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Prose Poetry Art Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Art

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

When the Time is Right

For nearly 45 years I never spoke of  that day; the emotional pain was too great.
I simply hid it in the lining of my soul, knowing in my heart you didn’t stand
a chance with me as I stood in the rubble of my life and let you go, wrapped
in my heart with a wish and a prayer- all I had to give. And for 45 years, 
I dreamed of you and me playing in fields of daisies under blue skies as
I cried inside, wondering where you where, and if there was a part of you  
that somehow would remember me- would remember the bond we made 
in that single moment we shared together, when the nurse held you up to the
nursery window for me to see as I  stood on wobbly legs, with my trembling 
hands holding unto a pole with a dripping IV?

I prayed. Lord! How I prayed that someday, by the grace of  God, 
you’d come back to me when the time was right. 

So I lived my life. Got back up and crawled out of the rubble that was me, 
and lived with half a heart that somehow still managed to beat.

With the passing of  time, I bloomed; sometimes red, sometimes blue when I thought of all the years we could have shared as I sat and listened to family and friends 
tell me of the joyful times they shared with their children, grandchildren 
and great-grandchildren as, I  smiled and  cried inside and dreamed of you, 
and all the years of your life I  missed and, all the years I would never know. 
It was then I realized I was a very lonely soul. So, I wrote and wrote and
wrote, never suspecting for a moment that  nearly 45 years later,
you would find me through a poem I wrote for you.

I know I can never replace the mother and father who raised you, for the bonds
of time shared  are  much stronger than blood. Yet knowing what a wonderful 
women you turned out to be, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate  
and now with a daughter  of your own, is enough for me, and someday  
when the time is right for you, I hope and pray , we will meet again.


                                                 Elaine George 

This is a true story.  It was through this forum ( poetrysoup ) my birth daughter found me. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Child's Peace

Tell me of your peace. 
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place 
As it gently sloughs the pain away 
Tell me of your peace 
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind 
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace 
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know 
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease, 
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here 
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now 
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies 
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free 
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within 
Waiting for you
For you to let it be

Details | Prose Poetry | |


? ...GONE... ?

I never knew until that moment how bad it could hurt
To lose someone you never really had,
Days can be tough and at times cruel
To much for one to bear alone..

I was hoping that you would say
If I feel that I can't hold on any longer,
You'll take my hand and we'll go through it until together.
When the time comes, that if I can't stand on my own again
And I won't need you anymore, I will let go.
I will let go, if that would make you happy..

If you're lonely and your heart feels empty, 
Just tell me and I will step inside.
But if One Day, you'll be needing that space for someone else
Don't worry and gladly I will give in my space..

Like in a painful, sad love story
It's amazing how easily to fall inlove with someone,
Who simply smiles, talks or stare at you
The only hard thing to do is to make that person fall for you.
They say that time heals all wounds, but all it's done so far
is give me more time to think about how much I miss You..

Okay, so maybe time heals most wounds, right?
Then why does it feel like it?
The wound is getting bigger and bigger every second.
Maybe Love is just a beautiful dream, and then we wake up..

Just as they always say when somebody leaves
When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness,
Instead keep your head up high and gaze for the stars.
For that is where broken hearts have been sent to heal..

What is the opposite of Two?..
...A lonely me, A lonely You...

They say relationships are like glass 
That sometimes it's better to leave them broken
Than risk hurting oneself in trying to put it back together.

Lost in my heart, lost in my mind, I'm lost in your eyes
Entire days, weeks, months, ...a blur...
Flickers of light in the darkness 
Only to be enveloped in shadow once more.
And yet within the shadows of pain
Might be the faint flicker of love once fel,t
And that could make all the darkness worthwhile
Because a single "I Love You"
Is worth more than a thousand goodbyes..

