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Prose Poetry Angel Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Angel

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

She read me Dr Seuss

6:35 A.M.

Sunrise against my neck
that no cheap tan booth could ever match.

I ring the doorbell in anticipation of joy’s injection.

I needed it.

Because I left my cell phone in the car,
as I didn’t want to hear any chimed email
or text annoyances.

And the car just got cleaned,
only for the birds to have their way
on its waxy shine.

Bastards!

Time to grab the flamethrower from my trunk!

But, before I could scream in Braveheart declaration,
there she was.

Her 6 yr old smile,
made of 1/4 inch gaps between innocence enamel,
captured me like no other could.

“Tio”, she preached in angelica sonata.

As she held me,
held me,
with puppy love warmth.

Even the rainbows fell to its knees.

She took off my jacket with ferret-like perkiness and
asked me to sit on the floor with her.

But, not before offering to toast me some Eggo waffles
with a big glass of Ovaltine…
…in her Little Mermaid glass,
proudly made in North Korea.

It even had the dictator’s initials and a bucktooth smiley face stamp, signed in glitter
that said:
“Kid-safe”.

Thank God I just took my online course in Child Safety.
I was ready!

As I sip on Little Mermaid’s curves,
shaped in plastic, swirly straw weirdness,
a sound blasts off from a Barbie radio.

My 2 yr old angel galloped into this heart of mine,
with Tinnitus piercing scream & laughter,
tackling me in Incredible Hulk lunge.

“Hi Tio”, she whispered, before she hopped back upstairs, 
Ninja Turtle-style,
laughing maniacally with rapid head tilts, left to right to left.

Boys will fear her. 
And I couldn’t be more proud.

After two moments of silence, 
my 6 yr old angel places her Dr. Seuss book on my lap,
as she sits in front of me.

“I can r-r-read
with my eye-s
shut.”

She carefully completed the sentence,
as my eyes instantly fill with leaky pride
and an ingrained smile.

10 minutes later, she shut her book and asked me how she did.
“I am so proud of you my angel.”
“You have come so far.”

I had to hold back tears because I didn’t want to throw her off.
Yet I think she knew,
because she kept her head down and smiled with gentle starburst.

Mission accomplished.

And it was then where I heard her say,
“Those who matter don’t mind,
those who mind don’t matter.”

But she was quiet, looking at me with tilted head & smile.

For it was my inner child, 
speaking
clear.

© Drake J. Eszes


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beautiful people

People make me smile the way 
their eyes shine when they talk 
about something they love 
when they feed me food. Or tell 
me how much they love me 
when I look into someone's 
eyes and see it I see that look 
in their eyes I see love in them 
When I see someone laugh and 
have fun in what they do 
The way they cry for there lost 
ones
When they give me a smile and 
tell me how beautiful I am 
People are beautiful well some 
are and I wish someday I can 
find someone who will look at 
me and say "you have that look 
in your eye"    what look?
"Happiness" 
I want to find someone so 
beautiful in the inside I can't 
stay away they amaze me with 
what they say an do how they 
will dance in the rain and know 
every detail about me
Will bring me Starbucks on a 
rainy day and just talk about 
the stars 
I want someone beautiful


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Enjoying Love So Undeserving

What sustains Life like water? What is as fresh and welcoming like the countryside? And as sweet as a newly made confectionery baked with honey? I just found one well placed in all corners of your heart. A feeling encompassing the goodness of life. Is it the blissful visitation to the tenants of the deep blue sea? Or a radiant rainbow floating in the moist skies? Is it red roses, milk Sunflowers and other colorful plants in pink, green and yellow? Or the site of a happy set of little quintuplet siblings? Is it the baby chicks peeping out from their nest to spy on the first morning rising sun? They all are no where near the unbelievable goodness of your love. Sweetheart! You are a majestic glamor full of gracious providence. Not even the magneting beauty of the Queen Cleopatra can be compared to the pillars of your virtues which prove to overcome time's curfew eclipsing my heart totally as I soak in the foam of your passions. A natural habitat have I found in the gardens of your affection and a new existence from the deep baptism of your unequaled care. I never believed a star could be as near but here I am; with a being who outshines a galaxy. My soul has lost records of its bountiful happiness from this train of love with the wish its rails are never ending and its journey, everlasting.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Smile

