Best Free Verse Poems
Broken People
I wish to be with the broken people.
The get in your face challenge me people. The sometimes hidden sitting in a dark corner kinda people.
The “Don't you love me?”
I wish you seen me sorta people.
People just being real people.
Not having to have it all together people. Them doing their best to figure it out people. Dancing and singing without the smooth moves people.
I don't care about the color of their skin, or what others think of as their sin. No need to be perfect to win.
Seeing and listening is where I'll begin. Beyond appearance of fat or thin. I only know what I know
I've never been where they've been.
We'll start
with our broken smiles
it's the best we've got.
It might seem like so little
still I think it's a lot.
Through life's struggles we've all fought. Lessons needed learning
experienced not taught.
Real is real it couldn't be bought.
So forget the fake people,
the all about perfect hair and clothes people. The I live in the right neighborhood and drive the right car people. It's all about me, top of the hill people. They only hang out with the supremely cool people.
those too important to talk to me people. Thinking they're the best of the best kinda people, when all along they are merely Sheeple.
Ba ba baaing, thinking they are strong instead of feeble.
I love characters
people who are unique.
I look under exteriors to gain a peek.
Strength of lions disguised in meek.
Unconcerned with fab or being chic.
Worth listening to if allowed to speak.
The stories they tell will make your eyes leak.
For in the end
we are all broken
stumbling and choking.
Disguising hurt with our joking,
victims of others and their poking.
So look close maybe you'll see
eyes that aren't blank
hearts that aren't empty.
Who we think of as complicated
in the end might not be.
They might push when others come close,yet they are affectionate times three. Each just a bit afraid and broken. All the while wishing
and wanting to be a part of something. If only we choose to see
those on the fringes are a part of the we. All we have to do is let them be.
I play like a girl, I hit like a girl
You say I throw like a girl,
And when I run -- I run like a girl!
All that plus more, enjoy this one-size-fits-all
Who and what I want comes from being strong
Classy and fabulous, this is my song!
I've been told, cut to size
The world is dark and gray when life becomes an insult
Take heed when I speak my mind,
I am tough, outstanding, and beautiful!
Move ahead --- say it twice, I smell nice
A taste of Cool Water and Justice Perfume
I have a non-stop multitask fixation
As a woman, everything about me is hidden
Magic and alluring are the only joy you'll need
I'm empowered at this moment!
Endorsing Myself, with a certain sorta mystique
I deliver an independent will,
Don't ever underestimate my physique
I am a caregiver, a female who won't give up the fight
I remain firm and believe all women have equal rights
I walk and talk Like A Girl
Wearing heels breaking the sounds of Wedding Bells
I am, Mona's unforgettable smile, standing tall Like Miss Liberty
I am, Betsy America's #1 designer, I am you and full of life.
The sound in your eyes isn't listening!
You imagine I am weak -- not strong enough -- brave enough,
You call me different and difficult!
Still, you want my warmth -- my love -- my attention
I am not less, I am more
I am a woman -- I frown -- I cry -- I hurt and yell at the universe
Nevertheless, I make a difference, like a girl, I smile
A smile, never seen or felt before, both defined and undefined
Your heart will ask and implore for more
Like a girl, I'll drive you wild, looking pretty "You're In Love!"
My Self-confidence comes from who I am deep inside
Everything I've become follows the makeup on my face
Bare and nude, I am the Madonna flowering the mood
At the end of every day, I have one other thing to say
The Next Time You ask me to cook and clean
Because you think, I belong in the kitchen
You better believe I'm doing it my way
LIKE A GIRL
Like an interrupted dream
shadows of the one
who inspired it
linger like morning dew.
No aroma and no taste,
yet I'm left breathless,
as thoughts reminisce.
I listen to this tired heart,
as one deep breath results
in a thousand sighs and
I don't want to be found,
but yearn to understand
why I feel like a million
crumpled stars, silently
sprinkled like paint drops
protecting the moon,
feeling like glue holding
the universe together
and who am I to disturb it?
Her beauty was a merited gift.
Her departure unnecessary.
Her lips without speaking
could rewrite history
and I wonder
can she hear these sighs?
Her call is the one I want
to answer for eternity.
To speak until no words remain.
Give until there is nothing -
submitting to her submission
is life's greatest victory.
Twilight aurora,
night flower of this heart,
you shine in emerald velvet
hues in shades of scarlet.
Like a rainbow, your presence
brightened the horizons.
but just like the stars you
disappeared with daylight -
your absence leaving
behind blackness.