I'm tired my Beloved.. 
of chafing my heart against the want of you,
Of squeezing into little inkdrops and writing it.
Ask me why I keep on loving you
When it's clear that you don't feel the same way for me.
The problem is that as much as I can't force you to love me
I can't force myself to stop loving you..

So I tell myself sometimes..
'Count the gardens by the flowers, never by the leaves that fall.
Count your life with smiles and not with tears that roll." ..

Though sometimes, these tears say all there is to say
And the scars don't ever fade away,
I am thankful that for a moment
I once met You, I once felt you look my way.
I once felt You within me, in my heart and mind
I once was happy and alive with You
I once Loved you and still Loving You... xoxo

P.S ..KYHYCYILY.. always.. ? ? ?

(re-edited letter)

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Kilted Warrior

He stands proud and strong, this kilted warrior
head held high against the unending pain
of a heart born out of sadness
for the loss of those who came before him
and thoughts of those who would
continue on when he himself was no more.
Proud men one and all
vows made, till surrendered in death
to defend that which
was their birthright, the very land
upon which he now stood.
The call to battle though long since silenced
came from within his very heart and soul
blood of the ancient ones raged in his veins
his sword by his side...shield upon his back
he stood ready to charge into battle
to do what was expected of him since birth
to fight as those before him fought
without fear, but with a strength
only a battle hardened warrior
knew and understood.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Dream

Strands of thick strawberry lace
Cascade and kindle together over a
Serene and still, velvety muse;
Soft sensations of quiet breath
Brush against every line within the frame;
A luminous comma poses
In an eternal gilt about her face;
Every flicker of her unseen candlelight 
Reflects a somnolent kiss
Upon the gazer's nodding lids.
Magically, the mind reacquaints
A taste and scent of red and yellow ocher, 
Along with the sound of a swoosh,
That permeates a freshly painted room;
Soon, the eyes open to a distant, familiar recall,
When two sleepwalking, kingly eras became one;
Every step blending each image
With a different pallet in time,
And while touching overlapping 
Textures, the mixed mediums are forever
Imprinted upon the memories of the two
Motionless figures;
The connoisseur, while he slumbers
And the sleeper, as she awakens 
From her symbiotic dream.

Contest: "A Dream"
Theme: Based on the painting: "Resting", by Victor Gabriel Gilbert

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Queen of my Heart Part 1

The queen of my heart lies here in state today, and my heart throbs,
Breaking like the darkness of any day, when she rose from her bed
And through rain and cold found her way in peasant haste and garbs
To scrub the pots, the clothes, the floor so her castle was fed.
I cannot regret her life, nor the hard gales of familiar poverty
It was her choice. My mother, Esther Jackson, in her simple life
The mold that makes great women virtuous, and wore the purple silk
Only few could see. She taught us them, nay, made us hard for strife:

This merchant ship that brought home bread, drank tea without milk
That we could form the fool in school; her hands were not afraid 
To work and we learnt the royal value of industry, and took pride
Like her in doing simple things well. Against our selfishness she laid
The whipping of her tongue, and kept the best things she had inside
For strangers she expect to come. She wasted no oil, and used liberally
The rod of correction, pleading in our ears the cause of the poor
So that even a Balias, unwashed, unloved, found favor at her door.  
When she told us to blow out that "Home Sweet Home" lamp, surely
You know she was saving oil, that she may have something to give away
And we may learn a person is never too poor to give, for bounty
Is not from the hands, it is from the heart. I loved this woman, the way
She prayed, calling each name and action to God, praising him happily,
And full of thanksgiving for each pound of flour and codfish she
Was able to cook at dead of night. You cannot measure her industry,
Tilling the soil, or raising hens and children, you do know her here
Whose fingers fumbled through arthritis to sew her children clothes
Who stood like a man, machete in hand, to fight the one who would dare
Disrespect her gate or threatened violence, the thorn upon the rose
Command respect, and her beauty a fragrance we can still smell today.
Our lamp never went out, our clothes had no holes if we cared

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Armaggedon is not a place where Divinity
lives war and plunder. Armaggedons' battlefield 
is within our heart and souls.
It is not a remote event in future history but an
actual occasion for the Self to connect more fully 
to the nature of God in he present. 