Kill a smile with a kiss
The demise of it will visit you in your dreams
Never will I let you
Drown in a pool of angry thoughts
I will be your unexpected smile
Every time I bring u roses b4 valentine
A wet poem I would recite for you

I would make you my 1st rhyme
your heart-beat will rhyme
Twist my beat box
Into a love song
A cartoon I would paint in your heart to keep you smiling
Your twin smiles I would define in vernacular
Though I speak no language from Peninsula
My parents will define your beauty as African splendor
Black mother nation
Smile please smile


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I want you to know

I know a girl more broken than the aftermath of a bull in a china shop. She knows that her pain wont stop, so instead of trying to fix that, she only ever tries to make others happy. She puts everyone above herself and if life was a shelf shed be the ground. The most common sound escaping her lips is sorry. She cries herself to sleep every night, she has cuts on her arms as if too tally up all the hate she receives daily and if she could pay the bills in blood she would be able to afford a living. Lately all she's been doing is forgiving. 

	I want you to know that it's always darkest before the dawn, so if you have to wait another hour for the sun to rise, I will sit beside you with a watch and a red bull the size that two people need to keep them up just long enough to fall asleep together. If the weather is on our side or not, I will stay just to make sure you know you stay up long enough for that sun to rise. It's not a surprise when it does, and if it means you've gone a day without painting in blood, I will do what it takes to keep you from it another day. I suppose what I mean to say is;  

	Put it down. Just pretend its not there; let it disappear into thin air without a hair of a trace, because all it ever does is hurt you. those cuts mark the scars of your pain that will never fade. Cut into your skin, you don't remember the beginning, but you can find the end. Send a message to all the people that made you start, you're a work of art that just has a splatter; it doesn't matter, you can paint over it. Just sit down and look around you. You've built so many walls. You're trapped in a labyrinth made to keep people out but in turn you've locked yourself in. You can't climb the walls, all you hear is the echoed calls of your pain. 

	If you search for a while, maybe you'll find another face trapped in their own maze and you'll both smile; because it's comforting to know that you're not alone. Maybe that person you meet can give you a boost over your wall so you land feet first in grass. You don't need to ask, they're still there; trapped in the maze. Its sad how the price of happiness is almost always someone else's pain.

	PART ONE


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Princess

Princess
Darkness all around, nothing visible,
All hopes down, nothing seemed feasible,
As i sat in an empty room full of thoughts,
Where actually i went wrong?
Answers for these questions i sought. 

I missed, i cared, i excessively loved you,
To the height of madness, obsessively adored you,
The beautiful eyes, the luscious thick black hair, 
Admired you so much, your softness so rare.

From the moment i woke to the time i slept,
Eat, smiled, laughed with you and even wept, 
All the time i wanted you with me,
Even if it is a little time i get free.

Initially u loved my maniac behavior,
All the time YOU, my madness never a failure,
Slowly you began to push me away, 
And started complaining about me in every way. 
''Possesive, angry, height of banishing freedom,
I feel like a princess imprisoned in a kingdom!
You dont understand me whatsoever,
My thoughts and views are nothing to you but haver. 
Don’t stick to me day and night please,
 I want my space for the stress to release. 

