Free Poems - Poems about Free

Every night Sea rises at high tide His waves are like warm frothy fingers caressing Moon's golden glow on the shore It's a game they play with ebb and flow Hide and seek. She has a flirtacious streak when shrouding herself behind a veil of clouds Eternal lovers who share intimate moments romantic thoughts ~ nothing...

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The ceiling blinked first—it told me I was looking up too much, time laughed in a corner, counting backwards just to mock me, my shadow packed its bags and left a sticky note: "You're thinking too hard. I need air." The fan above spun secrets, whispering in Morse code, I'm not sure if it cursed me or told me the...

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In the liquid sanctuary of silent noons, where steam rises to the sky like an unfulfilled dream, we meet in the dance of waters, two spirits swaying under the warm curtain, her hands, springs of tenderness, flow over me like an ancient promise, each touch is a verse etched on my skin, a poem written in whispers, she commands...

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In the deep silence of thoughts, where the poet's soul flutters like a butterfly caught in winds, He carves his path through the shadows of a culture that swallows him, relentless, unforgiving, A son of words, a bastion of verse that refuses to be shaped by the hands of time, He stands before the storm, bare-chested, unwavering, seeking...

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In the depths of dreams, our story weaves like a tapestry of stars, She looks at me, and I feel myself melting like a glacier under the scorching August sun, Her laughter is an echo of bells in the air, filling my chest with a symphony of sweet pain, She reveals the hidden realms of her soul to...

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He runs, not to win, But to escape the silence that haunts him, A hum that's too loud On the path that no one knows about. He runs and goes Without a globe. People he left, they all mourn. Yet still he goes through breaking dawn, Running from the shadows that dwelled in his lawn. The line of time that cut his throat, The same...

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To understand me is to walk on a path of thorns hidden beneath velvet, where the scent of roses deceives the lungs with sweet illusions, while blood silently drips into the earth that swallows untold stories. I do not wish to be deciphered; I am merely an enigma mercilessly absorbing your fragile understanding, leaving only shadows to dance on...

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Side Bar You Don't Appreciate What You Don't Have If You Don't Have It. Did I Say That Right? Whatever. Something Like That. Who Cares? -Gray Squirrel 05-01-2025...

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He once stood at the top of the line Watching the sun creeping out from behind Hew wals with courage in his boot, and he just Know how to shoot, he did everything Perfectly well and he was good at making new friend But since he left the lion’s den he was never himself again. Com let me tell you...

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As I sat and watched the sun this morning, rise It made me realize There were children waving "Bye" To the blue birds in the sky When I sat and watched the sun this morning, rise The blue birds flapped their wings And the children on their swings It made me realize That children are...

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Free Will Maybe No Matter How Bad It Itches, You Don't Hafta Scratch. Seriously? -Gray Squirrel 05-01-2025...

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Travel is not a right But a privilege, thus spoke Zarathustra In his most late incarnation Travelling is tied with applying But it’s more than ridiculous to ask for privileges. Especially since the answer is known. Zarathustra's commodity is hate I'm not tempted to support his drama Let those who agree to pay Have the privilege. Though, according to Zarathustra's logic The right to...

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the first crush after a breakup is hard. I keep seeing images of you in him and I'm scared my past is repeating. I probably won't act on it. It is nice to be out of my pit though. my pit of loneliness, because now I have a reason to wake up. I have a reason to put on...

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when I miss you, I don't think about the good times. I don't think about all those hours I spent talking to and thinking about you. I don't think about all those jokes and laughs and stories. I don't think about all those poems I wrote about you. I don't think about all of those songs that reminded me of...

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when old people talk about their past loves they don't talk about what it was like when their love left. they don't talk about the feeling the next morning when all you want to do is call. they don't talk about how the first week is hell. they don't talk about how every part of you wants to go...

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