Free Verse Poetry - A Touch Of Blue Poems
Living is poetry. Poetry is life. Poetic verse, is expressed and shared in many different forms from acrostic to villanelle. The form that I express with is free verse. Free verse is quite similar to my persona, free, yet with substance and virtue. Like Picasso, these poems are from my "Blue Period".
Verses of Blue
The Nubian Princess
She was a Nubian Princess, or so she thought.
The Black Heiress to a fortune of time.
Her wealth staggered her every move.
Her thoughts became mere etches of her true self.
She did not like what she felt, so she moved away, only to find herself...again.
It isn't funny.
I reach out, and there's nothing there only space.
I reach again, and the space has moved.
I call out, and hear only my echo.
I call again and my echo doesn't hear me.
What must I do? What must I say, because it isn't funny.
There is a place, it's black with a small dot of blue.
The dot represents how much space is left to withstand pressure.
The dot will only expand as pressure is released, as tension is eased.
The dot is steadily shrinking.
Set Me Free
Courtesy of the drifted, Afro minds should be more uplifted.
Sing to me, bring to me spiritual conquests.
Carry me, lift me higher, the star has fallen.
I can not bring it back, it's lacks the glow, and is now an afterthought.
Run amongst the trees, flowers, bees, honey...tainted with the spiny souls of them.
Hushing me, rushing us, let me loose, set me free, so I can just be.
Where Are We?
Am I really here?
Am I me?
Is us we?
Together, apart, solitude amongst us.
Divided as one, pushes me deeper into a frenzy.
Souls are like birds, caged and without song.
Time is a forgotten memory.
Only you can tell...can you?
I am a mere glimpse, the dot of an i.
Clouded and distorted, paralyzed by unwanted shadows.
They speak, but I do not listen.
They cry and I cry too.
They laugh...and still I cry.
A black rainfall cascades on my soul, I can not swim.
I float, and drift into consciousness, and am now on the shore.
I won't go back, because I can not swim.
Peaches ripen in the spring of mind.
The nectar is what stimulates me, pushes me, urges me to want more...but
I don't, cause' I don't like peaches.
My strength is sometimes numbed by the particulars.
Ill fates run rampant under my feet.
I can not move fast enough.
I throw in a towel and come out with a washcloth.
I sweep the souls and they become ashes.
A mother bird sets out for food to feed her young,
She returns, and they are gone.
You tell me that I am great, and I say, "So What!"
You tell me, that I am giving, and I say, "So What!"
You Tell me that I am one of a kind, and I say, "So What!'
You tell me that you love me, and I say, "I Love You Too!"
Spirits stagger to find lost souls.
Tripping on the shadows, guarded by the mighty trees.
The forceful wind, pulls them up, and stirs them to a new awakening.
A sudden rain nearly drowns them, and now they are swimming...again.
My mind is shipwrecked, my heart is deserted.
Cast away from the people who smile.
I am lucky though, because I like being marooned.
I think of him, but I dream of you.
I think of warmth, but I'm too cold, frigid.
I think of kisses, but my mouth rants with words of indifference.
I think of spring, but the temperature is all wrong.
I think of you, and now dream of him.
I'm hollowed out, like timber, still withstanding time and the elements.
Laughter can be counted, but the numbers are running out.
Tears can be drained, because the tap is full.
Love will always be four letters. Is that enough?
In My Corner
I look in my corner, and there's only me.
I look before me, and there is only space where I once stood.
I look behind me, and there are my tears, just as I left them...still crying.
My soul crumbles in the dark.
Don't turn out the light, for I will no longer be.
Don't bring me to pitch darkness, I can not go in, because
My soul crumbles in the dark.
Poetic expression is a way of blending your thoughts and feelings into words that can electrify your emotions...evict your sorrows. It is an epithet of your life...of living.