Free Verse Poems

Published: August 2017

Examples of free verse poems about different areas of life. Free Verse poetry allows the poet to freely express their thoughts and feelings without being constrained by traditional poetic forms. Free verse poems can be structured in any way the poet chooses, and they often rely on natural rhythms and cadences of language to create their unique poetic form. Many modern poets use free verse to create a more conversational, free-flowing style of poetry that is more closely aligned with the rhythms of everyday speech.

16 Examples Of Free Verse Poems From Modern And Famous Poets

[i Carry Your Heart With Me(i Carry It In]
- By E.E. Cummings
Famous Poem

Edward Estlin Cummings (1894 - 1962) was a famous American Poet with an unusual style of writing. His name is frequently written in lowercase, e.e. cummings, and his poetry is probably best known for his unorthodox usage of both capitalization and punctuation, in which unexpected and seemingly misplaced punctuation sometimes interrupt sentences and even individual words.

in Famous Love Poems

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
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I just heard this today and love, love, love this poem. I am not really a reader, especially poetry, though I do enjoy both and lived through that lens growing up. But I wouldn't generally be...

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Mother To Son
- By Langston Hughes
Famous Poem

Langston Hughes was a prominent writer during the Harlem Renaissance. In this poem, a mother uses the metaphor of life being like a staircase to give advice to her son. While there are difficult times, you must keep moving like you would while walking up a staircase.

in Famous Family Poems

Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,

Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor-
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps.
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now-
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
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I was not a very good student when I was in school. I did the minimal amount of work required, retained little and barely paid attention. In 1965, my 8th grade English teacher read MOTHER TO...

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Touched By An Angel
- By Maya Angelou
Famous Poem

"Touched By An Angel" by Maya Angelou is a powerful poem that explores the transformative power of love. Through the use of poetic techniques such as repetition and imagery, Angelou conveys the message that love can liberate individuals from their emotional confines. The poem's emotional tone is hopeful and optimistic, encouraging readers to be bold in the pursuit of love even though love does have a cost.

in Famous Sad Love Poems

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free
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wow.. so emotional, Love frees the soul from bondage

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Tulips
- By Sylvia Plath
Famous Poem

Sylvia Plath (1932-1963) wrote “Tulips” while she was in the hospital. It reveals the struggle she had with her mental state. Sylvia wants to die at that moment, but the bright red tulips make her think about life and living. She almost feels as though the flowers are taunting her. “Tulips” was written in 1961 but wasn’t published until 1965 - a couple of years after her death.

in Famous Sad Poems

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage——
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free——
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle : they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.
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Somewhere I Have Never Travelled, Gladly Beyond
- By E.E. Cummings
Famous Poem

E.E. Cummings (1894-1962) was an American poet. He had his own unique writing style where he didn’t use spaces after commas or capital letters where appropriate. E.E. Cummings did not give his poems titles, so editors would generally take the first line of his poems to create titles. In this poem, the speaker is head-over-heels in love. His lover has complete control over him, and she constantly amazes him. Similes, personification, and alliteration can be found in this piece. It is made up of quatrains that do not follow a rhyme scheme.

in Famous Love Poems

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
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This poem is the one that did it! I read this along with my class, in seventh grade, and was forever inspired by the way Cummings uses words to create this picture of love and roses. He uses...

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Mirror
- By Sylvia Plath
Famous Poem

Sylvia Plath was an American author and poet who lived from 1932-1963. She was a driven person, and she graduated summa cum laude from Smith College in 1955. Despite her success, Plath struggled with depression, and committed suicide in 1963. This poem shows the struggle a woman has with her identity as she grows older and begins to lose her youthfulness. It also uses personification by giving human characteristics to the mirror.

in Famous Sad Poems

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful,

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful,
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
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A mirror never lies. It shows what is what exactly. Just as Plath writes: "I am silver and exact". The truth of our mortality is what we keep on negating and the speaker too finds it hard to...