Upon the wind sheltered hillside,
the sharp tang of metal and the sting of salt air lay
over a field of blood-red poppies, no Flanders Field.
At years fall, fields of rape roll like waves,
in the harshness of winter-sleet, stray boulders bow,
like the backs of mothers, and daughters sowing.
Their nails torn, ragged, and bleeding.
They bleed by the moon, and son, upon the fields.
No white crosses mark their passing.
For hundreds of years, and crops of rape, barley and wheat,
small hands, soft hands, and soft thighs bleed.
They bleed daughters, and sons.
They birth the fields by consent or rape and in the fields
unadorned by silver stars or purple hearts, they writhe.
Today, as May's sun wakes the blood blasted pasture,
each precious drop blooms, a heroines soul
acknowledgement, the poppies yield.
listen,
the whispers
of leaves
turn colour
autumn is here.
now that you are gone
who will wake every morn
to lift the sun
unveil the sky
etch in the clouds
who will paint the rainbow?
i had a dream and in the dream i wove you a poem
i used the fiber of my character to create spools of silken thread
dipped in the juices of my passion i dyed them in the colors of my imagination
re-enforced each and every single strand with the strength of my love
touch,
the echoes
of the rain
- waters
- blossoms spring.
now that 'us' is just a word
no longer with you as one
i alone wind up metal toys
cut out paper dolls
the beach swept from under my feet
the child in me flees.
spun spools from the intricacy of my spirit
designed a pattern
to the rhythm
of the music
of my inner thoughts
enamoured in your vision
crystal beads gather on my brow
as i toil your finely bred gift
as i braid every part of me
with every memory
into every sliver of fabric
taste,
uncut
snow shapes
crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
instead now rusted
a fools gold chain of loneliness
hangs around my neck like a noose
mourns a union that once had breath
a twosome that now is dead.
see,
the sand sculptures
paint
rekindle
a childhood summer
past.
sew in the loving glow emits my flawless dreams
with my boiling blood initial my woven piece
my work at an end i awake
you lay there a wingless angel asleep
smiling as if you heard a bell ring
your boundless warmth embraces me
the moon no longer smiles
the stars no longer wink
smell,
seasonal airs
stimulates senses
memories they deliver.
without a touch
barely - i kiss you.
in this
my decade of one
hope is a wickless candle
the night just day without light
in the glee,
hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
magnificent
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
the melody of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Jan 4 2017
With Love
Armand
Some of us are secretive at first. We hide our poetry’s soul self,
gently letting her peep out; sometimes regretting it immediately.
Fearful of critiques from people who do not understand that poetry
is something we are compelled and born to do with our feelings.
Your diary entries may form themselves into goodness or badness
before you realize your calling as a poet.
Truths shockingly ooze out, surprising you.
Feelings creep out onto a page, in loud angry letters,
or romantic feelings daintily brush onto a crisp lined page
in the form of sweetness and light.
You are a word player, because you cannot
stop this obsession, but it does not define you.
This poetry gig is but a glimmer of a glimpse of yourself.
You might be a caregiver, or a wonderful friend.
People who count on your smile every day may not realize
you have a love affair with words, and an obsession to write them.
We are each a unique jewel, mined from God’s mind.
Poetry may initiate a whisper of a tiny facet of ourselves,
but our secrets are safe. We not merely poets. We are lovers
of life, and words. Most importantly, we remain gloriously hidden
and unknown to most.
Written 12-20-18 Contest: You Are Not Defined by Poetry
Sponsor: John Hamilton
In the middle of winter
within misty moors,
lies a melancholic meadow.
Up above grey skies foretell
perturbed crows to seek shelter.
Down below,
an isolated tree - naked and fatigued;
Listens in silence.
Her soul is wounded,
but you do not see her blood.
Defiant against dysfunctional adversity,
her roots are stronger than an anchor.
Diversifying in deep directions,
kissing the mouth of the Earth.
Her torso may seem tall and mighty,
but her appearance deceives.
Sins of mankind have exposed her sap,
as bark beetles crumble the surface.
Forceful winds and bullet rain blasts
against her weary teary face.
Her tame frame trembles,
as naked broken branches are
blown away by brutal gusts.
It is just another battle for life,
as birds leave her behind - suffocating.
Raindrops stream down her body,
creating puddles of sadness,
soaking deep into her roots.
In the middle of winter
within misty moors,
lies a melancholic meadow;
where a tree yearns for Spring.
To bloom prosperously
and to bathe in sunshine -
so departed birds return.