A gush of sorrow flowed through my heart,
In pieces it shattered and scattered apart,
Where was i wrong, i began to wonder?
Was loving too much, a point to ponder?
I only loved you with sky as the limit,
And wanted the best for you instead of cheap tricks and gimmicks, 
With a hope that you would be only mine,
As my wife and angel guarding me all life,
But your words don't show that your happy with me,
All the sacrifices i make are thus worthless indeed,
So whats the point of my loving you so crazy? 
When all you want is your space comfortable and easy? 
Am i a bot for romantic poems and care,
To cheer you up everytime and emotions to share? 
Or do you want me to love but in boundaries?
So that you have your own time and luxuries?
Or may be you want me to agree all what you say?
For your happiness each and every day, 
Because my love for you will always be infinte,
As no one can ever love you in the world as i might,
Or May be i am too dumb to know,
To love is to just bow down to the flow,
Because i want you in my life in failures and success,
Because only in you i will always see my princess.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Angel of Mundane

The lost little Angel fell into the urban slums . 
Walking aimlessly with nothing but her broken wings 
She turned herself into granules of dusts
Intangible as a vagabond and chose to be unseen

Escaped from the world of infinity, she paved her own paradise
Fell and be united with the mundane, she was breaking the dreams
Once the shield was broke, her purity shone from the filthy damn cloak
The hidden sanctity glowed, illuminated those souls who ingested by the slums

She chose the uneasy part of life
Scars were the last witness which sealed her true story
Somehow she relieved 
Somehow it changed her destiny

Tracing every stitches on her flaw wings
Slums and filth open the other side, her humanity
She was meant to be an angel 
An angel among the damned

Risen from the slums, her wings were torn
The shield of a vagabond cracked
She paid the price with mortality instead of her immortality 
To be a human is her last destiny

Note: this is the modification poem of my "Sestina" hope that you enjoy it :)

*Thanks to : Andrea Dietrich she inspired me to make this poem into a better form :D hug, Yanny


Details | Prose Poetry | |

One Cloudy Evening

It was a cloudy evening; dark as coal.
After a few cocktails, under my window
I heard a rushed grating sound as if
a knife were rubbing against asphalt.
I looked out and saw an angel with
large white wings straining his rump
against the roses trying to cut them.
As I look up, in my mirror I saw my
reflection had aged twenty years.
What has this angel done digging
into my soul... The angel retrieved
the roses and turned to see me staring
at him. I grabbed my glass of cognac 
and drank it quickly, the warmth
draining down my throat. I looked out
to see the angel again but he was gone, 
then looked into the mirror and saw that
I had regained my youth. I quickly
jumped into bed and passed out, the
next day thinking it all a dream.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Blood Moon

When I saw that blood red moon
I saw it once before in a dream where
I felt you near me, the angel of death, I abhor.
Never have I feared you since I knew you'd come
someday to claim my gruesome body that has flown astray.
A thousand tears and pleadings is why that moon is red;
it tis a living symbol of all the blood you've shed.
Add me NOT I ask you, for I don't plead you see,
God sent you here to take me and with him I do agree.
For I have toiled and tarried and crawled upon life's road
and all I've found is falsehood, a despair I've always known.
And now the light of heaven has finally seen my frame, beaten
worn and tired of this pathetic game.
Spare me angel of darkness and fear not my disdain,
for adore I do that you have come to end my life and pain.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Angels

Does the angels exist only in the stories?
Their magical wand and that golden glow
is all that just  a piece of imagination?

i searched , searched and searched
till i had found them
they werent as i imagined
yet they were gentle .

i saw the angels,
in helping heart of person,
in parents’s eyes
after fulfilling kid’s wish,
in innocent kid’s smile
on sharing things,
in mom’s tears,
in dad’s care,
in friend’s support,
in sibling’s love,
in person’s  surprise gifts,
in carefree laugh,
in playful childhood,

Angels do exist but
in different human forms,
spreading invisible magical charm
making our life magical

come on , cross your fingers
make a wish
who knows may be there
will an angel waiting to fulfill that ;)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The art of blessing


As a pediatric nurse
One may least expect 
To lead by 
Very young children
Sensing
The art of blessing.

These are not angels,
Invisible messengers
Or winged beings, but
Dying children 
Heralding
The art of blessing.

Soon after birth, Leslie 
Began dying of hemophilia,
The large general hospital
Become his second home, 
Transcending darkness around
The social taboo: death.

On the day of the inevitable 
He was four, acting forty:
Doesn't act like a little girl
Told his weeping mother
I am made of Light
Is it possible for the Light to die?