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I, Too
- By Langston Hughes
Famous Poem

Langston Hughes (1902-1967) settled in Harlem, New York, in 1924 and was a prominent figure of the Harlem Renaissance. In this poem, he wrote of the reality that faced many in the black community and how they were regarded as “less than” by other people. The poem ends with the hope that one day it would be different. He shared the expectation that those who looked down on them would be ashamed.

in Famous Poems

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—
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I Am Not A Victim Of Breast Cancer
- By Laura Barnes
- Published by Family Friend Poems August 2013 with permission of the Author.
Originally from England, Laura Barnes has lived and worked as a teacher, trainer and life coach across four continents. Laura now lives happily in Gilbert, Arizona, and is the Owner/Founder/Chief Coffee Maker at Your Potential Power, a heart-centered life coaching practice. Laura is also an online instructor at the Southwest Institute of Healing Arts in Tempe, AZ. She is currently in training for her June 2012 climb of Mt. Kilimanjaro for charity. Laura would love to hear from you.

Poem Of Overcoming

in Inspirational Poems

Analysis of Form and Technique

I am not a victim of breast cancer. I am experiencing breast cancer.
I am not dying. I am living.
I am not curing. I am healing and restoring.
I am not fearing. I am loving and trusting.

I am not a victim of breast cancer. I am experiencing breast cancer.
I am not dying. I am living.
I am not curing. I am healing and restoring.
I am not fearing. I am loving and trusting.
I am not fighting. I am ceasing all hostility and conflict.
I am not weak or diminished. I am strong and whole and complete.
I am not coping or hoping. I am giving and receiving, creating and conceiving.
I am not crying. I am laughing until the tears run down my leg.
My body is not my enemy. My body is my loving friend, my gentle guide.
My life story is not history. My life story is legendary.
I am not powerless. I am powerful beyond measure.
I am not a drop in the ocean. I am the ocean in a drop.
I am not scattered. I am aligned.
I am not being destroyed. I am building my sacred stature.
I am not trapped or caged. I am as free as a feathery fledgling.
My body is not a muddy puddle of despair. My body is a hallowed temple of spirit.
I am not filled with shadows. I am filled with illuminating light.
I am not a passive puppet. I am an active advocate and enthusiastic participant.
I am not tired and bested. I am tied and invested.
I am not without a voice or meaning or purpose. I am an angelic messenger.
I am not discarded. I am needed.
I am not descending, dragging or faltering. I am consistently inspiring and uplifting.
I am not dwelling in the reflections of the past or the projections of the future. I am joyfully dancing naked in the unfolding mystery of the present moment.
I am not alone or abandoned. I am infinitely connected by the soft, silky vibrational threads of love.
I will not forget. I will remember.
I will not burn out. I will sparkle forever.
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I am a two time cancer survivor. I had a wonderful doctor. The first time I had a lumpectomy and radiation. The second time was five years later and I had a mastectomy with radiation and...

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She Is Strong
- By Mary Ann Parks
- Published by Family Friend Poems August 2015 with permission of the Author.
My daughter was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes at the age of 13. She is now 28. We have been through some rough times with ketoacidosis, and I have known what it is like to have a doctor say, "We are doing all we can." On October 5, 2013, she will have gone one year without a hospital visit. She is struggling with some of the complications of diabetes in her digestive system and it is becoming harder for her to control her blood sugars. This poem is about my admiration for her.

Poem About A Daughter's Struggle With Diabetes

in Sickness Poems

At birth,
she was strong.

It was her

At birth,
she was strong.

It was her
mother
who knew
that her
previously
pink and soft-edged
life
was about
to become
sharp,
red,
tangled in pain
and without
a guarantee.

But
she was strong,
and
even through
the
unkept
promises
and
the highs
and
the lows,
she stayed strong.

And
some nights,
her mother
sleeps
beside her
in a hospital.
Coming there
in confusion,
panting,
vomiting,
slipping away,
in an ambulance
or a helicopter,
with tubes
and needles
and anxiety,
panic,
terror,
then relief.
Always love.
Thinking,
"Why her?"
"Why us?"

And
as she finally
sleeps,
peacefully,
just as she did
as a baby,
and the adrenaline
fades away,
and the pain
gives way
to such beauty,
her mother
thinks to herself,
"Thank God,
she is strong."
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This is very similar to my younger sister. About 2 years ago she was really sick. I look back on pictures of her before she was diagnosed (T1D) and I can't believe I didn't notice something...