Armaggedon is not the end of the world or an
upcoming historic deadline for disaster. It is
in the war within the heart and soul of the individual. 
The Self is the creation of God. The serial disasters
that we accumulate in our lives are not about an
All Powerful God handing out retribution.
Revenge is not in the seed of divinty, who
contends that love as primary.It is our own battle

Armaggedon is an opportunity to realize the
personality of God within our own lives.
Justice, wisdom, love, knowledge, thoughts,
feelings and behavior etc. are all aspects of
the personality of God who created us. It is
our responsibility to merge with Divinity more
and more to strengthen the relationship
between ourselves, God and all people. This means
battling away that which is adverse to our lives.

Being a child of God means you already have the
inherent qualities of God within you, we all do,
no matter what your religion. Like a mother
who gives birth to a child, the child has aspects
of the mother’s personality within her. Thus, as
God has given birth to all of us, we have attributes 
of Divinity within that we need to grow and 
strengthen. Armaggedon is not a place outside
of us, it is a symbol of our growing faith.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Shall Never Love Anyone Like You

I Shall Never Love Anyone Like You

My heart ache as I watch you fall for another.The pain hurt so much I felt sick.I didn't have the courage to tell you my feeling I din't have the courage to tell you what my hearts feels.But  I can't refuse to watch you fall into he hand of another.May i blind myself may i break my own heart may i give relief to the feeling that I had when i could no longer hear your laugh no longer see your smile and no longer feel your touch.To me being alone and feeling nothing is worthless I shall miss what I have lost but this I have done to protect what little shard of my heart remains.You feel another never knowing my feeling for you.but it fine now for I shall never love another like I loved you.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I've had enough
Yes enough of your childish games
I've had enough
Of your lies.and disappointments
I've had enough
Of headaches,and worries
I've had enough 
Of your disrespect
I've had enough
Of heartaches,and pains
I've had enough
Of wondering if and when you're coming home
I've had enough
Of planning a future that has no hope
I've had enough
Of waking up and finding myself alone
I've had enough
Of wishing you'll change for the better
I've had enough
Of talking,and you're not listening
I've had enough
Of dreaming this dream all alone
I've had enough
Of being the only one trying to make things work
I've had enough
Of treating you like a prince,king,or queen
then in return you treat me like I'm nothing
I've had enough
Of you're not taking me seriously
I've had enough
And I'm sick,and tied of all the drama
I've had enough
Of you falsely accusing me
I've had enough
And I can make it by myself

Details | Prose Poetry | |

This I know

The question so easy
So difficult to answer
I know why

It leaves me broken all over again
I know the answer, I know, no, no, no . . .
I don’t want this

This pain that’s not all mine . . . hardly mine
It rips and tears and cuts
My heart to pieces 
It bleeds and drains my soul away
I wish I never had one

I know why
Why did I have to teach myself the answer?

I know why
I wish I was blind, deaf, numb and uncaring
I wish you never made me

Why did you put me here?!
What did we do to you?
I wish I knew what to say!

Every time life turns good and gets better
You smash it all to bits and pieces
You rip and tear and shred me apart
Again and again and again!!

I know why
God help me I know why
It leaves me beaten, battered, discarded and defeated
Alone . . .
Always alone in the end
I don’t want to know why anymore
Take it away
You can do it if you try

I cannot stop myself from know why
And these words sound hollow empty like me
Why not me and not other
It was I who stole and ripped asunder
A world, a life, ahhhhh I curse you!!!!!
Not them, not him, not her . . 
Just me

Can’t you . . .
Just go away and leave us be
Why can’t I cry for anyone or anything

Would someone please tell me
What good is a heart and soul anyway?
You break and take them both away all the time
You bastard!!

