I have been writing poetry for twenty years. Best poems and poets of 2004 International Library of Congress.Google/AdSense, Hubpages Author
The History of Free verse Poetry
Free verse, term loosely used for rhymed or unrhymed verse made free of conventional and traditional limitations and restrictions in regard to metrical structure. Cadence, especially that of common speech, is often substituted for regular metrical pattern. Free verse is a literal translation of the French vers libre, which originated in late 19th-century France among poets, such as Arthur Rimbaud and Jules Laforgue, who sought to free poetry from the metrical regularity of the alexandrine. The term has also been applied by modern literary critics to the King James translation of the Bible, particularly the Song of Solomon and the Psalms, to certain poems of Matthew Arnold, and to the irregular poetry of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. The form is also closely associated with English and American poets of the 20th cent. who sought greater liberty in verse structure, including Ezra Pound, T.
Free verse, poetry organized to the cadences of speech and image patterns rather than according to a regular metrical scheme. It is “free” only in a relative sense. It does not have the steady, abstract rhythem of traditional poetry; its rhythms are based on patterned elements such as sounds, words, phrases, sentences, and paragraphs, rather than on the traditional prosodic units of metrical feet per line. Free verse, therefore, eliminates much of the artificiality and some of the aesthetic distance of poetic expression and substitutes a flexible formal organization suited to the modern idiom and more casual tonality of the language.
Although the term is loosely applied to the poetry of Walt Whitman and even earlier experiments with irregular metres, it was originally a literal translation of vers libre (q.v.), the name of a movement that originated in France in the 1880s. Free verse became current in English poetics in the early 20th century. The first English-language poets to be influenced by vers libre, notably T.E. Hulme, F.S. Flint, Richard Aldington, Ezra Pound, and T.S. Eliot, were students of French poetry. The Imagist movement, started in England in 1912 by Aldington, Pound, Flint, and Hilda Doolittle (“H.D.”), was concerned with more than versification, but one of its principles was “to compose in sequence of the musical phrase, not in sequence of the metronome.” Almost from the beginning, the free-verse movement split into two groups, one led by Amy Lowell and a more formal one led by Pound. Eliot’s early experimentations with free verse influenced the loosening of formal metrical structures in English-language poetry. Carl Sandberg William Carlos Williams, Marianne Moore, and Wallce Stevens all wrote some variety of free verse; the versification of Williams and Moore most closely resembles that of the vers libre poets of France.
Read and relax w/ classical beethoven
I have an unbearable thirst for knowledge,
like a person in a course at a solid college.
An extreme major in the arts of rhyme.
A professional wordsmith one lesson at a time.
I assume lead role with a bowling ball mind,
so at anytime my mind be able to define a chosen line.
If you don't do your homework,
unfortunately, you will fall behind,
of a craft stabilized while I am alive.
From every single line,
I let stench the crevices of time.
Every second that pass or occur,
another word be knitted into depths of my soul.
Waiting to glow,
with a priceless glare like Gold.
Thoughts remaining forever; told.
Thrown into kindle,
the Aries charcoal that burn.
The poetry world will mourn,
,tell my princess, I will rejoice in being reborn.
Known as the Ram with Steel horns!
My pen is but a storm from Zeus.
Clear skies usually conclude in the end.
Sometimes though here and there,
thunderstorms rage winds without care.
I simply record data,
of natural disasters in time.
Waiting for the Big One like Mobey Dick!
I have been traveling for some time,
to find that special poem of mine.
Just how many ladders,
do I have to descend and climb?
It seems no matter the ride,
diamonds slowly come alive.
Deep in the depths of the Congo.
"Be the Lost City Of Zeng."
So the voice of several men have said,
until they find a dead end again.
Protected by Gorillas with a firm head.
Never allowing the theft,
of any diamond or Gem.
that seriously don't pretend.
Deep inside my dark brown eyes,
be a massive diamond lost in time.
So words tend to burn the rectums of a reader's eye.
Until the day,
they have no air to breath and die.
It's protected by an ancient Aries fire inside.
Never allowed to loose lust at anytime.
So beyond the typical horizons,
of the normal human being mind!
I am setting out like Perseus,
to fulfill my destiny over adversity.
When I stumble or fall asleep,
my father In heaven lift me to one knee.
like an Angel, eternally.
My Heart and love,
is like the Bermuda Triangle.
Access be granted to few,
yet, if somehow you do intrude,
there is no escaping your doom!
The stories are true,
a monster can be seen inside,
only if you try to leave or lie.
I will release the Kraken.
My eyes be on fire,
as you taste the tears I have cried.
Salty, bitter and sweet times five!
After it does its job,
it return behind the bars,
sealed like my heart,
twenty-four seven like Fort Knox.
Inside a shine of beauty and fortune await.
