Free Verse

Doesn't follow iambic pentameter and has no specific form except that it is recognizable as a poem.


Trance Emotions

Moving, twising, flowing; it's all part of the dance.
"I'm in love with the DJ. Till you know, play my song Mr. DJ."
Twisting and curling your fingers and hands,
Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Light and colors are everywhere.
Your brain rushes along with your heart.
You feel shivers and sweat at the same time.
Your eyes never stop moving.
There's nothing like that particular rush.
You're happy; you feel like you could do anything,
And you could.
Nothing can stop you.
You're on top of the world.
Welcome to the delights of ecstacy.
"This is a journey into trance, this is a journey into trance..."
You close your eyes and sway your head lightly.
Hearing these incredible sounds,
Weave through your thoughts and realities is indescribable.
It makes you happy.
It makes you want to move.
It makes you want to dance.
Welcome to the delights of ecstasy.
"The bass, the beats, the melody. I can hear the melody, listen to my harmony."
It sends you into a literal trance.
Maybe it's just a state of mind.
How do you know?
It's all relative, different from person to person.
You unconciously curl and uncurl your fingers,
Moving them in those cursed raving motions.
Or you hit the nearst hard surface,
And tap out that addicting beat.
Welcome to the delights of ecstacy.

SENRYU

5-7-5, three-line with an open subject, inculding the human side of existance, subjective viewpoint, and incorporating at times, even humor and political content.

Pushing for ruin,
In this, our mighty country.
The journey will end.

ACROSTICS

Acrostic is defined as a short verse composition, so constructed that the initial letters of the lines, taken consecutively, form words. Acrostic may or may not rhyme.

Lifting you up
Outside the limits of your mind.
Vaulting you into the clouds;
Everything is wonderful.
Is evil or dark dispair possible?
Should I be worried?
He gives me no fears;
Everything is going to be wonderful.
At the least notice,
Round and round your world spins.
Tomorrow has to be better,
But everything only gets worse.
Realizing your worst fears;
Everything was once wonderful,
Always wondering if you will be sane again,
Knowing that your feelings are forever tainted.



Being the greatest, or so she thought .
It shows who she really is.
The evil gleam in her eyes,
Caught in the act;
Her reputaion fixed forever.

Poem Types

I can't figure out 4 types to pick from because in general, poetry is not to my liking. However, I have chosen 2 forms: haiku and tanka.

Horror: My Happy Place, Pt. II

He came back. Mother was at home with James and I. She answered the knock on the front door. I looked around the doorway from the kitchen, and saw him stab her with a long metal dagger with a garnet on the pommel. He was ragged, thin, and gaunt. His hair was stringy; his clothing had numerous holes, was torn up, and was wet, dripping droplets onto the hardwood floor where only a few weeks earlier it had felt my mother’s tears. I ran to my room, opened the door to my closet, and climbed up onto the to shelf to open the ceiling panel to the attic. I huddled in there, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t think to come looking for me. I heard him crashing around the house and loud banging on a door. Then, to my horror, I heard James scream. It was cut off quickly. My tears overflowed my eyes and spilled onto the floor of the attic. Was this house so cursed that it had to have tears shed in every part of it?
I waited, numbly, until the house was quiet. I couldn’t even move if I wanted to. Slowly, I regained control of my body, and I crawled out of my hiding spot. My door was open, but my room was untouched. I walked through the hall to my brother’s room, saw him lying there, and rushed to kneel by his side. His eyes were open but not seeing, his mouth open but not breathing, his fingers curled into fists but hitting nothing. His throat had a long slash across it, dark red and crusting over with drying blood. Only a single tear fell onto his upturned face. I stood and ran to the front hall where Mother had been. She was lying in a similar position to James, her eyes closed. Except for the horrible gaping cut on her neck and the terrible look of pain on her face, she could have been sleeping. Once again, only one tear made its way down my cheek and plopped onto the floor. I had cried myself dry.
I went to my parents’ room, and found that the dresser had been completely torn apart in my father’s attempt to find whatever he was looking for. I found a crumpled-up, bloodstained paper on the floor. I bent down to examine it, and found it to be a letter to my father. It was a suicide note from someone named Carla, saying how she couldn’t bear to live with the thought that she had turned him into the monster that he was with all the drugs.
I sat there, stunned. This was the reason my father was such a horrible monster? It all suddenly made sense: the yelling, the complete obedience he expected, the paranoia, and the mood swings. I went to the garage, grabbed a hatchet, and went out the front door. There he was, waiting for me, at the end of the sidewalk. We looked at each other, and then he turned and ran. I gave chase, but I couldn’t catch up. In a last attempt, I threw the hatchet, and it landed square in his back. He dropped his knife. I ran to pick it up, and impaled the back of his neck. I heard it crack; my nightmare could finally be over.

Sci-fi Attempt

I was standing at the window, looking at nothing in particular.The birds flying, the cars driving, the trees swaying in the breeze, it was all stopped instantly. Nothing moved; everything was as if it had been cast and set there as if it belonged there and nowhere else. Only I was mobile. Astoundedly, I looked up into the sky, and even the clouds weren't moving. I noticed that there was an odd discoloration almost directly over my house, a violet-colored hole. As I watched, it got bigger and bigger until it grew to the size of a car.