Tag Archives: Free Verse

“The Snow Man” by Wallace Stevens [w/ Audio]

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One must have a mind of winter
 To regard the frost and the boughs
 Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
 To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
 The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
 Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
 In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
 Full of the same wind
 That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
 And, nothing himself, beholds
 Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Tree Flight [Free Verse]

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On a hike,
    I come upon a tree
       Raised up on its roots,
       As if in mid-stride --
       A long, cartoonish stride
   That stretches across the trail.

But the tree doesn't stir -- 
   No matter how quietly I wait;
   No matter how long I wait.

Oh, how I wish to catch the tree
   As it flees.

River Vision [Free Verse]

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in a flat, wide river:
   something juts up
   from the water --
   far in the distance

for an instant,
   i startle:
   seeing it as an
   extended arm...

like that Stevie Smith
   poem, but i discover
   it's neither waving,
   nor drowning, but 
   merely protruding...

a dead limb
   stuck in the river,
   drag & pull balanced,
   waiting to be 
   carried away.

“Granadilla” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]

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I cut myself upon the thought of you
 And yet I come back to it again and again,
 A kind of fury makes me want to draw you out
 From the dimness of the present
 And set you sharply above me in a wheel of roses.
 Then, going obviously to inhale their fragrance,
 I touch the blade of you and cling upon it,
 And only when the blood runs out across my fingers
 Am I at all satisfied.

Stranger [Free Verse]

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What a view --
   Lying on one's back
      In a strange land,
   Seeing familiar skies, 
               &
   Unfamiliar faces,
 And wondering what kind
   Of strange beast 
      They take one for --
   On one's back,
      In the churchyard
         Of a strange land.

Riderless [Free Verse]

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An unfamiliar horse --
   Saddled but riderless --
 Cautiously ambles
   Into the village.
 Its saddle, bags, and coat
   Spattered in black --
      Really, rust-red on brown. 

The villagers want nothing 
   To do with it,
      But each sneaks it food
         And lets it water at their
            Tank.

“I heard thee laugh” by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]

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I heard thee laugh,
And in this merriment
I defined the measure of my pain;
I knew that I was alone,
Alone with love,
Poor shivering love,
And he, little sprite,
Came to watch with me,
And at midnight
We were like two creatures by a dead camp-fire.

Crisis Arises [Free Verse]

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Crisis arises
   From the depths
    Of intended perfection --
   "Intended" because all
      We can ever do is
         Aim & release.
   It is more an act of luck 
      To hit the bullseye
         Than to miss.
   Bullseyes don't occur because
      Of a lack of adverse forces 
         At work.
 They occur because of some 
      Fortuitous balancing 
          Of adverse forces.

“Have you ever made a just man?” by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]

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"Have you ever made a just man?"
 "Oh, I have made three," answered God,
 "But two of them are dead,
 And the third --
 Listen! Listen!
 And you will hear the thud of his defeat."

Night Swimming [Free Verse]

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Trudging into lapping waves
   On a dim and dusky eve.

Chest deep
   One pops up, pressing one's chest 
      Onto the water,
   And swims toward a distant 
      Silhouetted rock outcrop.

But it doesn't stay silhouetted.

Soon, one is heading into
      A grand, black abyss,
   There is no shape in this world,
   Only the feel of limbs -- pulling & kicking.

Sounds grow ever more feeble --
      And ever more rare --
   Until the smell of seawater becomes
      A bright and vivid sensory experience --
         Layered & textured.

Rolling onto one's back, one can see
   Patches of sparkling stars
      In the cloud gaps. 

One lays upon the waves --
   Feeling as though one conforms to them 
       As one floats like a piece of driftwood --
   And sees the twinkle of distant stars,
      In a world too vast to understand.