Unfortunately, there be no escape
In a leprechaun kind of way.
My swagger wreaks of a Gods sweat.
The stench of my father I truly never met.
It's from experience,
beyond the greatest veteran.
Allowing my mind,
to break words down without exception.
They gather to form a stanza,
driving the impatient crowd bananas!
Toying with my Aries emotions,
results in a sudden volcano explosion.
It makes words to rise,
from the core of my heart.
Shooting out beauty,
only to rest like magma.
In the brain,
of every reader's mind that read.
A permanent fixture of natural raw ability,
that can be remembered by its time of activity!
I stand 5'9 with a chin high,
149 lbs holding my ground.
When I decide to sound,
my echo stir the meadows that surround.
A mighty Titan evolve,
nullifying my weight and height.
Just a Godly beautiful sight,
with no words to describe the might!
Leader of the Pack
The world need a hero,
to inspire pure desire into souls.
I am a warrior,
very confident and bold!
I would ride through the pack,
with all my troops weight on my back,
attacking the other so called best in a snap.
As an army of words hold the line,
make no mistake I am a LION!
Like Achillees' proclaim,
this is why you will remember my name!
Though I be impossible to tame..
How many battles will poetry win,
by the tip of my pen in the bloody end?
Forever indenting my name,
to last through passing decades.
A true Man,
knows he is the best.
just try an get by; contest.
If you stare deep into my eyes,
a star can be captured inside!
It's from yearning to be the best,
as everything feels like a test.
You could say I am a special breed,
regardless of the obstacle I succeed.
I've met the Devil on floor thirteen,
battled like the almighty Achilles',
showing natural raw abilities!
I've seen all the old sophistries,
Aerostatles' dream master could give me.
I shined the heavenly lights in his eyes,
So Evil shall see itself,
And it shall die!
The Last Piece
My mind be a million piece design,
it trigger my heart to bleed then recover In time.
adding another missing piece to the puzzle of mine!
As days drift by I remain humble,
I just rumble at phenomenal pace.
Leaving the human race to wonder,
how a person have so many thoughts that race.
Poetry is my territory; My Space.
On the last day my soul unwind,
the golden pointers will stop in time,
as one of the greatest writers known to mankind; die.
I'll Make You Famous
When my Aries soul blaze out of control,
the fire burns on top fifty billion pieces of coal.
Smoking, signaling words,
to blur a face like mase to be sure.
So, like fire all the non believers,
fall to a knee simply unable to breath.
For too long my beauty remain hidden,
like a Blue Jay the human eye's never see!
All of my intelligence has come forth,
Gods' direction eventually taking its course.
Steady, I ride like Billy the kid in time,
gaining a rep as being heinous while alive.
I'll make you famous,
if you scar my mind's canvas.
Like and AK-47,
I will turn you into a Swiss sandwich!
Most are not fortuitous enough,
to have a pure heart of stone.
Setting a remarkable pace and flow.
Even if they did,
their mind wouldn't know.
Exactly how to perfectly create a poem.
Even an elephant lay down,
as an army of ants proceed to surround.
They walk all over it into the ground!
Like the last breath just before you drown,
I make a reader grasp for air, heaven bound.
Poetic art after dark
When I die,
my friends will tremendously morn.
For Who else,
can mend words endlessly,
give life with stupendous meaning,
bleeding from the core of my heart.
When my soul be captured,
reborn in the heavenly lights,
I shall recite the light of Poetic Art.
In a variety of bunches like a shopping cart.
Only this time,
I am not checking out!
Everyday I practice with my pen,
like Achilles the mythical swordsmen.
that speak eternally in the end.
A mixture of strength and love
to carry on when I am dead.
The Legend,The Myth,
A heavenly God given gift!
Creating beauty in with every inch,
of rhyme I design on white paper line.
The Buzz of Glory,
when I die shall spread wide,
hosting the greatest minds ever alive.
Diamond In The Ruff
There is no denying,
I am the king of the wild.
Other roar but it sound of mild.
My passion sound for miles,
echoing the meadows wide.
True confidence and bravery,
that will be taken to the grave with me.
A real life of pain and agony,
in every way the mind could imagine thee.
I am not pefect,
nor' worth bundles of money.
Yet, funny enough,
my heart is rich like honey.
A riddle riddled my brain.
As I doodled,
it pours out like rain.
Smart, separated apart,
writing poetry since my birth; start.
Journeying to the center of the earth,
be a yearning to do since birth, cursed!
Bless me father,
glide my pen with your grace.
I woke up this morning, ready,
to fill the world with taste.
Show them my rhythm
without a face to see.
Let the flow go
like continental drift in the Sea.
Life is a puzzle
with a distorted picture.
Pieces come together
forming a permanent picture.
Love was the original foundation
to building this picture perfect fixture!