Ask me why I don’t believe in you!
Ask me again why I believe I live in hell!

Why . . ?
Just tell me why . . .

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Lonely Grave


I stood by your graveside this cold winters day.

A heart broken with sorrow that won’t go away.

I called out your name and shed many a tear.

And hoped in my heart that you would appear.


God took you from us that fine sunny morning.

Our lives now shattered without any warning.

Your work here on earth has finished this year.

Your books and teachings you spread  far and near.


It was a pleasure to know you for sixty odd years.

And when my time comes I will have no fears.

You will be waiting to greet me as oft times before.

When I call to your house and knock on the door.


Each night when I lay my head down to sleep.

I will ask the lord your soul to keep.

And if you find any time away from your books.

Look kindly on me as I walk in those woods.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The next isle over

There I was.

Inside a crowded Toys R Us
On a mid-Winter’s evening

Abrasively loud 5 year olds
And depressed fathers
Ready to throw their “angelic” brethren
Into life-size Nerf basketball hoop
(Because it was on Clearance)
To embrace sanity’s madness

I was simply here to search for a porcelain doll
For my darling 8 year old angel
To match her serene complexion

But, toddler stomps & red-faced pouts
Equivalent to octaves of Hell’s 5th circle
Could not stop the strut that suddenly coated my foggy nerd glasses

There she was.

Her 5 foot, 10 inch majestic walk
Performing exorcisms on corrupted tile floors
With each

My ear canals
Swimming in the serenity of
Her olive-coated curves
And violet-auburn shaded, shoulder-length curly locks


Sensual witchcraft was placed upon my resilience
Chipped away by her Hazel ribboning pupils

My heart’s atrium, flat lining, with laughing hyena smile
Frozen by igloo’s revenge upon madness

“Excuse me, sir”, she vehemently moaned

(At least, in my head)

“Hi”, I expressed with pre-pubescent coarseness.

“I’m looking for a porcelain doll.
But, I’m a tad lost in this maze. 
Could you help me find my way?”, she whispered with demure smile

With my tongue pressed against seconds’ icy arm,
Locked for dear life,
I inhaled with Olympic stature

“It’s 9 isles this way. May I show you?”, I confidently declared on sanity’s edge.

With constellations aligned by blue moon signatures,
“Yes, please”.
As crux of evening’s audible stresses
Faded into final curtain’s epileptic sunset,
The winds of Yahweh curtailed all foggy affirmations
Into palms of bliss

On this night
I proudly took the long route

Slow dancing with magnificent silence
To the isle
That was only 2 steps to our left

I believe we both discovered our porcelain dolls on this night.

©Drake J. Eszes

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Gertrude -- Gertie -- Gertrude Stein

-- Re:  Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, Rue de Fleurus #27, Paris --

What would Gertrude.What Gertrude.What, Gertie?Have thought.Have thought what
thought?Thought thought driving,forward,remorselessly.Remorseless Remorse?Forward.Never reverse;no reverse.No.No remorse.Remorseless,spurning reverse,seated.High!Seated high in Auntie.Then in Godiva seated. Looming.Enormous.
Looming enormous.Unsinister presence. Certain presence.Definite.Definitely not sinister.  Positively looming;enormous in brown.Brown,in brown corduroy,driving Paris.
In Paris,through Paris.Looming high in Paris in Godiva.With Alice, quiet beside her.
Quiet; always, Alice.Alice always. And zipping, about -- coming to Rue de Fleurus 27.
Zipping to Rue de Fleurus.To 27. And Alice so able.Able Alice, each a.m. transcribing.Able Alice typing.Automatic Gertrude.Typing Gertrude.Great Gertrude.GeniusGertrude.Talking Gertrude.Genius talking.Great brown Gertrude;Gertie to Alice.
Absorbing, talking, buying art --- buying Matisse.Absorbing Matisse.Showing Matisse.Banishing Matisse.Selling Matisse,collecting Picasso.Great Gertrude -- genius Gertrude at court, holding court at Rue de Fleurus 27.And Leo.Gone Leo.No Leo at Rue de
Fleurus.Not at 27 After Leo, after Mr. Stein, after brother Leo.But there was Alice.Alice
was there Among Braques.And Cezanne.(Not Matisse.)No longer Matisse, but Picasso.And Picassos, Picassos, Picassos!And Alice; alongside, was Alice.Next to, was Alice.Alice
next Gertrude,Gertie, G. --- Gertrude, Miss Stein. Genius Gertrude Stein Quiet Alice
always.And a great Gertrude.A great brown Gertrude.A leviathan. A passing ship; a
great leviathan.Gertie, a genius.A hugeness.A shibboleth.But to Alice, just Gertie.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Spirit of Universal Energy for Perfection