Silent One
20 February 2018
October: I'm eighteen, shortcutting home
through an autumn-burnished churchyard -
copper-lustred leaves, moss-skinned stone -
a jaunty swing of skater skirt and arm,
college folder square-sturdy in my hand.
In the moment. In the last pale pulse of sun.
Hey, can you tell me...?
I halt. I turn...
Cold earth. Colder blade dimpling my skin.
My coral cameo earrings scatter,
daisy-dotting the green.
My back is spiked by needles of yews.
Sun skews, sky side-slides
until his face is the firmament.
I'm staring into the tumid blank-bloat of blue;
the ground hardening beneath me,
the death-spike trees stiffening.
Heavy Special Brew breaths.
Grubby, moist fingers
like grubs crawling over my breasts,
and, weirdly, I'm smelling pepper -
horror-spice of pungent lust,
its acrid nose-thrust -
and woodsmoke is drifting from somewhere...
lung-flame, tongue-flames
of searing words - his words -
blazing like the umber tumbling leaves.
Please...Please...I'll...
Fear-forced bargaining, but I'm beyond care.
And I'm aware
of the church steeple rising,
its phallus penetrating sky.
The tilting church could topple
as tears crystal-crush in my eyes.
Fear-faint, already half gone
in a soundless scream, my muted mouth
mouths silent goodbyes
to Sarah, to Mum.
Time slows to a crawl.
I try to call. Nobody comes
but the man who has me ground-pinned.
Bleachy stink of semen
whitening my ripped skater skirt,
but some things don't fade
and there is no clean in this, just dirt,
wet leaf-mulch, shame.
Ineradicable hurt.
Sacred soil is soiled, sullied.
Stunned, I stumble
shoeless, knickerless,
into the trees and heave
into the mud, into the leaves
strings of spittle-sick,
my thoughts strung out,
reality spun out.
From stinking, pulped leaves I retrieve
crushed coral earrings,
ground-grimy knickers,
my white court shoes
that whitely scream the 90s,
the scattered tatters of essays -
white, like fallen feathers, sunk in the sludge,
muddied, the red-inked words bloodied.
I gather them together.
Gather myself.
I go
forward into my future, stained from pain
and tainted touch, the smears of fear, self-disgust.
And oozing slime-soft into my ears
the mire of incongruous apology: I'm sorry
don't tell anyone - I won't.
I don't.
Silently, I sat by,
To listen to the sounds of the world,
Of all the voices that touched me most,
Were those caught in the angelic wind,
For all things have a voice,
And the voice for all things
speaks through the wind,
So, silently I sat and listened.
With the salty taste of a tear
As it touched my upper lip,
A smile appeared.
All the while the wind kept blowing,
Secret after secret, revealing to me,
If only I could comprehend its wisdom.
But that is half the allure,
Happy I am just to hear it blow,
And acknowledge its influence over my spirit.
The wind has taught me many things,
Though, I cannot speak for the wind,
Instead, let it speak for me.
Oceans apart
buried under sandy shores,
a rare pearl slept comfortably
behind her walls.
Fate must have been kind,
for a common man like me,
to stumble upon her shell.
As I brushed away her debris,
astonished - my eyes could not believe
this beauty, revealed before me.
Spellbound - I could not help but stare,
stunned by the glory of her magnificence.
As she took one step forward,
unutterable sensations,
took a hold of my emotions.
Yet I remained motionless,
overmastered by this
majestic heavenly vision.
And I could have sworn it was a dream,
until the softness of her fingertips,
graced the imperfections of my soul,
and for the first time it felt perfect.
All of a sudden it felt like we were floating,
ascending towards a myriad of stars,
with the moon guarding us silently.
Stardust sprinkled with the sight of her smile -
how fortunate was I, to celebrate this artistry.
Her lips blossomed like flowers
as they succulently caressed mine.
Breathless,
without saying a word her eyes acknowledged
my vow for eternal devotion with ever lasting love.
Simple Musings
Silent One
19 September 2017
"Mine all Mine!"
A thief I long to be
Your eyes original like the moon and sea
A lover in the world............
An Anthology, you walk and talk like the word "AMOR."
