Fear Free Verse Poems

the Voice of a Shadowed Engineer

They speak of missiles,
as if war is still waged with fire.
But in the hush of midnight laboratories,
beneath the quartz veins...

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Spirit of Peace

in my spirit, where I sometimes see
beyond the darkness, beneath the grief
there lives a hope, a light, His love
comforting, guiding, reminding me
that whatever...

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Light falls across the meadows,
reflecting the gentlest shades of majestic
avocado and olive and jade, all the greens
melting through the shadows, 
caressing the endless melodies of...

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A mind, a quiet room, suddenly
the door bursts open, uninvited guests
with muddy boots, tracking dread
across the clean carpet of my peace.

They whisper, sharp as glass...

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after Berck-Plage, by Sylvia Plath

(1)

A sheet of glass, this expanse of water.
How its tranquillity mocks my unrest.

Bloated beachballs and balloons
travel the park and float from...

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You condemn me from shadows you've never dared to leave,  
Crafting judgment from fragments you refuse to believe.  
I wear your scorn like...

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If you go away, and my heart breaks

Weeping, for the moments
We spent in the light of the morning
Whispering our dreams, our hearts – memories
Weeping, for...

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Eye to eye
In the mirror what do they hide
So scared of what lies ahead 
So engulfed in regret
Eyes blue as sky
Always so dark
Fragile in a...

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O Donald Trump, your crown was earned
By chants of hope from those who yearned.
They dreamed you'd end the endless fight,
And lead them from the dying...

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American Psychosis
The sun, the Son,

ECLIPSED 
Overshadowed by
Dark clouds of 
Bloated EGO and ID
Me supersedes We
The people1
Will weep

 DEADLY SINS
 More than seven
In one
Narcissist ‘king’ of
WRATH,...

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The Truth
The way I feel
For years our love was a thought
No true nor false
Lies the whole time
Love wasn’t there
You cheated everywhere
We had two different storms
Your...

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mirrors take on a new life at night
when the lights go out and the house gets dark
spirits are attracted to the silence
they tiptoe to the...

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On Friday nights we’d sneak into
the railyard and wait
in the shadows 
between the floodlights for a train
slow enough for us to hop,
our hands already tingling
with...

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I rub my neck 
My fingers find something hard  
I press hard again
...

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—A Poem for the Reckoning

You rulers of cold castles,
With pens that write in blood—
You sail on seas of sorrow,
Feeding empires with the mud
Of broken nations,...

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