Deep Free Verse Poems

I was turning the bed—
knife-deep in dirt when I felt it:
that ache in the wrists
from too much tending.
And there she was again—
not in the muscle,
in...

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Self-discovery
I have been robbed of the joy well deserved,
The golden confidence beneath,
The inner peace.
I have been robbed of a voice, treasured
Caged, and echoing behind my...

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I am like the giving tree,
ready to tear myself apart,
letting him seep into every fragment of me.

I carry the weight of him—
swirling in the depths...

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Many years ago, I had gone to Pakistan for a poets’ conference.  
They call it a “Shaayari Majlis” there.  
The behavior of the...

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Within every writer's soul
is an untold roll,
rolling along the shadows,
secretly desperately seeking
the glow above the darkness
that gave it life in the first place...

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In the labyrinth of my thoughts, an endless waltz of shadows,
I step on the edges of my soul, where angels shed feathers of memories,
their wings,...

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Fog over the inlet
until water and air waltz together.
colds ears muffled by the dank air.
Grebes and Coots colonize this tributary.
The ocean is close
you can feel...

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Author Dana Redricks 
April 25, 2025

The questions that flood my mind. Who am I, what is my purpose, and where do I belong? I know...

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Author  Dana Redricks  
April 25, 2025

How do I decide, when the path splits in two, when the steps I might take could erase...

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Chemo, Puberty & the Fourth Watch

by Patrick Cornwall

Wake up—rush for the toilet, say my prayers.
Stomach races, chasing bowels,
anxious like horses shot from a gate.

Chemo, the...

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The ground trembles not with tectonic shift,
but with the weight of undeclared wealth,
the silent accretion in offshore accounts,
a pressure building beneath the veneer of governance.

Whispers...

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Old man hands, rope-bitten, tough as reef—
Cast out hope with each line’s heave.
Dawn broke red over Gulf Stream bone,
The sea, she whispered, leave it alone.

Tug....

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At 3:00am I found myself outside,
Mind was awake but flesh was in deep deep sleep,
A sense of ghostly presence-I couldn't see.
A heavy shadow weighed upon...

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the bones are the first to know,
they hum a low dirge,
like a bass line in a dying bar,
deep under the skin’s slow retreat.

blood stumbles in...

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They say life slips through our fingers,
but I think it slips through our toes,
for you never know the day you might...
wrong a right
dye your hair...

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