Before departing, prophesied 
Her mother will be blessed with 
Two other sons:
Only earthly angels 
Raising sick children
May share in the art of blessing


The prophesy materialized,
Both suffered the same ailment
Proclaiming:
Being the children of Light
Heralding
The art of blessing.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Epiphany At Union Station


The Station was littered and in disrepair, 
'Out Of Order' signs bore witness. 
Discarded chewing gum and empty bottles, 
and the smells emanating from unemptied 
trash baskets... and in the midst 
of all this dislocation there he was,

huddled in his wheelchair, 
his tray of trinkets proudly perched 
on a cardboard box, a makeshift table. 
Always cheerful, greeting commuters 
as they hurried past, but they never returned 
the smile forever gracing his weathered face. 

One day I stopped to say hello. 
His eyes brightened as he said 
"Good day to you, good sir!" 
Can I interest you in any of my treasures?" 
I noticed he was shoeless, sockless, 
and made a mental note. 

"Right now I have to catch a train, 
but I'll return when I have more time, 
you have my word." 
"I'll be here, this is my world, you'll 
always be most welcome!" he explained, 
as I disappeared into the teeming crowd. 

Foregoing my schedule I returned the next day, 
anxious to peruse his wares, and continue 
our conversation. It turned out he was a Vet 
who'd fallen on hard times. I sat and listened 
while he told me his story. A man displaced 
by a society who would forever be in his debt. 

"I'll be right back," I said. I had a plan. 
Returning from the store, armed with sneakers, 
socks and a sponge, I cleaned his feet, 
pulled on his socks and laced up his 
brand new Nikes. He was overwhelmed, 
and by way of payment gave me a pendant 
bearing the inscription, 'Semper Fi.' 

"This will bring you good fortune, my friend, 
wear it, and your heart will be free of strife, 
and your days will be filled with sunshine! 
Remember me and treasure it, that is all I ask." 

Next day, as I was crossing the concourse, 
I saw he was no longer at his station, 
my friend, his wheelchair, and his tray of trinkets 
all were gone. I hoped that where he went 
he was cared for and comforted, and if he had shuffled 
off this mortal coil that he was in the arms of God. 

Was he seen by anyone but me? 

I believed with all my heart he was an Angel... 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Trip to Heaven

Sitting working in my private room a grandfather clock ticks and tocks so very loudly,
Like a metronome tuned into my mind my eyes become heavy my lids slowly begin to close,
My mind drifts into very dark places, jet black places with a tiny white dot way off,
I walk towards the dot and after miles and miles it started to grow so much brighter.

Looking behind to see where I started there was nothing just the darkest of dark black,
I have no choice but to keep on walking towards the white dot now confused and scared,
After hours and hours I reach the dot but it is not a dot now it is a new bright world,
There were green fields greener than I have ever seen the trees had heavy velvet leaves.

People walked towards me they were smiling they were happy I wanted to shake their hands,
But they hugged me and held me and talked so kindly my troubles and worries disappeared,
Young children skipping, my new friends laughing it seemed I had known them all my life,
Being with these people was pure happiness we walked up to a white mansion we went inside.

A beautiful girl came running out to meet us she stood in front of me and gave me a rose,
It was the reddest rose I have ever seen it was frosted and gilded and drops of dew fell,
A man with grey hair and a white suit sat by a piano and began to play the sweetest tune,
I leaned on it's shiny surface and could feel the beat of soft hammers on wire, pure music.

All smiled and clapped when this maestro had finished my friends giggled as they saw my joy,
They asked lovely questions nice questions I enjoyed answering as they made me feel good,
We got up and began to walk back to the place where I had first met my wonderful friends,
We talked we laughed everything was about nice things I could feel the smile on my face.

Then the man with grey hair and the white suit said it was time that I made my way home,
Still smiling I desperately wanted to stay forever he saw this and said to have patience,
They stood in line by the entrance each person hugged and kissed me tears ran down my face,
The next thing I knew I was in my private room the grandfather clock still going tick tock.