                                      In and out of fleshy-boney body, 
                                        the senses prevail faster of all
                                          in mind,in heart and in soul,
                                       "The Spirit of Universal energy"

                                    Going on and on, with ego's instinct 
                                    being bound to be so as deserved
                                        predetermined for the sake of 
                                                 "THE ULTIMMOST"

                                      "THE UNIVERSE"is being played 
                                        for its finest perfection, where
                                       "The Spirit of Universal energy"
                                 and ego clashes for new construction.

                         Soul is caused, body is born and mind is evolved,
                            Impartial heart speaks the truth of the Spirit
                                         showing the path to the ego.

                              All in the tiny fleshy body, "a tiny universe"
                           nothing is impossible to conquer the perfection
                               in this Universe. Its game and nothing else.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Close enough

Closer to the clouds 
Soaring through the soft misty flocks of vapour
Touching the overstretched never ending horizons
Closer to the clouds
Reaching for the elusive galaxy scattered with stars

Outside my window, birds perched on window panes
Breathing the hopes of life
Burying their worries, letting them go
Soaring away the pains of yesterday
The distance reassures me of the longer road I have
Waiting working of what might come
Relieving the old alleys
Streets that left me hanging, roaming 
Stranded with loneliness

Break from the fast pace of life
Dive into total surrender
Break from our shallow life filled with plans
The never ending ambitious dreams
Capturing each moment, not giving any a miss

The small sentiments
The simple notions
The innocent thoughts 
And the crazy bedlams
Thrive, we will.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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 | |


My heart snared in the 
gentleness of your love, 
encased in the pure
ambrosia of your very 
Captivated from first eye 
shot, to be carried like a 
shadow, this euphoria you 
And I sit the King as you 
bathe my realm in beauty, 
every corner blessed in 
your serenity, every
raindrop but a gentle kiss.
My Queen within my dreams, 
the princess in my garden, the 
fragrance of the flowers, the 
air of all desires.
The living of my day, the 
starlight of my night, the 
sinking of the sun, and 
every dawn that's won, 
these things you are to me, 
for always and ever be.
Caress this heart of mine, 
let the souls combine, sate 
these dreams of ours,
beneath our guiding stars.

Details | Prose Poetry | |



I am a citizen of that country
Today is her birthday
Surrounded by barbed wire,
Waiting for the command of firearms
I think that everyone has birthday
Somebody knows, somebody doesn't know
Sometime valuable, sometime worthless.

They have countries, they have rules
Mathematical formulas are known
They have birthdays, festivals
Then the red , black, white, how many countries
They have birthdays.

If give up all the barbed wire, discrimination
Mothers would be same with the smell of soil
Mother would be human being
Then birthday of the world, to me, your, everybody  
So today I feel 
My birthday has become one of the world's birthday.


