Long Free form Poems
Long Free form Poems. Below are the most popular long Free form by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Free form poems by poem length and keyword.
LUNAR MADNESS
His thought; desire; that driving dream he knew;
so real within his heart and living soul;
the thing he took and fed until it grew,
into the part of life that made him whole;
by doing things that people seldom do
to make it real, and reach his cherished goal!
For who but fools, whose minds are now in tune,
would take a thought, and bounce it off the moon?
If given wings; by one who's gone insane
with lunar madness, loose in universe;
his wish for life would search each hidden plane,
and seek more levels where he might immerse
in pools of knowledge, cleansing every stain,
bleached on his mind by times eternal curse!
And damp with truth, before his mind can rust,
he dries in clouds of flowing cosmic dust!
His world is silent, everywhere he goes,
and dreams he holds so dear, stare silently,
at passersby, who greet him, but he shows,
no recognition to the ones who'd be
some of the ones to take the truth he knows,
and bring him back from where he's flying free!
But don't know how to reach this paranoid,
nor find the things that make his feelings void.
It's plain for them to see, he's not all there,
but lunar madness doesn't cross their minds,
and ships of soul, don't take them anywhere;
perhaps too busy with their daily grinds
to think of flying free form any care,
and seeking many worlds of other kinds!
That he has found by leaving body still,
protected by his knowing mind, and will.
He'll watch the pouring rain, and snowflakes fall,
and bolts that light the sky, in summer storm,
to see the wisdom theree within them all,
as puzzles come together and to form
a tool to shatter down his prison wall,
that's kept him from a life that's soft and warm!
But as he sees the things before his eyes,
the other part of him still seeks, and flies
so free of chains that bind him far below;
the part behind, that's waiting for the end;
or waiting for the wisdom he will know,
return of one, his kind and loving friend;
that once set free, would only come and go,
far from the one who let it first ascend!
Not knowing once he set their powers free,
that lunar madness plagues him, constantly.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
LUNAR MADNESS
His thought; desire; that driving dream he knew;
so real within his heart and living soul;
the thing he took and fed until it grew,
into the part of life that made him whole;
by doing things that people seldom do
to make it real, and reach his cherished goal!
For who but fools, whose minds are now in tune,
would take a thought, and bounce it off the moon?
If given wings; by one who's gone insane
with lunar madness, loose in universe;
his wish for life would search each hidden plane,
and seek more levels where he might immerse
in pools of knowledge, cleansing every stain,
bleached on his mind by times eternal curse!
And damp with truth, before his mind can rust,
he dries in clouds of flowing cosmic dust!
His world is silent, everywhere he goes,
and dreams he holds so dear, stare silently,
at passersby, who greet him, but he shows,
no recognition to the ones who'd be
some of the ones to take the truth he knows,
and bring him back from where he's flying free!
But don't know how to reach this paranoid,
nor find the things that make his feelings void.
It's plain for them to see, he's not all there,
but lunar madness doesn't cross their minds,
and ships of soul, don't take them anywhere;
perhaps too busy with their daily grinds
to think of flying free form any care,
and seeking many worlds of other kinds!
That he has found by leaving body still,
protected by his knowing mind, and will.
He'll watch the pouring rain, and snowflakes fall,
and bolts that light the sky, in summer storm,
to see the wisdom there within them all,
as puzzles come together and to form
a tool to shatter down his prison wall,
that's kept him from a life that's soft and warm!
But as he sees the things before his eyes,
the other part of him still seeks, and flies
so free of chains that bind him far below;
the part behind, that's waiting for the end;
or waiting for the wisdom he will know,
return of one, his kind and loving friend;
that once set free, would only come and go,
far from the one who let it first ascend!
Not knowing once he set their powers free,
that lunar madness plagues him, constantly.
LUNAR MADNESS
His thought; desire; that driving dream he knew;
so real within his heart and living soul;
the thing he took and fed until it grew,
into the part of life that made him whole;
by doing things that people seldom do
to make it real, and reach his cherished goal!
For who but fools, whose minds are now in tune,
would take a thought, and bounce it off the moon?
If given wings; by one who's gone insane
with lunar madness, loose in universe;
his wish for life would search each hidden plane,
and seek more levels where he might immerse
in pools of knowledge, cleansing every stain,
bleached on his mind by times eternal curse!
And damp with truth, before his mind can rust,
he dries in clouds of flowing cosmic dust!
His world is silent, everywhere he goes,
and dreams he holds so dear, stare silently,
at passersby, who greet him, but he shows,
no recognition to the ones who'd be
some of the ones to take the truth he knows,
and bring him back from where he's flying free!
But don't know how to reach this paranoid,
nor find the things that make his feelings void.
It's plain for them to see, he's not all there,
but lunar madness doesn't cross their minds,
and ships of soul, don't take them anywhere;
perhaps too busy with their daily grinds
to think of flying free form any care,
and seeking many worlds of other kinds!
That he has found by leaving body still,
protected by his knowing mind, and will.
He'll watch the pouring rain, and snowflakes fall,
and bolts that light the sky, in summer storm,
to see the wisdom theree within them all,
as puzzles come together and to form
a tool to shatter down his prison wall,
that's kept him from a life that's soft and warm!
But as he sees the things before his eyes,
the other part of him still seeks, and flies
so free of chains that bind him far below;
the part behind, that's waiting for the end;
or waiting for the wisdom he will know,
return of one, his kind and loving friend;
that once set free, would only come and go,
far from the one who let it first ascend!
Not knowing once he set their powers free,
that lunar madness plagues him, constantly.
© ron wilson
I had 800 hits on my site just last Friday
But twenty-nine poems reported as read!
So, I wonder what message was really intended,
My verse that explosive in somebody's head?
In years past PH (1) friend who was also a poet,
Egyptian named Merov (who knows, what is true?)
Well, he promised to put me on top of the ratings,
I told him, "No thank you!" what else could I do?
The best poets should rise if it's fate with their muses,
Just one of its flaws that few folks here discern,
But at PH the staff treat all poets like children,
They stop with the basics, play games, and aid spurn!
The real key to high ratings on PH is social,
“I’ll comment and rate yours (if you do the same!)”
Though our poems innocuous both get high ratings
That pull in more readers (you all know your name!)
Heartfelt comments I think are the best one can hope for
A ten out of ten may sound good but says less,
Any fool can give 'tens,' but a friend shares their feelings
Some barter for fame that no heart would confess!
Is it right to deny poets power to format,
To place words on pages as muse tells them to?
E. E. Cummings dismissed as a bull in a tea shop,
And all free-form verse relegated to zoo?
So was Merov the troll that once doctored friend's ratings?
Still, website's designed so a fool can deface? (2)
Just use multiple names, for there's no adult checking,
Then play with your site, let sick pride map your space!
Brian Johnston
14th of October 2018
Poet's Notes:
(1) PH stands for the PoemHunter.com website where I also publish my work. The criticism of formating problems also applies to PoetrySoup! I am grateful that PoetrySoup dropped numerical grading some time back. But I think for PoetrySoup to have a most read poem feature that included the sites most popular poems would be nice!
(2) Again just on PoemHunter you can create multiple login ID's which allows you to give yourself fake poem scores and to comment your own poetry. Again PoetrySoup wisely avoids such problems with a minimal charge! Restrictions here on comment space are the worst "Feature!"