I thought about my wonderful dream those wonderful people and still felt very warm inside,
It was all so very real and was very disappointed knowing it was just a lovely sweet dream,
Those people in that beautiful garden blessed with such loveliness they seemed so very real,
Standing up and stretching I saw something by the door it was a beautiful rose frosted and dewy,
It was the reddest rose I have ever seen.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Streetlight

You were a child,
without the hindrance
of responsibility
or doubt of what tomorrow
would bring.
A beast on the kickball
field, and yet a whining
baby when the streetlights
went off. Always fighting
sleep like it was the
neighborhood bully. 
You were a clown,
dressed like your 
daddy. Trying to
make your mother 
laugh like he did.
You got better at 
it every day.
You were a gift,
at least that’s what
your mother said.
And now she sits 
outside, on the porch
looking out toward the
streetlight. Waiting for
it to go dark, knowing
you won’t be coming 
home.
But,
You’re already there,
shining down from
a streetlight in the 
sky. Waiting for when
it’s her turn to come 
home.
-James Kelley, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

love me

love me when im strong.
love me when im week.love me when im down.love me when im mad.
love me when im happy.love me when im gone.love me nomatter what mood im in.love me to the moon and back.






love jamie


Details | Prose Poetry | |

a poem for an angel


for the first time
when i looked at you
i saw an angel
a very beautiful one
as i never seen before
in my entire life
till i saw you 

(come down for a while
and sitting on my shoulder
and when i`ll wake up 
from this beautiful dream
give me a sign you exist)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Assigned to You


I am the angel 
When you are afraid at night
I will comfort you 
When you awake from a bad dream
I will let my light shine bright
To surround you with love
I will stay with you to all eternity
For I was assigned to you
To protect you from 
Whatever is hidden in the shadows of night
In my duty to protect you
And keep you safe
I am in constant praise 
I will be your eyes 
When you wander through
The dark tunnels of your dreams



01:03:13


Details | Prose Poetry | |

lettre pour un ange


le ciel est proche
quand je sens
ta main
dans la mienne
et
j`ai envie
de voler
avec toi
la seule
au dessus de la mer

comme
un  Dieu
vole l`amour


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BECAUSE OF YOU

your ups
your or the sweet cup
my downs
you stay around
will never forget you
and all you do
i'am here
BECAUSE OF YOU


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Need to Know The Great War

Somehow I always knew you would die, you had the mark of a man that will not make it,
It had to happen, you had so much to live for, a wife, a child and a good solid family,
The sight of the blood and suffering you found it hard, I saw you turn your head away,
I would bet my boots that you look down from heaven and still you turn your head away.

What's it like up there, can you sleep at night and is it so cold it makes a man cry,
When you smile does the mud caked on your freezing face crack when it has dried hard,
Are there black and white rats that feed on dead bodies the whites going for the eyes,
Do you have someone to hold you and whisper kind soothing words, quietly in your ears.

Was there an angel standing near as you climbed up the ladder for that very last time,
I need to know! is there is an angel sitting by me on the very long and lonely nights,
Please, please tell me there is more than this and that one day this will all go away,
It's been so very long and so very hard, I need to know my friend I just need to know.

You was a decent friend and I miss our long talks on these long bitter winter nights,
We talked of home and I sobbed, your kind words of hope kept me going, in hard times,
I wished we had been friends before this, you were a good kind man and a good friend,
Somehow I always knew you would die, you had the mark of a man that would not make it.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

my goddess



beauty is your name
called by my lips
every time i see you
with my eyes, my own eyes
i see angels
an entire army of angels
but the most beautiful of them
you are


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Imprinted Love

Simple thoughts of you make me smile
You have entered my life like this missing tile
Honestly never thought I could sing this love song
But then out of nowhere, this Angel came along
You are my Angel and I love you so
I’ve found this love I never thought I’d know
Unknowingly you have imprinted your love in my heart,
And I never want this feeling to depart


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CONNECTION

I dreamt you
in golden threads of sunlight;
streaming, dancing, mingling with
azure waters...

dreamt you calling,
singing out my name in your regal orcan tongue...

dreamt you in each face that peered
from liquid silver seas...

dreamt your body's etheric touch
amidst cool tranquil waters...

dreamt our souls as one;
bound together; two spirit dreamers...

dream you now a foggy memory
since the whalers came...

but, as all dreams do;
you too soon…fade.