Bless me father
in the heart of my chest.
Give me the strength
to follow my dreams,
being at my best!
Until I die,
I will try,
giving it my all.
Using all the wisdom
you allow me to obtain;
I will Indent my legacy
Into Poetry terrain!
Laboratory Of Words
Deep in my mind
I select words one at a time.
Inside my hearts circulatory
flow exceptional word vocabulary.
My mind is now an experimental laboratory!
Grief seize marching for me,
resided an eternity it seemed.
His placement was naked to the eye;
Until the tears wept create a new Ocean outside!
Like dew wiggle down a leaf,
the tears dribble off my cheeks.
I would cry until my eyes close to sleep;
Drained dead tired left with no tears to weep!
Contemplating, my mind catch wind of a thought.
Suddenly, a fly whiz by sitting on my entirety of thoughts.
Sixteen hundred eyes, now viewing my poetic art.
Yet, one simple mind is surely easier to spark!
My pen is an extension from my heart.
People ponder my pure rhyming ability and Poetic Art.
From the start I just wanted to be normal.
Then, I figured out the ingredients on how to be Immortal.
I step into a portal like Eminem and give inspiration to all.
The Lyrical Poet God will watch over you!
The difference between ordinary and great,
is to the ability to poetically articulate.
My Aries sould can't stop designing.
The heavenly stars are slowly aligning.
Inside the anticipation build up,
like a volcano slowly erupt.
I try to keep it in control,
like the T-Virus Albert Wesker stole.
It just fights me possession and control!
Deep inside burning alive,
is an Aries fire leading the pure desire.
Every stroke of my pen,
is with desire and perfection.
In my head words are relayed,
just like a phone extension.
A tendency of my thought waves,
is to recite poetry again an again.
Lyrical poetry became no problem.
Now, I recite words as if I was God sent.
Master Of The Art
Circulation throughout the mind,
forms a masterpiece dangerous by design.
To add blood flowing with determination,
creates a human being to exceed common expectations.
I push unbelievable thought rotation to sound off.
Only to reach inconceivable numbers,
like setting records at a course in golf.
Endless drafts inside my poetry craft,
provides the aftermath to surpass any task.
My freedom of speech leaves an indelible mark,
in the history of writing known to mankind.
Every night I wish from far,
upon on a star where you are.
Just a glimpse of an angels face,
is so slow motion like doves peaceful grace.
Your touch be my crutch,
when times grow tough and grey.
Inside my veins flow your love,
gathering me up whole like a stack of hay.
Your voice be a stain in my brain,
like the cold November rain.
Somewhere in my heart,
it is the remedy to you being away.
Every memory is embraced in my heart.
Forever regardless of how far apart!
I heard a Robin chirp a song,
all day long to the rhythm of my pen.
The melody behind the deaf,
every time a sentence come to an end.
From start and around each bend,
everything extend from my heart.
Every single stroke,
perfect, like a Masterpiece of Picasso art.
My mind is sharp as an Eagles eye,
anytime I position words onto blank lines.
I just observe from a highly enlightened place.
I see my prey as a poet,
paper, then I dive in for a taste.
Dreaming is close,
to the sweet red apple,
that dangle high in a tree,
at the peak of a bee.
Or the quickest tadpole,
surging the stream,
hard to catch,
like a mean crawl fish be.
If you believe,
that you can achieve,
no dream is impossible to conceive.
Poetry In Motion
A single notion,
from a nimble young man.
Causes poetry in motion,
by the devotion of his crafting hand.
Pieced together perfection,
boundless, like an orange sunset reflection.
In a perplexing mind.
Design a picture,
at any selected moment in time.
It can unwind a professional,
to create permanent fixtures in a reader's mind!
Your glorification is fabricated with hay.
Formulated by a past tide of events gone stray.
For all one is worth I plight troth,
you could not visualize the pain languished.
The suffering has set the tone,
to portray your artificial core is stone.
How much more courageous can you be?
Portraying a picture of make believe!
In the deep depths of my eyes,
lies all the pain from past times inside.
Every tear from each cry,
stain paper with a poetic cry.
Potent poetry becomes alive,
in the remoteness of my mind.
Each idea leisurely unwind,
creating masterpieces one word at a time.
A diamond, in an over populated world,
depriving me of the respect I deserve!
God can concur,
for he has heard and observed all.
A shine blinds the eye,
glisten, every time a word is positioned.
Listened, since poetry was born,
knows me as a malicious poetic storm.
This is my petition,
I am the heart and core,
of the Lyrical rhyming poetry world!
Runt of the litter
No other can write,
the incite my pen tends to ignite.
A sight is brighter,
then, the lights of Heaven.
For the Gods even know,
the strength of my words,
be the likes of three sevens!
A mighty Titan around people,
is surely easy to observe.
