Home » Poems » Best » Neal Freeland » Best Neal Freeland Poems

Best Poems Written by Neal Freeland

Below are the all-time best Neal Freeland poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Neal Freeland Poem

In the March of Dreams This Way . . . Once More, Never Before

I’m marching in the dream 
It’s raining heavily and the sky is dark and flashed with electric white
Silver shards gleam down from the sky
To shatter the still and calm I love so of the rain
In the dream I am young as I am now
Full of life
Strong and full of grace like never before this moment
When I dream within dream of you standing there in the sunlight
Of the sighing of day light waning beneath the whisper of night cascading 
Like the dreams of yesteryear come once more to pass this way

Dreaming in the dream of another dream born of memories long and old
Lost again am I amid the rains pelting my skin briskly, warmly
Like your voice in my ear of when we spoke to clutch each other fast
To hold one another close within the span of memories
Needing to feel alive and whole and with one another
For the space between us still of the yawning days and nights falling softly
Lingering here and then as we lay spent, smiling, laughing in the echoes of pleasure
And I march on; I march on toward the East where I see you standing 
With your head held high and arms holding out to me
A bright smile somehow shyly kept across your beautiful face like a river
Fresh from the mountain of days reborn in the fullness of spring

And so I dream as I march under the raining sky and shatter spikes of silver gleaming
Of when and where I stand before you with a quiet smile of wars fought and won
When across these shoulders I carried the sum of world’s worries, 
Pains and lamentations deep and plenty folded 
Like the crystal I gazed within your eyes
When whisper of meaning deep as the sky unfolded within the stars above us now
Did you from across the chasm between 
And still under the thunder of time and when I hear you so close
I dare to reach out and stroke your face with a feather light breath
From jaw line to lips so sweet I weep in the pleasure of knowing you deeply
But I am marching, still marching and into the East I find myself cast
In dream and still more I dream as I dreamed and dreamt never of you before this
For never having dared to dream such as you, 
Could not for never seen such before have I . . .

I am marching in the dream
Under the raining sky that kisses my body briskly
Like the dream of your voice in my ear in the birth of day
When wrapped within you I did, was, and will be, I am to be once more
For the first

I am dreaming and in the dream I am marching
Marching under the silver gleaming sky I march

Details | Neal Freeland Poem

To the Edge of the World (The Song of Navriss Pt.2)

Like a vulture, he came to my hometown,
To my hometown.
Just a little boy, I watched him
Knock upon the old wooden door,
To the old man’s house,
The old grizzled Moor.

In silence, the man in black fled down the old road,
Beside him running silent,
Was the grizzled old Moor.
Behind the two upon a horse,
I rode through the cold.
Through the charred hills, 
Beyond mountains old.

We travelled through lands, where the sun feared to tread, 
And the midnight sun filled my heart with dread.
Still the two, upon dark gossamer wings,
Led me back into the sun,
But it would be many years
Before our journey was finally done.

	Hey you, with the chill in your bones
	Come gather round . . .
	Pull yourself up closely
	Warm yourself by the fire . . .
	Can you feel it?
	
Seasons changed
While the years sailed on by
Still we went on,
Forever on, and on. 
Beneath a sun and moon
Trading places in the sky.
Beyond seas so vast, 
So cold.
Until at last we came,

 
To the edge of the world, 
Where a man now grown up
Can touch the stars.
I stood upon the edge of the place, 
The place they go, their world.
Which is cold, sometimes hot
Beyond the edge of the world.

With my cloak wrapped tightly around me
I followed the man in black, 
Yet behind the old Moor
Into the heart of a darkened land
Where souls yearn to be free.
And my eyes opened wide, 
So eager to see what I might find.

	Hey you, with the chill in your bones
	Come gather round . . .
	Pull yourself up closely
	Warm yourself by the fire . . .
	Can you feel it?
	
Bright coin in my hand, 
‘Twas this I gave to the dead ferryman.
Over black mirrored water, 
Silently we sailed over the Sea of Styx.
Little more than my shadow
I studied the black-dressed man,
Just as he studied the souls beneath the waves,
A spiralling helix.

Upon the far shore
Minos sat upon a throne of bone
With his host of the damned, 
For the grizzled old Moor 
Minos passed judgement severe,
Yet unto black naught was said nor done,
Yet unto me was passed
The cruellest judgement.

I cried for all to hear,
“I am alive! Alive.”
But Minos sat back and smiled
And said, “Oh woe to yea curiosity unfed,
You who had followed black while still very much alive
Shall walk eternity through the footsteps of the dead.”
	
	I pray you heed me well,
	For we are the spirits of regret,
	The souls of the Forgotten
	And we are the ghosts of . . .
	Sorrow . . .

And so I sit,
Beneath the muted stars,
On the edge of the world . . .

Details | Neal Freeland Poem

The sky beckons me open these eyes and we do
The owl and I
We turn our gaze unblinking to the sky,
The heavens above and together we see
We see as two the clouds are touched with cerise,
Sighing into deeper hues until they merge
Merge with the water drained cerulean tiredness of those many underbellies as if
As if the fresh colour can soothe the storm resting within.

The skies breathe down cool air, crisp . . . and clear
It touches everything
With something more than just life,
Carries with it the promise of tomorrow,
The foreshadowing of nature’s style awakening after the long winter’s cooling embrace.

As if she can barely contain her urge to scream
Scream out in freedom
As if she can barely contain her cries of stretching

Stretching out toes and fingers
Revelling in the these her first movements that bring

Bring forth the blooming promise
Whispered in the sky of summer’s raining sheaths of tresses caressing

Caressing this hungry earth.
With all the tired souls falling rapt by the newly forgotten tears

Tears still lingering in the lightly licking touches of grass yawning from sleep.
Yawning from sleep.
Beneath the timid warmth of our stretched out toes
When our souls are tickled

Tickled by the dew dropped eyelashes of the earth.

And . . .

And as always the moonset vanishes for this first kiss is only false
One like the first rays of dusk across the night swept sky and lands lingering
Lingering beneath the moon’s subtle glow,
That false dawn with all its memories intact of yesteryear.

Where once walked the souls of children undreamed
When we were young in the expanse of this our home
When the dirt beneath our bare feet was still untouched by time

And this

This is what I see in the sighing

Sighing of the midnight star.

Details | Neal Freeland Poem

Warrior

“Are you a Warrior?”

I was asked in the in the quiet solitude of day 
And I wondered long into the night

What does a Warrior make?

If by a Warrior you mean
One who always tries to do the right thing
Even when doing what is right tears my heart in two
One who does the right thing just because it is . . .

If by a Warrior you mean
Someone who always makes time to listen
Who brings you a smile when you least expect it
Who laughs with you everyday, today, just like yesterday
And cries a flood of tears so yours do not fall alone

If by a Warrior you mean
One who stands up for those in need
Who fights for those who cannot, or will not
One who turns the other cheek in the face of rage, hatred and bigotry
Walks away when my blood screams out injustice!
And a fist is all it seems I have left to choose
Because walking away is the right choice . . .

If by a Warrior you mean
Someone who will always be there for you
Always tries to move Heaven and Hell to keep his promises to you
Someone whose soul withers and screams when I cannot, have not
Supports you when you are wrong because that is when you need it the most

If by a Warrior you mean
A person of honour, of compassion, faith and humility
Someone of strength, trust, of love and respect
Someone of ethics and integrity and the will to live buy them
The courage to fight for your dreams and . . . and to fight for my own
Someone who will always apologise and say I am so, so very sorry I hurt you

If by a Warrior you mean all of these things
Then all I can say to you it this, just this, only this . . .

I do not know if I am a Warrior

But I want to be . . .

Best Poems Written by Neal Freeland

This I Know

The Forlorn Sea

In the March of Dreams This Way . . . Once More, Never Before

Little Lies, Little Lies

To the Edge of the World (The Song of Navriss Pt.2)

Walking In the Wind For She

The Desert Edge (Part One)

The Ashes of Our Innocence

Emergence

Warrior