I awaken from this abysmal, astral realm…
reaching, stretching for your spirit.

Alone again, I will touch you again…
in another time.

Copyright, 2-20-14


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Moment of Hope The Invisible Man 30

Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.

Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,

As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.

If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.

An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.

The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.

Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.


Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.

These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,

As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.

These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,

Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An angel cries for me

An angel cries for me (a broken heart-)
me a nobody,
who cries black ink
and uses lined paper for tissues
to wipe away my tears,

(a sweet angel- from above
cries for me (a broken heart-)
See now the tears drip from her blushing, red cheek
down and drowns me in a tidal wave of mixed emotions;
I feel that angel somewhere (not in heaven)
sharing my grief and dancing my sorrowful dance,
and she is crying for me (a broken heart-)

.2.17.2014.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WEDDING AT THE SOURCE

Vows were taken, and prayers said, on that warm day,
Of their blessed wedding day, that fulfilled 
The dream that had been seen, and fantasies thought. 
And the Angel’s dress already bought, and nurtured
At the source of that Great River, River Nile… 

Her little girl fantasy came to life, when Andy held
Her at the alter, and the two came together
As man and wife, that bright day, 
That the church was filled with stars, 
Coming from galaxies both near and far. 

No tears were shed when exchanging the rings. 
And kissing when on glasses there were clings, 
She looked gorgeous before him in a gown of white
‘Cause the angel in her was such a wondrous sight,
As waters poured from the lake, into the Great River

They danced on the softest clouds of gold 
And began the promise to have and to hold. 
We’ll remember her veil and the long matching train 
And know how she looked when taking his name
And became Mrs Balondemu, at the source of the Great River

That day was be filled with joy and with love 
And heaven sent blessings from God up above. 
Sadly the day came to an end. 
But the angel now has a lover and friend
Fulfilling a love, brewed at the Source!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

These Salty Waves Pt 1

What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to say? All these lies you bottled up come sweeping, crashing with the tides. My footing's gone, the ocean real, but how am I supposed to feel? And here I am, a drowning mess, a loveless lie, I do protest. And here I am a drowning mess. So all those things you said to me? Where they just lies out of pity? So all those things you said to me? Or am I lost in salty waves? Yes I know my future's grave. Or am I lost in salty waves?And now the panic in my head, when I should be tucked up in your bed, reels and reels right here instead.I'm going down, a sinking ship, funny what name drips off my lips. It is not God, or Angles plenty, or even that I'm just damn ready To let go of the hell and the lies. I'm wishing for your gentle eyes. Or at least the way they always seemed, but perhaps that's just this salty dream. I have no clue what I'm to do! A drowning hopeless mess, for you-- think it's cute, and oh so funny, but here's the bitter truth now honey. I'm going down. There is no help. I can't be saved by God himself. I put my life, my whole world of trust, and you've thrown it away for lust. Well what the hell's a girl to do? I'm just so entranced by you!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Goodbye My Old Friend

you were there the day I was born
you sewed my clothes and spanked me when I needed it 
I wasn' t ready but you said it's ok your only a phone call away
so I moved away thinking it would be ok
then I got the call that you past away
I'm mad as he++ 
that much you can tell
I want to ask why you didn't say goodbye
was it because you didn't want me to cry
I'm going home but you will be gone
I think you went on
to make a home with a room just for me
you know it wouldn't be long before I come along
I didn't know I had brain cancer at the time you left me
I sit here and cry and hope it will not be long before I can come home
and join you again in heaven and sit by the fire then I know that is where I belong


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An angel of Love

An angel of love carries a deed
This must in turn return in heed
It a powerful spell that withers and dies
Not unknown too well within hearts lie
What feeling we feel as though we have come undone
It feels somewhat real as it sulks in the sun
Which day we have spent counting the hours
While the seasons pass its lovely powers
In dread we have seen what we suit
When an angel of love begins pursuit
What seraph?
What meaning of love
An angel of love 
Will come from above…


