Free Will Poems - Poems about Free Will

Fountains sprinkle summer city rising steam spiral, wet dispersed and raucous shrieks from children, pavements, streets. lanes, byways imbued, with that June to September jubilance, jovial spirit goes beyond the urban confines yet included, the riot of revelry induced by that vim incited by this season, those are season smart relish the fragility of blissfulness, it vaporises, vanishes, veers into segments...

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Within my own axis, It did not slant It did not drizzle. The void shunned the grey clouds. Lightning was rare. Thunder turned mute. Leaf-tops shook with the sleepiness of Shameless drunks, casting ghoulish shades, Causing affrays among wild species. Rivulets rippled in hunger and in thirst, Circling firths with methodical anger and protests. The grass blades lost their verdancy and cringed. Within this place, The air was...

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I walked down the alleyways of London Early one edgy Friday evening. I am a touring, curious resident, mind you. The sun was shy and was sinking breathlessly and With the hushed melody of frazzled fog. I headed towards a snaky road, cobbled to fractured Heels and hills, and stumbled upon Oxford Street, famous for all manner of glitz And devoted heartbreaks. It was...

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Tattered by bad decisions, misdirected, unheard questions that remain answered. In a dilemma unequivocally side tracked by distorted thoughts that occupy one's mind in such a matter. On many occasions succumbed by blindspots, Yielded by one way symbols, directional lights. Illuminated calmly on one's voyage a mission of a shift . A changeover of uncertainty,...

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The October moon winked in the cover of midnight darkness and I saw love in her eyes —love she’s been doing her best to hide all this while — not minding the stroke of midnight when hearts pound loudest among those who keep vigil for love....

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Have you read the note? It speaks of the doom of the liquid element. An inclement weather, grey, and with the fuss of a bleached lightning, Besieges the tick of the clock. Must have been a bland Sunday, which retreated From the temerity of old wine, Haunted by the lonesome refrains of exhausted hymns. The belfry yawned loosely.... But quiet crept in like...

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If every cloud had a Silver Lining... If lightning were only illumination... and our story together had a happy ending -- then, I would write, only Happy Faces. But, pencil points break a tear marks a page indelible will not accept a word, tears with every new impression attempted -- I read a poem, a little while ago; a sad poem...and your memory returned -- A grave is so...

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I am tired with the word what do you do for a living A question whose answer will take you away from me Because I am not productive enough Yes I have not collected much stones recently Like penguins do on an island But they collect one or two just for fun All you do is work, work And yes you are...

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Woman is a hole, Soft with spongey walls, Press the button, make her howl, Crash through her virgin halls. A newborn baby, little girl Fresh kitchen rag to store Waiting ignorant of the day When she too will be soiled Decades later, kitchen rags, Sit discarded in a bin, A loony bin for hags to talk, And squeeze out salty...

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The chessboard stretches, black and white, Too many pawns crowd every fight. Resources dwindle, tempers flare, Too many hands grasp thinning air. The planners meet in silent halls, Their charts and graphs like ancient walls. They speak in terms both cold and clean— "Efficient means," not "cruel" or "mean." A gentle nudge, a softened blow, Less birth, less war, more death below. No famines loud,...

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A Directional Curse The first time I heard “Go to hell.” where it seemed not just an aimless curse but a direction. The empty soul in bright orange; couldn’t miss him, but they aim to. No emotions, just a fly on the wall on sticky tape. He can’t escape the familys’ words - they will be heard. One father moved the lectern to face the beast, to chastise him to his face. One mother preached with scripture...

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Idyllic Hudson Valley, New York …Lord of Rings’ shire. A vineyard, filled with rich and famous names. I’m pleased to be impressed by the artists, as they surrender idyllic charm with paint. Emerald green; delicious apple bites, wind chimes through the pines, mountains of Catskill. The headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow - to drink, deep, the forests of Van Winkle. Freedom fostered in cobblestone...

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… Disperazione. Questa conosciuta. Piovra, s’avventa! Tentacoli. Strade. Nessuna corretta. … Dio. Questo conosciuto. Faro, acceca! Raggio. Sentiero. Occlusa la meta. … Alcol. Questo conosciuto. Sedativo, addormenta! Ebbrezza. Sosta. Tutto si ferma. … Il sogno. Questo conosciuto. Preservativo, attenua! Risveglio. Partenza. Verso la Belva. … ...

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Only a Heart A heart. Loved you. Remember? The train Sometimes the time is evil. This was our time Didn’t get born to you. Why? You loving you Killed time. It’s already far away. Yes. Faraway This life. Those lives. Silver time. Our lives Passed. A distant shred. Needed. Growth Can’t. Those lives are crumbling. Leaving you Gone far. All. Stayed the sad...

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Walking towards the 'river' Christ is about to deliver my 'old nature.' I remember His context.' When John 'baptized' Him I walk into the water, giving thanks to God For this 'quarter' in my life My head gets bowed in the water I thank God that my 'old man' receives A slaughter, I'm filled with laughter Because I have a 'new' nature The old man...

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