Best Verse Poems

INDIAN INK

Indian Accent, form the whispers inside
Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices fall from the sky,  rising hymns release 
   ancient demons CLINGING to the...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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genius?
sometimes you are in its minimal spotted light...sometimes!
other times you just know you've been touched and you freeze,
moved but frozen...like a stranger it moves in, does its work and leaves.

...maybe it's been a while since you two spoke...
when the dead sea still hosted life,
the hanging...

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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...

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Pink and perfect mystery 
to which I ply my finger, 
she ripens so exquisitely
the longer that I linger

and fluff the modest blossom
with my gentle loving hand,
teasing, ever pleasing
so that now I understand

how beautiful the flower
that yields without duress,
blooming now so fully
in the warmth of my...

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On a special Suicidal Night,
I sit alone inside this nightmare 
In a nightmare with no windows 
Nobody can see me
I can see nobody

Flowers, above
My eyes have darkened to a color never seen before
Forever closed!
 
It Rains!  It Rains!

Beyond this ocean, I've drowned too many...

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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...

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Dwell not, O soul, on yesterday, 
  on sorrows past and gone -
the sketch you drew so long ago, 
  today may be redrawn.
Dwell not upon tomorrow's wars, 
  nor borrow from their pain -
that energy you need today 
  let...

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~Alice Sweet Alice~

        *Like Sisters*
   Everyday -- Holding Hands 
Sunday Dress -- Pink Ribbons
         *Alice And I*


How can they say she did not exist?
This Sweet Girl I Named...

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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...

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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...

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