grandmothers.
I’m from the brewing of sweet tea and
	the individual stitches on quilts.

From the “no no’s” and
	the land flowing with “milk and honey.”
I’m from early Sunday mornings,
	in a polk-a-dot dress and black patent shoes.
I’m from the foothills,
	green beans and heavily buttered cornbread.
From the crown and sash of Miss Catawba Valley
	the receding hairline of my father.
They are on the top shelf in my closet
a box of baby pictures and birthday cards.
It holds my memories, so that I may never forget
Where I’m from. 

Copyright © Anna Good | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

A homeless bride-w

I shall daily visit the beauty parlor
And make myself beautiful for you.
I shall never clean the house
So that my skin is not tarred.
I shall ever watch my figure,
Eating calorie less foods and drinks.

I shall stay home all day
And will never be stay at home mom
But will go for Disco at night.
I shall not take drugs
But a drink or two in limits.
I shall awake late in the morning
So that you are not disturbed.

I shall adorn the house to earn
Adjectives from the neighbours.
I shall buy the furniture to invent
Nouns to be told to the visitors.
Our house will be all pronouns
But will never admit verbs as
They shake the very foundation.

*** I wrote this poem much earlier noticing a young married woman of a modest family adopting the modern living going astray from the household chores *** Based on a real
person.

The poem was posted on 1/16/2007

========================
Dr. Ram Mehta

Tenth place win in:
Contest: Any Twisted Poem sponsored by Destroyer A Poet

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |

Bring my love home

She's dying over and
over 
From the insanity of
the missing 
The heart will
repair 
Though I wouldn't
dare say this
At the sky she
stares
Continuously
She says life must
go on
I must go on
she says

I don't want to be
without him 
As she opens the
second bottle of
vodka 
If I'd had a choice
I'd of gone with him
But I'd never wish
for him to ever feel

This crushing
feeling
Not for a instance

In the night she
thinks I'm sleeping
But I hear
everything

Dear God
I was wondering if I
could have a moment
of your time ?
I know your a busy
bloke and that,  
your tired with all
these voices
shouting up at you, 
I would be too.
But I thought I'd
give it a go.
I know your the
universal spirit and
there's  lots on
your mind, 
so I tell you what
I'll talk and you
can just listen, 
give me your views
at the end.

I was wondering if
you've looked in on
me lately
See God 
I'm feeling
incredibly unhappy, 
Distraught you could
say, 
miserably alone.
I know there's
millions, probably
billions 
I don't know the
average, 
but no matter.
I know there's
other's wanting your
attention,
The people dying
from cancer or 
The African village
women screaming for
you to stop the men
taking their kids, 
Putting them on
smack to fight there
twisted gorilla
wars.
Our boys in
Afghanistan getting
maimed and
slaughtered.

So firstly I was
wondering if it's
normal to feel this
way ?
You see I think of
him so much he
enters my dreams as
soon as I close my
eyes,
Is this your doing ?
Tell me what I have
to do to stop this
fog,
Tell me when I reach
the other side I'll
still be me,
Tell me it's ok to
still cry silently,
 without even
knowing,
Then, 
Tell me how to stop
the tears,
Tell me,  if this
ache in my chest
relieves,
Tell me,  I'm
standing this pain
to be with him
again,
Go on tell me ??!!!

I'm so alone I bet
you got all the
Angels up there
keeping you company,

Hay I thought they
were supposed to be
down here looking
after us ?
Point is, the real
point is
You got something of
mine and I want it
back.

I'm not blaming you,
well I am sort of, 
I think your a
really good bloke
but took too much
on,
We all do it now and
then don't we.
I mean the church
wrote your book
didn't it, 
It's really down to
Matthew , Mark ,
Luke, and John,
you should really
send them boys down
here,
I know a lot of
people who want a
word with them.
They're responsible
for war, 
Famine and mass
genocide,
Because be honest
all wars start at
religion one way or
another don't they.

I'm Sorry I've gone
off track,
What I was saying
is, 
my dad told me if
he'd of died when he
got kidney failure 
It's God's will.
Well if it's your
will, 
Do me a favour and
send my husband back

I wasn't finished
with him yet.

And if you can't do
that,
Tell him something
for me,
Tell him I love him,
But lie, say I'm ok.
Say I'm getting by,
I got sleeping
tablets off the doc,
Say I'm almost
happy.
Not to worry.
Tell him I'm rushing
towards death for
him,
That I've stocked up
on vodka.
God, tell him I'll
be there soon.










Copyright © little known nothing | Year Posted 2014