The words you send, I nicely tuck under my pillow
Every note every line you left behind
I memorized till they became all mine
Word-for-word,
Unauthorized I scrape the concrete calluses off the tongue
Pirating the perfect dramatic monolog look,
Basking through the passage around your Bio,
Lost in the musky scent -around the sonnet of your aura light
Epic enough, I reach inside to feel every idyllic rhyme
A strong iambic meter curse, conjuring up the perfect verse
In you I lift a copy paste from your lips,
No need to credit the sources in your bliss
The sweetest undamaged sensual memorandum book
A moment I stole and sealed without copyright proof
My dearest Poet,
When you move across the room
I see a thousand arrows that follow from behind,
Indulged when you speak and point out a verse per verse
I am a victim pampered by your words,
Sponging every line, adding them to my crib notes
Improved wordplay that infringed my everyday diary
A haiku so tangible, it sets the perfect images in my dream,
Hypnotize after I read your first love poem
A printed feeling--
Borrowed from the sun
pd
-Escape of the mountain-
Do you care about my breast?
The new curve - countryside corset
The beauty of every summer dress
Laying down, wearing out gravity
Embracing the same feeling;
Your hands indulged in
Passion and devotion
around perfumed scenery
The perfect pair
Today we will pray,
Counting every second on the clock
No longer the womanly figure before'
I will possess a new battle,
around the virtues of my palace.
Will you still be there,
when the hump and lump are gone?
Will I still be the queen of your heart?
Patiently I shall wait and see
in hopes to gain the time breast cancer stole
Leaving behind torn tissue, with a daily reminder of;
The one that got away.
Sunlight rains upon my face
Cascading memories cloaked in mystery
Kissing my eyelids
Ancient teardrops glide down my cheeks
Warmth illuminating my hungry soul
A sense of calm
A pulsating ellipse emerges before me
I dive into the magenta abyss
Releasing my wounded heart from its cage
Fear resides
Primal vibrations guide me
Becoming one with galaxies and starlight
My limbs relax
I flow ~ I undulate
I swim in the warmth of the universe
Time and space have become me and I them
Perched on a massive salt-stained boulder
Gazing towards the briny distance
Shades of White
A passionate brushstroke across the horizon
Sky and sea in a lover’s embrace
Caw .... caw ..... caw....
I feel you beckon me
Swallowing the sweet pit of truth
Nudged by a warm gust
I look down seeing the bundle
cradled in my arms
Your endless gaze speaks lifetimes of wisdom
Birth, struggle, bliss, challenge, and death
I watch you intently readying yourself
to pounce upon your unsuspecting prey
Riding this timeline of life
Together as one
Tick tock
Forward backward
Inward to the beating center of creation
Young one I see your sage reflection
In my gilded hand mirror
Me here and you there
Your smiling eyes
Tearing at my core
Come float with me
In sheer turquoise splendor
Adorned with seaweed crowns and abalone jewels
Rays of light penetrate the watery depths
Colonies of majestic stingrays hover nearby
Welcoming us to join their scared dance forevermore
if my love for you was any greater
the trees would line up in poetic forms
...awe you in sonnets written...
...part...to allow winds to cool your face...
to trace it with nature’s hand.
all the oxygen that covers all the waters rise,
supercharge the breadth of my emotion.
mountains would melt, shed their peaks like tears of joy.
even the arid deserts serve up fruits,
their prickly pears peeled on a platter.
sunset would pause and sunrise hurry...
...exist in a paradox to herald your presence.
petals would climb their stems
regroup to bloom again.
butterflies re-cocoon
emerge as glorious fairies
for all children to adore.
the skies would willingly
shape, etch, paint,
frame my exuberance.
the planet would swell,
the galaxies expand.
in the endless depth
of my singular love
i hold you dear,
safely contain you
in my admiring smile,
for now,
forevermore.
16~10~2014
Armand Hamouth
your labored breathing
called out to me
and in my soul I knew
what needed to be done
I reached for the drum
to summon the spirits
called out to ancestors
and anyone who’d listen
gently tapping to the rhythm
of our beating hearts
united as one in a prayer
released to the universe
filled the silence of
your labored breathing
drumming for hours
till the pleading was done
everything had been said
the prayer consummated
left in the hands
of the universe to respond
then it did in no uncertain terms
in an exorcism of sorts
draining the passages
to free your breathing
and so it was
in tune with the universe
the healing power
of the drum
Read on air by invitation ~ February 11, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
Read on KPBX called Poetry Moment by Kara Bowman 2022 [karabowman.com and griefpoetry.com]
AP: 2nd place 2022, 2nd place 2021, 3rd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on June 13, 2025 for contest YOUR BEST AUDIO POEM sponsored by TOM WOODY - RANKED 2ND
and on May 28, 2021 for contest ALL YOURS (MAY 29) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST