Free verse Poems
Altar
by Marilyn Chin
Why cry over dried flowers?
They're meant to be straw.
Why cry over miniature roses?
They're meant to be small.
Why cry over Buddha's hand citron?
Why cry over the hidden flower?
Why cry over Mother's burnt forehead?
Her votive deathglow, her finest hour.
Blue/Red
by Ashleigh Owsley
Am I blue or am I red?
am I bitter, am I upset?
Am I allowed even allowed to be red?
To be is to live.
Do they resent me for my resentment?
I feel nothing, I feel it all.
Emotions I am unable to describe, I draw them on the wall.
I bite my lip, I consume myself
I don’t see whatever it is they are seeing.
I am my only lover, but I hate me more than I love anything.
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Glass Half Empty
by Tuesday .
Where the sun’s pride glows red on pale skin
and treasure is clams under our toes
burrowed in the sand.
The air is salty and
the cleanest my lungs have ever felt.
Deer frolick together among the tall brush
Stopping for just a moment, to tell me that I’m alive.
But even then I am on fire,
And the deer are getting sick from the ticks
......
A Pleasant Surprise
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Warm winds came when the least expected,
With the buttery sun and crimson blooms.
A natural surprise, a turn for the better,
For fast rules need at times to be broken!
And the windows opened to rich sunshine,
As in came spring early, in days of wine.
Fading Colors
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Rain pours against the windowpane,
As all the world has gone gray,
With dark skies all the noontide,
And foul weather keeps us inside.
Like vivid autumn leaves fallen,
Once exotic dancers on the wind,
Soon dead and buried in snowdrifts,
In keeping with the rule of the
Seasons, one dance in golden sun!
Like the afternoons daily dying,
......
PTSD v.2
by Falling Awake
Four years elapsed,
Since the world collapsed,
And I still can’t delete it,
Delete it from my head.
The concrete impaction,
One solitary action,
From able to chained,
Chained to his deathbed.
......
"Whispers of the Wild"
by SANJAY SAHARAN
In the heart of the untouched woods, where silence weaves its tale,
Nature, a canvas painted with hues untamed, a symphony unheard.
The trees, ancient storytellers, their limbs reaching for the sky,
A dance with the wind, an ode to time, where leaves whisper secrets.
Beneath the emerald canopy, the earth breathes, a rhythm unseen,
Moss-covered rocks cradle tales of the ages, and ferns unfold like delicate dreams.
The babbling brook, a liquid lullaby, eternally weaving through the landscape,
......
Prose Poems
by Michael R. Burch
PROSE POEMS by Michael R. Burch
These are prose poems, experimental verse and free verse by Michael R. Burch. The first prose poem, “Something,” was the first poem I wrote that didn’t rhyme, around age 17–18.
Something
―for the children of the Holocaust and the Nakba
by Michael R. Burch
Something inescapable is lost—lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight, vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars immeasurable and void.
......
In The Darkness
by Marcus Malkowicz
As I lay in the darkness
Wide awake
Trapped in my thinking
As I feel unwanted
Selfish thinking I know
Desiring the embrace
Though what I lack
The pain it brings
......
The Gray Days
by Marcus Malkowicz
I know it’s the afternoon
I know the sun exists
Though what I see
Only lives a lack of color
A lack of color
That’s so unappealing
Yet so striking
It screams without a soul
......
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Eliza Connolly (1 poem about Free verse)
I teach English and history to high school kids and enjoy writing. -
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