Free Verse-ish

Let it be known, I hate writing free-verse with a burning passion. But, when a poem calls, I must write it. This is a collection of such poems.

(Rating for eventual language.)


17. Diecisiete

She paints melodies

On hallowed walls,

But no one can listen

To her disenchanted

Songs. No one can

Hear the broken

Words escaping from

Bloodied lips.


He sings masterpieces

To the deaf masses,

But no one can see

The beauty of his

Faltering words.

No one can

Hear the genius

Through the

Quiet mind.

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