Free Verse Music Poems | Examples
These Free Verse Music poems are examples of poetry about Free Verse Music. These are the best examples of Music Free Verse poems written by international poets.
My mind a cave of favorite characters
And greatest hits
A life time of connections and sidekicks
Frank Zappa plays the soundtrack
In a tumble of tightly compressed acoustic riffs
A genius long gone, but ever present
When he’s done he says,
In tightly compressed electronic bytes
“May we burn it all down.”
And I wake refreshed
To another day, another dawn.
(9/17/26)
Inspirations come within our knowledge
Changing sky's colours
Non-musical dancing of the leaves
The pursuing sun's motive
The hearted kiss of the grass on my pants
Man's changing strange behaviour
The taming of the wild animals
And the imbedding strange interest in my heart
I was sitting on a three legged stool
Somwhere in the middle of ninteen seventy
nine.
Milking, by hand,a cow in the byre
When I heard, Gangsters ,
A song by the Bristish Ska band,
The Specials
On the transistor radio.
And it's like when you fall in love
Or when you recieve an unexpected gift.
Music is the gift that,
Keeps on giving.
Im forever falling in love
Over and over again.
Yes, Deirdre Harrison, yes
I sang that song to my son
for years before he asked me to stop
I love you too,
Billy Holiday
"I'll always think of you that way"
in the way I hope my son
remembers me
when the trumpet plays its solo
and lesser sounds stop
This cabaret has cleared out
and the carousel has stopped turning circles
but "when the night is new"
I will find the corners
of the moon
and the meaning
of a strangely shaped life
The jingle-jangle of coins in the cash register
and the ringing of the bell
The click-clack of the Smith-Corona*
and the ringing of the bell
The raw power and whistled shriek of the locomotive
and the ringing of the bell
The ringing bell of the telephone call
schools now use a buzzer – not a bell
Is it a better world today without these forgotten sounds
~ and without the ringing of the bell
_____________________________________________________________
*An obsolete upright, manual typewriter. (Sniff, sniff).
Dancing blind is what they called us,
we both had two left feet.
I moved on the dance floor,
then she followed me gracefully.
Awkward it became,
as they laughed at us.
We did not care,
as we held each other tight in love.
In love with each other,
in love with the rhythm of the music.
In our last big turn,
our canes showed.
The room went silent,
only the music could be heard.
Now they knew we were blind,
but not by the music or by our feet.
Some nights,
the color of music
is barely a shimmer~
a pale wash of sound
brushing the air
like moonlight learning
how to breathe.
It moves the way
a memory moves,
slow at the edges,
soft in the center,
a hue you feel
before you see.
Sometimes it glows
like a beacon under water,
a muted gold
rising through the dark
to remind you
that even silence
has a pulse.
And sometimes
it is only a shadow
of a color~
the faintest blue
that gathers
when a voice trembles
with something
it cannot name.
Music is never just heard.
It is carried,
like light in the hands,
like a secret
that keeps changing shades
each time the heart
listens.
Beautiful words are here; Sponsor Nette Onclaud; 8-18-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Diaphonous
The LILT of a DIAPHONOUS melody
Clothed in night blooming perfumes
Lingers as sheer smiles of honeyed moonlight
Glide across the still LAGOON
In streams of silk ripples
Humming wistful music
In the hollows of blue dusk
And hallowed shimmer of adagios
A pastoral pause, to rest
In soft hymns of lingering grace notes.
I don't want to go my own way, Stevie
I want to rush through the weeds,
the thicket, the gnarls, the never-will-be trails
with you, sharper than machetes,
blazing our way backwards
on bicycles through hell
cutting ice sculptures in heaven
when we need a challenge
Time is an impatient bastard
on leopard legs
but you outdance Shakespeare
"Then I remember"
how your voice of silk and cactus cords
molded the clay into
what I would call me
"But if our paths never cross"
I will keep hacking away at stubborn verses
and insidious cucumber vines
that don't produce
All the guitars are weeping for you,
glorious gold
Now, let's tango time
across the moon
the coffee shop is booming
everyone's got their drink on
entertainer Brian begins the show
his comedy has people falling off their chairs
Karen gets her words in line
the poet speaks and draws their attention
Kyealea tunes her angelic voice
and the music rocks the house
so, if the coffee shops a shaken
come on down for some fun!
When does the sand stop the shark?
When will I understand the
simplest song?
Why do the heavy heaves
of my (core of a nut
in the pit of this) heart
respond to piano?
Do I always fantasize
about lost romance
played to music?
Helen Jane Long
isn't making the air beautiful tonight
just for me
But, thankfully for me tonight,
she helped me reignite
my own self-beauty, and sight
The quaking aspens shake their silver leaves
like paper bells as evening breezes
dance across the lake's gray surface,
stirring gentle swells
that splash the pebbled shore.
The coo-hoo-hoo of owls is like a love song
softly sung among the shadows
of the branches high above.
The descant of the sighing breeze,
the rustle of the trees,
the owls' low harmonies accompanied
by the timpani of rocking water
on the bow of anchored boats
are all melodic notes that play
the unique music
of the evening.
means double-step
or two-step in English
The cobblestones
are our cheerleaders
on the uneven footing
of “a life half-lived”
No one is watching
as I lead you down the dirty streets
made clean by night
and romantic lighting
Everything is finding its ending
tonight
I know how your feet transfer weight
over stones
when you are tired
and trying to make your woman happy
I choose you
everyday
and I will dance badly
and call it romance
for a better artist to illustrate
The strings of my Stradivarius
have waited too long
for you
Crows are breaking the sky
with frantic, angry feathers
and lawn mowers cut straight lines
with the raucous killing of sound
Quieter, more sinuous
strings should fill the thirsty air
Play ‘Promontory’
by Trevor Jones and Randy Edelman
so I can feel
the meaning behind things
through metal
and resonant wood
You control the bow
like a desperate, dying dancer
creating new colors
through the rubbing
of horsehair to steel
and goat gut
Beautiful things sometimes come
from raw origins
That I were your Stradivarius
They sing about my doorway
in throbbing waves of Florida heat,
repeating melodies of beauty,
soft and low, soft and low.
Raising limbs in gentle consonance
to strains piercingly sweet,
their mouths wide open choristers,
I see the crimson trembling of their throats,
quivering with symphonious vibrations;
oh, the gentle music they compose,
soft and low, soft and low.
Can you sense their tremulous silence,
most exquisite on the evening air,
a performance for discerning hearts
hear these hibiscus hymns of lavish praise
soft and low, soft and low.
July 22, 2026
Hymn of the Heart Poetry Contest
Hiya Sharma, Sponsor