Details | Prose Poetry | |


Sahrah tends. Sahrah tends the bar at the Inn. The ScourMoueINn. She washes dishes 
passes out Ale to the largesse man drinks droughts ever pays. IN the corner passing 
unnoticed is the small monkish man with the leer, so eye watch young Sahrah tend. When 
approached reproaches some nervous curses foiled. Foible but talented drinking no ale at his 
table but soda just impaling his eye upon Sahrah, sure he is never noticed young love never 
notices old want. His blemishes fails. She comes laying left on the table near the old mans 
soda was a Valentine Heart full of young love twisting it turning it over the old man read 
Sahrah loves... but the namme was failing no namme was forthcoming his misunderstanding 
was in thinking Sahrah never loves him, she loves everyone just the same as she tends even 
him. The largesse man no threat head bent half asleep full of Ale on the table. They soon all 
get away. Sahrah came. She stood looking inside like all young women have there own 
interest do. Reaching her hand out to touch once the elder mans beard. Then they left the 
largesse man there asleep turned the Key to the Door of the Inn. A Valentines Heart will 
come true. At the ScourMoueINn. Sarah tends. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Riding in the Rain

Rode over to visit a friend today, she paints with colors in the most lovelest of ways. no 
charcoal or water with color, just oils on a canvas. she allows me to watch. word-less i stay 
for hours sitting in a point she turns to say,what color should this be? look at the 
color of what you wish to paint,this is the color of it should be.she coolly turns away.
so a sun-shine rain begins it's windy spray upon this paint-able summers day.we cover the 
canvas in a most coveted shelter we dash.
so i mount my bike from which i came cycling home,riding in the rain.
return i will another day,perhaps it won't rain,upon this other day...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Forever More And More

Meet me at midnight under the moonlight
 I’ll always wait for you to come 
For you and only you fill my heart with
Tender thoughts of devotion 

I shine in the brilliant shadow of your love
When memories come to haunt my soul
I know you’ll always be my strength
Even though I hide my tears 
Strange as it seems, you know my fears 

You kiss my soul...
Bathing my heart with your warming love
Your passion lights the embers of my desire
 For you...only you my love

I am drenched in the after glow of our love
 It fills my senses...
Like the sweet smell of morning coffee
 You my love...
Are the crème and sugar to my soul. 

As I turn the many pages of our love 
I float in magical bubbles that arouse my heart
 Breathing in all the tiny moments
And secret words in the private world we share
Ecstasy paints its vivid hues
 Into the deepest chambers of my mind
Enticing me to linger in the warmth of your caress...
Showering your lips with maple kisses 

You are enclosed within my heart, 
Carved flawlessly …
     Forever my love
            Forever more and more


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CHANGED MY Underwear,------- and My Name

change my name 
fairly often, I suppose

change my clothes 
area codes
and Imma' damn gypsy, ya' see

keep it fresh ta' death
speck of blood
ketchup on my attire

got more rhymes 
than I got grey hairs
that's an effing lot
because i got my share

digg a 
hot-fire piece of passionate verse
those are 
rare to find

if  only poets would 
unleash the fury 
instead of 
holding back
what's really 
on their mind...

I must say...
the library, 
the internet, 
the etc. etc...
would be a less stinky place...
AND, maybe 
I'd keep my name, and sever ties with 
underwear's elastic,
and just go 
APE-Spit Spastic!~

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Only Friend

In the iron grey days of the 1950's change changed everything, good or bad,
Tom, who was the local coal-man for this area, a hard man of steel but kind,
He tried to speak but no words would come, he just pointed, on to the road,
Following his gesture, outside was a new motor lorry for his rounds, no horse.

In broken and heart wrenching sobs, he said, they had taken away my old horse,
He's been sold to another firm and I will never see him again, he's gone away,
Tom loved that horse, his life was built around it, morning evenings, weekends,
In his own time Tom would trim and groom that horse, it was his closest friend.

They never said me that my dearest friend was going I had no time to say goodbye,
He's probably in a new place now waiting for me to come and take him back home,
I know that horse he is my only family, I bet he is really worried he will so sad
He probably thinks I have deserted him because I don't love him that's not true.