Details | Prose Poetry | |

contradictions

here are a few prose from the bible................


in matthew,an angel is sitting on the rock outside the tomb;in mark,a youth is inside.in 
luke,two men are inside.in matthew,the two marys rush from the tomb in great fear and 
joy,run to tell the disciples and meet jesus on the way.in mark,they run out in fear and say 
nothing to anyone.in luke,the two women report the story to the disciples,who do not believe 
them and there is no suggestion they meet jesus.in matthew,when mary magdeline and the 
other mary arrive at the tomb,there is a rock in front of it,then there is a violent earthquake 
and an angel descends and rolls back the stone.in luke,when the women arrive at the 
tomb,the stone is already rolled back.


these are but a few contradictions,in prose form.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Anthem of Resurrection

Her anthem was silently set on fire,
 the wounds on her back ,
where wings had once carried
the burden of hope aphotic,
as the bleeding had ceased to flow.
 
                 Time has a way of turning fresh
                               lacerations to scar tissue.
 
She carried the weight with the
Grace she was promised;
Sewing  agony into
Bitter flesh.
Dulling  the ache with prayers
To her father,
Hoping a fallen tongue could
Reach the heavens.
 
He had promised her a sacred quest
..yet found her flawed
 
His eyes blackened with his own
shadows , his own burdens,
 impressed themselves on her a stain
...that tore the downy softness from
her.  She walked alone,
and in solitude found rings of fire
wherever her feet touched down
         ... and the charred smell of
                       something once hallowed
her own delicate feathers, scattered ..
those torn from the soft skin of her back
               corrupt with his sins...were set ablaze
 
And as the fire sought cleansing,
             She sought the remedy of a martyr.
Accepting the pyre lain upon her back as a gift,
          She found the resolution to become the
             renewal of the world that she was sent
                           To protect.
                              In the ashes of her span,
                                   Lies the fertile seed of a resurrection.
 
-Katherine Wyatt and James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

These Salty Waves Pt 2

Call the lost cause, call out the Guard, because I'll say drowning is hard. You realize that you're all alone, to view pearly or fiery thrones. And when it hits, your mind's been blown. There's nothing you can do for me. I'm at the mercy of the sea. A kinder mistress than your she. Nothing's real! Nothing's fake! We don't realize the choices we make  Come back to us in the oddest way. Such as where I am today. With what I found, could I stay there? And play pretend like there's no care? Of course I could, of course I would, if it meant I'd have you like I should. But there you go, I see you now, walking the beach holding your cow. But wait... the cow, not she, is me! So who am I supposed to be!? Am I the wife, or mistress here? All I feel is rising fear. Her wedding ring.. glowing so clear. The sea has given me her mercy. I have but yet one final plea. Give to her what you'd give to me. One of us should be happy. The surface breaks and here I go. I thrash, but halt. It's cold as snow. Now comes the part that we all know. The Guard has come, the day's been saved. But of those glimpses was I crazed? And where's the man who I so craved? Well, give him freedom, and give him much, but never lose your lady's touch. His love for you will grow to such Great amount's he'll never go, and leave you here to drown like so.  Was it a dream? I'll never know. Ah look, it's Death In form  Of crows...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fragments

Paper stars
Golden streets
Non existent cars
The dream I have is to live the day away
You can only find the Goddess if you go and look
Because a dangerous angel will only appear if you look all night and day

Paper magic
Golden sunlight
Eating dreams and city tragic
Dancing to invisible strings
Moving your body sensually
Putting on glitter and gloss and other things
Wearing starlight and diamond tears
These are all the right ways to pass the years

So Come to me
Come to me
Come to my dream
Think of all the little bones
Think of how we can scream
Think of all the things that could happen
And set yourself free