Soul Sanctuary
Wandering through a moveable museum of memories columnar
Dusting off exhibits of moments held fast in watercolors gossamer
Milestones chiseled into fleeting moments of atonement,
Soft edges of first love painted in golden moments –
Brushing aside gauzy cobwebs on photo negatives confessions
Blushing with pastel transparency of opaque blended impressions
Images emerge into negative space awash with nude opinions
Perspective layered into hard edges from edgy palette dominions;
Meandering through silent salons shaded dusky murals in shadows of rose
Lending sienna tints and hues to luminosity’s prisms in afterglow;
A sacred place vibrating in clear cerulean hues –
Holy space of signed wax relics - a chancel of still life in blooms;
Drifting through galleries of jigsaw puzzled passages
Fantasies spattered in bold black and white sketched with color assuage;
Visions staring back unblinking at lost victories buried in the abstract
Untouched prints, tattooed in rust, restored –restoration intact;
Still furnishing this sacred place
With an ever expanding collection displayed
Fragments of umber magic captured – deckled grief fading –
Portraits of choice set in unforgettable, studies of raw strangled cries invading;
Browsing hand in hand with free form time -
Lost in mazes of archival, acid free, displays in fine lines;
Within twisted illustrations featureless faces hidden -
Born out of the gasping barren abyss of flat washes in rhythm;
Framed in this breathing womb tiny points of pigment wait
Nurtured! Protected! Nourished! Building up a portrait;
Unfinished infinite design revealing watermarks
Cherished by the eternal conservancy in soaring arcs;
And in the brush strokes of this secret sanctuary place
Abides the master plan of the divine intimate grace.
Version #2 of Sanctuary – 7-27-21
Honesty presides in these fresh sonnets
Where breathing seeks to set example
For future generations on thresholds
Of honest wit staying apt and ample
Poets questioning meaning in long life
While judging and evoking honesty
They hold themselves above impending strife
And espouse flamboyant ideas-majesty
Honesty leads the art of poetry
For a poem swallows up the reader
Engulfing him with central bardolatry
Wise words breathe an eternal breeder
If poets just stopped phony contrasting
Perhaps poems would thrive everlasting
How does a new poem live forever?
Let me count the ways poems purify
Through female free-form and virile villanelle
If only they knew to demystify
Poetry that writes to catch attention
He did not get from his early childhood
A quiet child worthy of mention
Whose poems represented brotherhood
Reactions of interconnectedness reign
Sultry sounds stream to entice sentiments
A hope that senses will linger the same
That baby poems do dance like Bacchants
That the earth-bard could only smash thoughts, too,
So his poem would dance dreamily inside you
From the heart blooms colorful rose bouquets
Surrounded, a sweet seizure flutters upright
In gushing, garrulous melodic phrase
Made to fit undying spiritual rite
Hearts merge and hands do as faint souls entreat
Fragments of glass in the chapel's skylight
Form and message merge on rustic countryseats
Bucolic grazing land's tearful twilight
Poetry overwhelms overt outcasts
On journeys into the poet's caves
A mysterious abyss of absinthe
Pathways crossing upward to vivid waves
Where, at last, souls meet to exchange nepenthe
That simply symbolizes completeness
In every illustrious, starry sweetness
Poetry is breath
To us bequeath!
With my thoughts
Whispering through my heart
Kind words, graceful
Like the wings of a cardinal
Softly embracing
The soul who needs stirring
By the fire of a passion
So alive it amazes
Leaves the heart yearning
For more of the joy
That comes from knowing
He is there inside
Dancing to the music
Of a soul who is adoring
The One who created
Sun, moon and stars
All the wonder of the world
Praise rains down
Like a free form poem
No rhyme or reason
Only the beating
Of a heart who agrees
His grace, once believed,
Shelters us from every storm
Pierces the darkness
With joy, hope and love
Faith that moves beyond
The fear of one who worries
The dread of a heart who
Buries its dreams
And fades like the dusk
Into the night sky
Sapphire thoughts curled
In feelings, hope
Beaming through a song
Brilliant as the mighty dawn
My heart needs His love
Falling through me
Renewing me
Showing me the difference
In the shades of night
The shadows and hues
Of a morning who lets in
The breathtaking
Dreams who have brightened
A heart in hope
A mind in wonder
A soul in the knowledge
That His love is alive
Living inside the one who knows
He is there to guide
And provide
Praise Him
With every thought
Each word
Every longing or hope
Praise Him
For He is good
He is the blessing
The miracle of love
The silence of a heart
The feeling in a light
The soul who knows
Wherever He goes
There is the promise
Of life, eternity
Forever and always
The anticipation of heaven!
