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Poems about free verse
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Fact / Fiction / Free expression / Real emotion / Democrat / Republican / Tears / Hurt / Pain / Joy / Excitement / All are welcome / In poetry’s world / Find the strength / Grab a pen / And start freeing your spirit /
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The thickness of the air the hardness of the cold / only bad can have its final way / / In this oppressing storm: / Trees are cellophaned in sleet the road is wind-raked / / Hardened: hollow trees drying in the wind / Surounding an icy po
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See if anyone knows what this is about. I'll tell you in the notes at the end.
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How our perspective does change when we grow up!
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Written after seeing my grandfather's grave when my grandmother was still alive.
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Malevolent butterflies shred / the pink tissue of his gut. / / His mind rapidly darts from / one innocuous trivial ism to another. / / H
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We invite you to come on a journey of the mind.
by Brian Balzer
503 words, 14 comments,
on Nov 8 4:23 AM 2008. In Weird, Fantasy, Thoughts, Imagery, Abstract, Perception, Death, Life, Free verse. Reward
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I would hold you as long as you needed / I would kiss you as often as you liked / I would hold your hand as tightly has you held mine / I w
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Rain pouring down on the windshield. / Everything's a blur. / I look out the window, all I see are orange streetlights. / Splash! / We rac
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Something is approaching. / Clink! Clank! Clunk! / I attempt to stand where the doors open. / A rush of warm air overcomes me as I look fo
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Cracking open the door, / I let go of the cold metallic doorknob. / Bang! / Door slams. / Quickly we hurry to the car. / Gleaming under t
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The unscrupulous surge / Of malevolent magenta fizz / Abandons searching up the shore, / And churns and slinks / A tip-toe swagger / In pur
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Poetry Soup / / Note: not to be confused / with alphabet soup. / / Making soup / / is the most / / like making poetry. / / Anyone c
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Tea the paint your / bed and readjust, wait, / / readjust. / / The discovery channel. I wrote / about it, the kind of poem / Hannah doesn't know. / / The piano the covers the tangle, / the last year's late November. / / The co
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My heart is a rain barrel under the eaves. / I’m setting up and storing by, swallowing run-off, / rushing to take the laundry in. /
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As the last heart stops / what will remain / after / intellect / humility / kindness / love / etc etc / are / stupidity and lies. / These
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I sit in this wooden box of my mind / This box carefully crafted by tose wise to the world / Shaped by careful rod and club / No creativity they say just work and nothing more / Get good grades and a job that pays / Why doodle on paper when you
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Shadows glide over glassy surfaces / Moving in their mindless trance. / A white dust covers entirety / Hiding the pain of this world. / Scars lie beneath this endless white / Winter did well to hide this sight / Blind are the innocents to this
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Sweetly she haunts, / a toothless ghost. I catch her / hiding in smoke from the old stove; / a scent like toasted chilies in sweet oil
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Preparation appeals to the obsessive compulsive streak / that sleeps on the whole quiet in my nature. / How I enjoy with somber pleasure li
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My Letter / / I got The Letter. / The one that God should have never written. / With my name and his base address. / U.S. Army seal solomnly printed at the top of the lonely / paper. / "Ms. Carolyn Sullavin," they said to me, / "We regret
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im saying goodbye / to all my memories of you / to all the things we use to do / to the images of you / to the realistic you / to my heartaches / to my tears / to all the goodtimes / im just saying goodbye / its time to let go
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