Free verse Poems
"the process of removing toxic substances"
by Soulayma A.
Why do I write?
.
Is that because writing is the act of being alive as Ryad said?
Even when I cannot breathe, I can write what suffocates me before my heart stops beating. I would point to the sun and make my last poem out of rays instead of words.
Is it because I’m still not healed yet?
But how much does it take? Three years of medication, 3 thousand words per month, 3 colors of dying, 6 new haircuts. I’ll break the record if I kept changing, I’ll break the record but I will not be healed.
Is it because, I write cuz I can do nothing about my rage, the rage that I don’t even recognize?
Writing is my "detoxification", but what if I was made of poison? When will I be healed?
......
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,
......
Woman in Chains
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
She lately hears lyric nightingale at the sole window,
And through its bars witnesses a melancholy moon,
And her heart longs for the freedom of velvety flight,
But lessons she now knows weren't learned too soon!
An innocent victim of childhood abuse and ensuing rage,
In the days of sugar plum fairies and make believe,
A streetwise teenage runaway, who soon lost her way,
After making an unwise choice of whom she would love!
During lights out she makes plans and begins to reminisce,
Knowing in her young heart, it won't always be like this,
......
The Sun Rose Very Rose
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Nighttime ebony hues, turned to lovely shades of rose,
And a creamy moon yet shone, about to make its escape.
The song of praise commenced from the emerald treetops,
And other stirrings began the summer's day happenings.
I had awakened by and by, to dreamy roses in the sky!
I was pleased that day, a golden sun was coming my way,
With beauty in its wake, in charmed customary fashion.
The roses from my garden, sat fragrantly in the vase,
Waiting in silent patience, for deep admiration to go by.
A wonderful beginning to an exceedingly promising day,
......
Exhilaration
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Rapidly down the mountainside,
The pure powdery snow spraying!
Nearer to vast sapphire skies,
And long ere a perplexed purple.
Bracing winds travel from afar,
And carelessly tousle the hair,
Long after the mists of orange,
In the treasured golden noon,
On the other side of the moon!
Enormous speeds are attained,
......
A Dreamy Night
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Black onyx night, of the pearlescent moon,
diamond dew kissed, musk rose red.
Deep purple and white passion!
Phantoms dance in lilac dreams;
around the corner of blooms,
with memories of sunshine.
Comparing lovely costumes,
in fields, beds and flowerpots,
just steps away from moonlight.
A polka dot rainbow flared.
......
"the process of removing toxic substances"
by Soulayma A.
Why do I write?
.
Is that because writing is the act of being alive as Ryad said?
Even when I cannot breathe, I can write what suffocates me before my heart stops beating. I would point to the sun and make my last poem out of rays instead of words.
Is it because I’m still not healed yet?
But how much does it take? Three years of medication, 3 thousand words per month, 3 colors of dying, 6 new haircuts. I’ll break the record if I kept changing, I’ll break the record but I will not be healed.
Is it because, I write cuz I can do nothing about my rage, the rage that I don’t even recognize?
Writing is my "detoxification", but what if I was made of poison? When will I be healed?
......
Brick-Wall
by Lokenath Roy
Cascades of love,
I kept putting bricks around
how long shall I surround?
Whatever was left;
of it all—
I stood with ballistas' protruding
upon stinking patches of blood-mud;
the gates to my paradise
banished forever.
......
Life´s destiny
by Mario Odekerken
In the stillness of dawn,
dreams awaken,
whispers of purpose,
carry on the breeze.
Each heartbeat,a reminder
of the fragile thread,
that weaves us together,
a tapestry of moments.
......
Rising In Love 2
by Falling Awake
Waves seep over sand,
The Sun crests,
We’re hand in hand.
Daybreak’s unfolding,
To a shared beholding,
Our minds are molding…
I can feel us growing–together.
We converge concurrently,
......
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Eliza Connolly (1 poem about Free verse)
I teach English and history to high school kids and enjoy writing. -
-