His love – rained down on us
Is a love that stirs hearts
To give their best treasures
The glories and the praise
That will last from here to forever
(Dedication: For Soupers, and all who struggle
to create poetry, have faith and keep writing.
The muse awaits your passionate writes.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late hours preside, I sit and write;
Feel thoughts collide: surge of new cites.
Night shadows hide, I string my thoughts;
Words now abide: sway beyond plot.
Electrons swirl, cyberspace pen,
Feelings stir twirl: I craft word span.
Connect the dots, hurl feelings far;
Words fill each lot: dance with the stars.
Blank canvas here, my paintbrush tints;
Unleash most clear: imagine mints.
Verse in free form, lines with sure rhymes;
Rhythm frees norm: frame poetic chimes.
Seek then the light, heed write and theme;
A sanguine sight: a vivid dream.
Write can reveal, thoughts cast in lines;
Feel urge reveal: plain words sublime.
So share your lines, let goodness grow;
Seek the divine: cast words that show.
Create a space, go beyond time;
Glimpse beyond face: charm feeds fond rhymes.
Once upon urge, surge of clear signs;
Symbols now merge: play beyond grime.
Usher a feed, plant a bold seed;
Nurture a need: feel cites fine reed.
Music strings feel, fling words that flame;
Poetry can heal: purge ugly blame.
Sun and shadow, no weather bars;
Verse now follows: let nothing mar.
No one can stop the flow of verse;
Yes drop by drop: oceans observe.
Now pen your thoughts, words on paper;
Design word spot: feel verse flutter.
Leon Enriquez
07 September 2014
Singapore
Just a free form notion,
A sky mold, hanging high.
Dome around, the heart of town.
Recipes so tasty,
Diners, dives, meals, and high fives.
Alley cats saving 9 lives.
Its the city life.
Bustling night, rustling unlike leaves.
Street lights, Endless streets.
Tonight is spent on the inside,
Natures wall close on the outskirts.
Windows abundant, Spent out on taxi fairs.
I do not mind, I do not care,
we will breath for some city air,
a little longer till we meet Mountains.
Rain, falling down sewer drains.
Subway trains, underground movement.
Meant it to you, stumbling into drunken Sunset.
Reflected window panes,
I will see you through, dodging sidewalk cracks.
Another pub, another run.
Tabs all filled, but we are no where near done.
Climb me to a skyscraper,
city lights scream in the distance.
Synergies mold together in reflection,
putting such lights in motion.
You make me feel alright.
City lights, City life. All night.
Tonight is spent on the inside,
Natures walls, close on the outskirts.
Windows abundant. Broke from taxi fairs.
I do not mind, I do not care.
We will breath for some city air
a little longer till we meet Mountains.
Highway running out of town
we move towards silence,
the certain type of vibration.
Back to Nature, for the 1st time.
I felt just fine, I am yours, and you are mine.
You make me feel alright.
Moon light, True life. All night
Form:
II
I am writing this segment in free-form poetry. Structureless rhyme schemes.
I think lost myself again.
my thoughts spiral.
in the whirlpools of my mind
might seem like a cliché to say
but I really can’t ever unwind.
However today,
On one autumn evening, and not a particularly memorable one either,
stood under a pink half-moon, to take a breather.
a temperate fall breeze, finished the blunt, soul-felt light
in the stillness of the night, I was enraptured by the essence of the atmosphere.
instilled within me a sense of solitude, stood on two feet, the mind took flight.
the shadow of my body plastered still on the concrete —
imagine disquieting muses de Chirico.
this allowed a man to be with his thoughts,
lately, time been passing in light-years
andromeda in my head they don’t see what I see
trapped in society’s monotony daydreaming of an escape
to some normalcy can be a cell for the mind’s full potential
even Charles Darwin knew for the survival of the very human race
discomfort and evolution are essential
looking at the sky trying to visualize future realities or dreams I feel halfway there
against the grain mentality not the type for handouts I want my dreams tangible
27000 days you have to live do you comprehend that I wish I could
Shout it thorough this pen, and drop out
and give up some days, but you wanna die living in regret and your same ways?