Paper stars
Golden streets
Masquerades
Moonlight magic
It's all so tragic
But you must go find your Dangerous Angel and hold it in your fingertips
And kiss the moonlight on your lips
And swing and paint your hips
And watch the golden sails and yarn from the ships
And keep on living in your fantasies


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Prayer

I haven't asked the lord for much
But I'm asking for this angel now
She makes me feel a calming embrace
Every time I see her beautifull face

My body  tingles whenever she's near
I think of nothing else when she's not here
So I ask the lord for a little help
Complete my life with a love so deeply felt


My heart has been dormate for so many years
No emotion, no happiness, not even tears
So let me know , lord, what I should do
All things are possible since I believe in you

Now that my heart is alive once more
I give it to the angel I could not ignore
Lord please bless me with this gift
Keeping saddness away, let me bask within

I've waited for this love all of my life
Surely, it's from you lord and must be right
If nothing more comes from this, I couldn't conceive
For this angel opened my heart, made me ready to receive

What I've had with her has been great so far
I can only imagine more for her and I to explore
Now I pray to my lord harder than ever before
Let her breath life into my heart forever more


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TRUE ANGELS NEVER FLY

I saw an angel
He called me Hello
I said Hello
He gave me an apple
He smiled
I did the same
He said" you want more?"
His wings were gold
My eyes looked at them
" Yes,can you give me your wings?"
"Why not? " he answered
And gave me his wings
He lost his wings
Still he was an angel
Who says angels fly?
True angels never fly
I have a pair of angelwings.

PS: I have seen this angel
Many times among the crowd
He always smile
When our eyes meet.
Last summer he visited me
to mend angelwings
It was so tattered..



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Year 3000

Poet:  Ken Jordan
Poem:  Year 3000
Edited by:  Sparkle Jordan
written:  October/2014





                          .








where will
we         be


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Trapped in the maze of love

The young girls tour the countryside
with bosoms large and egos full of pride,
with noses stuck up in the thin air;
I see them all strutting down a dirt road
leading to a dead end;
as I stand lonely, trapped in the maze of love.
Lost I cannot find my way;
till I sit and listen to the songs of loving angels
they shine me a path of flowers and beauty,
as I follow, I'll soon be trapped no longer-
in that forbidden maze of love.

.2.14.2014.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Am Oblivion

Forever is forgotten you reach for sanity as you cry to the begotten take heed of the 
screams your soul is rotten. With your once angel eyes look upon me for I am the father you 
seek with your once angel lips speak to me as if spoken in gospel, no nightmare can bare 
the weight of my endeavor for obedience humble ties I will sever. Do not loath sin such as 
lust why.. why does humanity make a fuss I command free will so for this do not think ill my 
fallen children come to thee under hands of tragedy I will make destiny. I am the sun and 
darkness the thunder and rain reason mixed with vain all seasons leading to samhain simply 
put I am OBLIVION!.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Disciple

Poet:  Ken Jordan
Poem:  Disciple
Edited by:  Sparkle Jordan
written:  October/2014


I am
a living
Spirit,

from the
infinite 
sky -

I stand
in 
Solitude,

and
Holy Peace,

between
the 
spaces,
of 
time -

I Am that
 "Gap"

between
a
sunbeam

of
rays -

I Am
the hush
of
silence,

that lull
In 
the storm -

I Am
the pulse
and
flow

of 
rolling rivers,

that run
to wed

the
Infinite Sea -

My Heart
 and
Soul,

surrender 
to 
the breath

of the 
Great Spirit -

I walk
in 
the light,

of His
Divine
illumination,

that beams
out
from 
heaven.

I AM

a
Disciple,

a 
Messenger, 

from
the 
Most High -

 A living
Spirit,

Sent here
from
the Universe -



Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Angel's Descent

She who arrived as an angel, entrapped me with her fervent descent.
In angelic glow she decorates my heart
And twinkling stardust she lays the path
In awe of her beauty I pursue
Arrival of a beloved from heaven new

Angel to mortal
Stardust to sand
Distraught with mortality she laments
Lovely joy left blank
Terrified I could barely endure
In contempt by an Angel once pure