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These Stories We Wear
- By Sabina Laura
- Published by Family Friend Poems October 2021 with permission of the Author.
in Life Lesson Poems

these stories we wear –

scars,
stretchmarks,

these stories we wear –

scars,
stretchmarks,
wrinkles,

are wrongly labelled
as imperfections.

but aren’t they such beautiful,
courageous signs
of how we have lived?
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Dreaming On Paper
- By Rebecca
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2009 with permission of the Author.
I was reading some poetry online, and I saw a poem that a disabled boy wrote. It inspired me to write this because many people think that disabled people cannot think or write as well as people without disabilities, which is not true at all.

in Dream Poems

I don't talk.
My lips part and air pushes out,
but the sound must not fit,
because my thoughts are so big.

I don't talk.
My lips part and air pushes out,
but the sound must not fit,
because my thoughts are so big.

So I don't try to talk.
My thoughts must be too good for
words, for the air, for my lips.

But they are just right for paper.
My thoughts flow on paper.
They are just big enough.

So I don't talk;
I compose,
I write,
I dream.
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Tiny Shred Of Love
- By Swetha Baskaran
- Published by Family Friend Poems February 2013 with permission of the Author.
This poem is about my struggle with depression and a hope that I will be able to leave all the grief behind and find happiness in the days to come.

My Struggle With Depression Poem

in Hope Poems

Floating, heart askew
In the dark, deep tunnel of nothing
Claw with every cell of me
Reach out for anger, greed, sorrow

Floating, heart askew
In the dark, deep tunnel of nothing
Claw with every cell of me
Reach out for anger, greed, sorrow
Not the alone, gray, empty
Tiny shred of light
I wait for, hope for
A delusion there to help
Hold my hand tighter
Around the severing rope
My only tie to the world
A better life, twinkle dust
Of joy, love, a home
No more tears, aching soul
For a touch to hold on
Until then hope for, wait for
The tiny shred of love.
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I DON’T CARE!!!
- By Renee Hunt
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2010 with permission of the Author.
Raw Real Anger Poem After Breakup

in Heartbreak Poems by Teens

I don’t care where you go from now...
I don’t care who you love or even how...
I don’t care if you’re happy...
Sure don’t care if you’re sad...

I don’t care where you go from now...
I don’t care who you love or even how...
I don’t care if you’re happy...
Sure don’t care if you’re sad...
I don’t care what you want..
I don't care what you had...
I don’t care if you're not a virgin anymore..
I don't care....what should I care for?
I don’t care if you have a girlfriend...
I don't care if she’s in love...
I don’t care if you’re pretending...
I don't care if push has come to shove...
Read my glossy pink lips!
I don't give a crap...
If you fall of a bridge!
I don’t give a crap if you’re stuck on a ledge...I’d let you hang because I don't care!
I don't care that you left me... Because that was your mistake...
I don’t care that you’re stupid for God's sake!
Geez get it through your stupid brain...
I don’t get butterflies off your name!
Read my lips... And be aware...
Sweetheart I no longer care!
Hear it once there’s no playback...
Anything concerning you....
I don’t give a crap!
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A Rhapsody Of Empowerment
- By Vaishali Vishnukandan
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2018 with permission of the Author.
It is all about encouraging a women to come out of her cage and work for upliftment.

Empowerment Of Women

in Poems about Life Struggles

Come on, women!
Must rise to the challenges
Of your enhanced responsibilities.

Come on, women!
Must rise to the challenges
Of your enhanced responsibilities.

Yes!

We are already stronger.
Never feel blue.
Break the myth.
No force can barricade a determined woman.

Come out of your cage.
Bear the pain
Like you do the stilettos.

Wear your elegance every day.
Start rummaging for your upliftment.
Miles to reach acme.

Heads up, women!

Don't fear the fire.
Be the fire!
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Change Is All
- By Olivia Libby
- Published by Family Friend Poems May 2011 with permission of the Author.
Nobody knows what I go through. I just can't put it in words. Be a friend and help somebody today. When you see a kid sitting alone, go and sit by them. It really does make a difference! Probably nobody will ever see this side of me. But whoever reads this, thank you so much just for reading this. At least I know somebody cared a little.

Be A Friend And Change Someone's World

in Alone Poems

No one will ever know how I feel,
For I cannot even explain it all.
Nobody to love,
Nobody to blame,

No one will ever know how I feel,
For I cannot even explain it all.
Nobody to love,
Nobody to blame,
Everyone always the same.
Nothing to care about,
No reason to lie,
For I am me, myself, and I.
No one sees what I see,
Nobody left to care for me.
It's kind of sad knowing what's true,
'Cause then you know who's there for you.
Most of them just put on that act.
A lot of them talk bad about me behind my back.
Thanks for making me feel this way,
There's nothing more I should have to say.
All the times I was alone
Makes me feel weird when someone's home.
No family for support, no friends to care.
People wonder why I don't go anywhere.
Every night crying myself to sleep,
Sometimes I wish someone loved me.
No hope, no love, no life, no friends.
The pain never ends.
Sometimes I ask what did I do to deserve this.
But nobody answers.
A voice in my head tells me to forget the bad and remember good.
But then I answer to myself saying there is no good to remember.
I always yell at myself asking why me? Why?
Sitting in a empty spare room.
No one to talk to about how I feel.
No one to ask me what I feel.
Is anyone out there in this harsh world we live in?
Sometimes I begin to wonder.
Sometimes I'm harsh on myself.
Morn comes and I wake up wishing I was never born.
Please help others, because today's lives
Are being taken out of this world just as easy as they are coming in.
You can change someone's life.
Make a change.
It's a tough world.
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All I can say about this poem is "me." Thank you for sharing your story. Felt every word of it. I believe in doing the exact thing. Go help someone that's tormenting themselves. People who...

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A Lot Of Anger
- By Julia Docking
- Published by Family Friend Poems February 2010 with permission of the Author.
I wrote this because I was tired of people judging me without knowing me.

Who I Really Am Poem

in Compassion Poems

I ache with this...
words scream out of my mouth with no meaning.
No sounds compare to the things I seem to say.
I am sorry.

I ache with this...
words scream out of my mouth with no meaning.
No sounds compare to the things I seem to say.
I am sorry.
It is never as mean as it seems to be,
although my disparity wilts this rose.
Unfortunately I cannot soak up all the positivity that sways my way.
This is not me.
Anger does not fill these young veins.
Hatred should not live in my bewildered heart.
Never should I have endured this pitiful feeling,
this feeling that holds me back so much.
With wild acts of my virtue,
I open my arms because no one knows the truth.

So let me show you me!

I sing because I love to.
I write because it is my passion
I love too easily,
and I forgive others before I forgive myself.
I hate not knowing what the future brings,
yet it spikes my curiosity.
I get shy, but never for too long.
I want others to feel my difference.
I seek the diversity in life,
and I embrace all that meets my face.

I am sorry those of you who do not know me.
Life never ends,
and there is plenty of time
for all to see the reality of it all.
Let me smile for every reason and not just one.
Let me speak without hesitation in my voice.
Let me be who I am without judgment of our cruel society.
Let me yell out loud and have all join me because we are all one.
So put the past behind and look forward to what tomorrow has to offer.
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This poem touched me a lot. Coming from an abusive home, I did not know anything about myself, wasn't taught anything, wasn't loved or cared for. I was neglected, left to fend for myself. It...

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Free Verse Poems

16 Examples Of Free Verse Poems From Modern And Famous Poets

Langston Hughes was a prominent writer during the Harlem Renaissance. In this poem, a mother uses the metaphor of life being like a staircase to give advice to her son. While there are difficult times, you must keep moving like you would while walking up a staircase.

I was reading some poetry online, and I saw a poem that a disabled boy wrote. It inspired me to write this because many people think that disabled people cannot think or write as well as people without disabilities, which is not true at all.

This poem is about my struggle with depression and a hope that I will be able to leave all the grief behind and find happiness in the days to come.

It is all about encouraging a women to come out of her cage and work for upliftment.

I wrote this because I was tired of people judging me without knowing me.