shayarisms4lovers June18 219 - Free Verse: Tame the Fire

Free Verse: Tame the Fire

In this free verse poetry, “Tame the Fire.” In this free verse poetry, I was a six-year-old girl. My family lived on a farm in the countryside of Hayden, Id. It was a perfect Saturday, the weather was cooler, we were heading into fall. It was perfect for burning trash in the old barrel on the side of the old shed. I was watching my brothers burning trash when something horrible happened. Life can change as quickly as a shift in the wind. I’ll describe through words in poetry. Free Verse Poetry: Tame the Fire At five and seven what did they know of fire? Nothing until that day. Sticks and a barrel of flames. Of fire that eats flesh, leaving you like a sun-dried raisin. Running, and laughing with fire, it loves the wind and cloth. It eats cloth. It ate my brother’s leg. He ran screaming, running from the flesh-eating fire. I ran too. I ran to get mother. Mother was “the fire tamer.” Mom threw him upon the ground, like a rolling pin. Rolling him back and forth, like she was rolling out bread dough. Bread she would make every Saturday. Mother snuffed out the flesh-eating fire.

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shayarisms4lovers mar18 75 - Free Verse: Life Among Stars

Free Verse: Life Among Stars

In this free verse poetry, “Life Among Stars.” A subtle night of observing, the sites and sounds of nighttime talking. The eyes and ears. See and hear the stars stirring, a sky sharing a night show. White shooting lights speak in the darkest of night. I feel words rising a canvas surface. Free Verse Poetry: Life Among Stars Star’s radiant shine: dimmer. Then bright. Still, I watch. Even among the black. Too much delight here. A striking meteor fire of white glitter. Furred wings flutter for bugs. Owl’s soft who are you. Coolness collides. Goosebumps rise. I settle to the distant hum of wheels on pavement. September night, a warm merlot. I listen and owl hoots.

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shayarisms4lovers mar18 118 - Free Verse: Hibernation

Free Verse: Hibernation

In this free verse poetry, “Hibernation.” This poem is from an observance of watching children from day to day and how the seasons play a role in their behavior. I believe the seasons have voices and stir the changes in one’s soul. Watching children throughout the year provide lenses for me to view not only the reactions that have offered inspiration but to experience life through their eyes. Free Verse Poetry: Hibernation Hidden inside the groping, fingers of fall, besides, the old Pinewood apartments we stand to wait for the yellow bus. All year their excited voices rise and fall like the changing leaves. But here, they are quieted and still. On the cusp of winter, cold air penetrates like piercing ice sickles in a foot thick of snow. I insert my hands to the warmth —Melting shivers, to the prickle of the wind, and thankful for how peaceful they are, capable of silence. Sometimes I think there is another place where life, cannot change us. Each day we inhale and stop as the yellow bus rumbles and grinds itself along with pavement. The sun crawls from tree to tree and dances across, the frosty green slivers. The earth spins in the grinding […]

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shayarisms4lovers June18 296 - Micro-Poetry: Emotions

Micro-Poetry: Emotions

A micro-poetry, “Emotions.” One of poetry’s amazing abilities is that in the words, one can exchange feelings from one person to another—between poet and reader, alive at one moment, or could be 10, 20, 30 years of age, across many languages and cultures of the world. In addition, a poem can convey our most powerful emotions, which the poet writes about so passionately in lines, painful moments, happy moments—those hold mystery—filled with sunlight in one essence, rain in another, and then, maybe, filled with words that come from a person who is silent in suffering. A micro-poetry and digital art piece of example. Micro-poetry: Emotions Although the rain falls abundantly here, sunlight also leaks  through the open windows of this dilapidated apartment.

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shayarisms4lovers mar18 12 - Urban Daily Haiku: Changes

Urban Daily Haiku: Changes

In this urban daily haiku, “Changes.” Water…Rippling at the motion of movement. A quiet beach front and gray skies. Perspective is hung in the clouds. Pause is the granules between toes. The thousand moments of prayers, words laced with wisdom, and hopes break through the clouds of change. Peace is the answering. An urban daily haiku on a perspective of our challenging times. Urban Daily Haiku: Changes look through reflection a thousand moments of pause perspective changes What is a Haiku Poem?  A Japanese poem which can also be known as a Hokku. A Haiku poem is similar to a Tanka but has fewer lines. A Haiku is a type of poetry that can be written on many themes, from love to nature. A Haiku consists of 3 lines and 17 syllables.

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shayarisms4lovers June18 262 - Micro-Poetry: Deep

Micro-Poetry: Deep

A Micro-Poetry, “Deep.” I always appreciate the depth of the one’s soul. And how we can either diminish (breaks into small pieces) or how we can exceed expectations, all is determined by the depth of our strength and passion we hold inside rib cages. Micro-Poetry: Deep Every time she is at the park, The trees start to weep, wishing they weren’t so tall, cause her love is so deep. What is a Free Verse Poetry? Typically patterned by speech rather than meter, this form of poetry is very open to the author’s discretion and usually does not rhyme. Visual and sound effects are often employed.  It can have as many lines as the writer wishes.

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shayarisms4lovers June18 258 - Free Verse: At the Age of 10, I was a Bird

Free Verse: At the Age of 10, I was a Bird

In this Free Verse Poetry, “At the Age of 10, I was a Bird.” I wanted to share an experience of my first time flying with my father, he was an aerial photographer and pilot for the air force. It was a thrilling adventure for a child of age 10. Hope you enjoy this little free verse poetry and digital art piece! Free Verse Poetry: At the Age of 10, I was a Bird. I, at the age of 10. Got the chance to be a bird. Or at least feel like what it was to fly, to soar. My father had purchased a Cessna 150. A two-wing contraption which held our life. At the sound of tires on pavement, grinding stone against the rubber, And then, my gut being pulled down into toes I am like a small bird, taking off into the unknown. My father pointed out the window. My throat gasped. My eyes seeing below I saw things go from big to small within seconds as we flew higher and higher into the blue. I thought I was looking at a 10,000-piece puzzle. So many pieces. Little odd shapes of green, oblong shapes of water, and squares. […]

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