Yet, when they size me up,
they are in for a surprise of course!
The Lord has given,
his luscious world so much diversity.
Yet, his people still can't cooperate,
with money and power causing adversity.
for them to not realize,
greed and envy be checked,
at the great gates upon entrance.
Once a word is spoken,
It dies only later to be awoken.
Evoked by every thought,
that provoke my pen.
We will meet again my friend,
for I tend to write from day to night.
So, enjoy your day,
then, have a nice night!
Sweat and tears,
possess the mind,
to surpass the rest.
through my veins,
disguised with words,
pure as rain.
The brain bleeds,
leaking my pen,
molding blank paper,
into a gem in the end.
Of a different breed,
a blend unknown.
in a class of my own.
I have a Dream
Nobody can ever replace,
what they eventually stole.
So, I let God in,
to fill the empty wholes.
Now, I am God's little foot soldier on patrol.
Peasant Aladdin showing,
the writing Poetry is not a dead end goal!
I had a dream to behold.
My family wearing the crown,
with jewelry, money and gold.
Now, is the time,
to let the world show.
My glow will touch the world,
like the King Midas touch, behold!
Indelible mark II
Please Lord, give me the patience,
to record the feelings of my heart in length.
Allow simple blank lines,
to be a sanctuary of mine with strength.
Provide me with ample time,
to indent my name in time.
The history books,
hearts and minds of all mankind.
The Golden Boy
Step into my zone,
where reality is really nothing but a clone.
It is silly to believe,
I could write a recited known poem.
Then, I became hungry,
just to show them.
I reach deep down,
with all my might to provoke my skill.
So, I might will myself,
to write from day to night,
now my speech is godly like.
I pushed until perfection came.
Now everything I say,
comes off in an infectious way.
Forever And Always
My only ambition,
is to write insight from visions in life.
I came to a decision
to write poetry for a living,
except, things were tight.
Knowledge is infinitely giving.
From now until death,
so, I always listen.
To help my mind shine and glisten,
positioning word into composition.
I feel so important and rare,
as if I were distilled and made with care.
Yet, I feel so very little,
like just another pickle inside a jar.
So, I wished upon a star so very far away.
That a boy like me,
turn a dream into reality!
Very intelligent beyond my years.
I can reach into a well,
of intelligence to switch gears.
I contain various styles, so,
I never become too stagnant for a while.
Lightening speed and agility,
it is frightening to see until people accept humility.
Master designer with astounding ability.
The greatest of all time,
to poetically speak instinctively.
Every day, someway I receive praise,
leaving me completely amazed.
I remember days being lost,
in a phase that never paid.
These days, I polish my skills,
feeding my brain with knowledge at will.
Remaining in the prime,
only looking to build.
Many people tend to grab a friend,
to go out for the day and engage.
I tend to lend an ear to my pen,
so, we can negotiate in different ways.
When I hold a writing utensil,
my potential becomes exceptional.
When every thought plays its part,
I create perfect poetic rhyming art.
Like a doctor,
I make my incision onto paper.
My words bring people together like a stapler.
I am a cornerstone to art.
I contain more variety than a shopping cart.
I give at least an hour a day,
for my mind to grow and play!
Whether it be a singer or rapper,
an inspiring actress or actor,
even a comedian or local contractor.
All will tell you something happened.
Some type of chemical reaction occur,
allowing it to happen for him or her.
You could call it maxing out or a peak.
The best at the time or ever some will speak.
Soaring them to stardom touching their prime.
Ninety-nine percent slowly decline,
for there is not enough strength in their lifeline,
of pain and beauty to maintain perfect continuity.
My mind design is of epic proportions,
like Albert Einstein it never stopped morphing.
Forever creating controversy like Abortion,
as being the best in his craft unless extortion!
Words are stuck deep down in my gullet,
waiting for my brain to search through culling it.
The perfect words be selected like produce,
inducing my mind to produce masterpieces.
Slowly but perfect,
so definitely worth it!
My mind is unlike the common design,
for it unwind poetic words that rhyme,
filling blank line right before the eyes.
At any time the Aries wick is sparked,
bonding with words creating poetic art.
Showing the pattern to my Aries heart!
I have a routine,
so serene, perfect and pristine.
It breeds excellence,
always allowing me to succeed.
So one lonely day,
I started to believe.
Maybe, I could do anything,
If I truly want to achieve.
All I have to give,
to the world is my poetry.
Perhaps, one day,
people will know of me.
This article is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge. Content is for informational or entertainment purposes only and does not substitute for personal counsel or professional advice in business, financial, legal, or technical matters.
© 2011 Ryan Christopher Beitler
chanroth from California, USA on July 23, 2011:
wonderfully written. I like the very beginning. you are very good at rhyme. I can feel the rhythm in your poetry. Nice done :)