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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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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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 pavement.…

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Free Verse: Shadow and Light

In this free verse poetry, “Shadows and Light.”

I love to take pictures of everything, I believe this was my father’s doing, as a teenager I spent many hours in the darkroom helping him develop films, he had such an eye for photography and art. We would absorb the world through a camera lens.

Photography is what spurred my interest in digital art. The double exposures, effects, overlays, and textures one can bring to a single tap of a button. Here in this free verse poetry, I try to describe what it’s like. Hope you enjoy it.

Free Verse Poetry: Shadow and Light

On the surface of anomalistic paving stones
light stretches across dimensions.

For a fleeting time
shadows play with depth and perception.

I watch with camera in hand as a bystander in darkness.

Already I see shadows marauding grooves, endless voids.
I feel the quietness rush,
Imaging it is stopping an erected buzzing lamppost.

I stand and anticipate.
The exchange of light and darkness.
The chilling air.
Revealing time has moved a micro-second.
And then the shape changes,
And rectangular become longer,
And wider, lighter shades fade.
Whose fluctuations captured by a camera lens in video mode?
And the photographer whose knees are bending
Aching                  and balanced.

She inhales and breathes out slowly—

For creating picture-perfect…shakiness isn’t plausible.
As a photographer in a long black coat, with nimble fingers.
On the start button,
Time encapsulated, and shadows and light, framed second by second.

Steady is the hand that holds.

Holding steady!
Light moves
Shadows twist
Molding, bending over grooves.

The greatest video made
Is one tested with patience?
One of creativity.
There’s something—
Something inspiring about it—

I mean, the moment of shadows and light.…

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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.

Now I could see…what a bird sees.

The view below, and now soaring so high above Earth,
I was, but one tiny atom of mother Earth.
My father tapped me on the shoulder.
He motioned, for me to put my hands
upon the yoke in front of me
(steering mechanism of a small plane).
I placed both hands apart after observing
how my father had set his.

I watched as he turned the yoke to the left,

My gut fell again into my toes. I felt like I was soaring.

I looked out of the window as we turned in the wind.
A white cloud hung in the sky in front of us.
We flew into the humungous cloud,
I saw white, gray, and space between
other puffy clouds within clouds.

I believe my mouth fell off my face.

Then, boom out of the white and into blue,
Father motioned with his hands that
it was time to head back.
I just stared out the window, soaking in
everything I could see.
We had flown a bit when I noticed we were descending.
The earth felt like it was going to swallow me.

Quickly the small green, blue, and shapes …

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