I bet he is in a stable, his big brown eyes moist looking around all the time,
Any door that opens he will think it is me, he will be excited then really hurt,
He will miss our long talks together in the evenings he used to nod his long face,
He will be in a panic, like me, waiting for his dad who will never see him again.

A strong man who carried tons of coal everyday he had no family only his horse,
Brought up in a state run home never lucky enough to be picked by any families,
His horse was his friend who new all of Toms deepest secrets, tears and sorrows,
Tom left his new lorry where it stood, with heart wrenching sobs he walked away.
I watched him go, there was nothing I could say there was a painful lump in my throat.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Our Humanities with Consequence this Transparency in Godliness

The Godliness of Adoption is...
Or is it not?
 …A beautiful spring sprig floret of rose. A rose brought home from our humanity's colorful garden of trust? Yet, was it not all that long ago when the cut of each stem entrusted to its own gardener's worthy and caring hands? 
Hands, now too soon stripped and emptied.
Hands that were easily led astray by the coersions of now self-appointed zealots.
They, with hands marked with ever stained bloody thorn pricked fingers, which now present each torn stem of rose on heaven-like sent pedestals; until met is a king's ransom; these thirty pieces of silver, the ask of many an angelic broker.

Adoption is...
Or is it not? 
...An act next to Godliness when these angels of guise are loosed to search in the mist of this motherland?
They, the finders of our pink and blue hued overflow spillage of souls.
This is nature of guised humanity. Delicately does it assist society in the dredge of waiting collection ponds, pools of tears that gleamingly mirror you and I; and from where our memory should fill with sounds. The siren-like cries of which, now link with our distantly lost...  ...or coldly disengage of our not of want…

Adoption is... 
Or is it not?
...The beautiful water lilys of pond? Those that so serenely float above a never skimming conscience that is this God-fearing nation; a polarized complacency so sweetly lost amidst its own mesmerizing shimmer, and without inkling of shame, all innocence of eyes fail to see through transparency by such weakly given puruse. A view that cannot pierce the murkily veiled mire that hides just below its own watery reflection... 
...And where underneath trails this triad’s tangled web that will soon unravel in route to tie with each long waited conscience…

Adoption is it or is it not our "Humanities with Consequence"?

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Lucky I Guess Part I

Today was the big day! I bought a scratch-off ticket two days ago and won $25,000.00! Can
you imagine that? Me, a lonely unemployed nobody, strikes it rich. Yee-Hah! So, I'm off to the
lottery collections agency to cash in my lucky windfall. The polite gentleman handed me
the necessary forms. I feverishly completed them and within 36 minutes was awarded my
check. Wow! Me, a single, unrecognized nobody, is clutching a mild fortune. 
“Zippety-Do-Dah!” Whistling a happy tune, I venture home. Three blocks before reaching my
domicile, I spotted a young lad on the corner of Clark Street and 9th Avenue. He was
sitting on the cold concrete playing with an energetic puppy - yet, he was crying. "Hey,
kid, that's a beautiful puppy you've got." The young boy looked up at me and stammered:
"He's not my puppy, Mister. I found him here in the street a little while ago. The doggie
has no home." My heart skipped two beats. "Where do you live, son?" The tearful boy
crooked his head towards a dilapidated house two lots away from the corner of Clark
Street. I didn't think anyone lived there. I paused for a second and then:

"Hey, Mister? Do you have an extra quarter?" I was speechless for a moment. 
"Excuse me,, do you have a dime or a quarter? I have two quarters in my pocket. 
If I get one more I can buy the puppy a can of dog food at the corner store." Containing a smile, 
I lost my breath. I regained my wits and asked: "Would your Mom and Dad approve of you 
having a puppy?" The young lad kept his head down and replied: "Well, my Dad is dead.
But I know my Mom would like this puppy. It's just that my Mom can't walk and, um...
I take care of her and, um...we really wouldn't have enough money to take 
care of a dog, anyways." My heart was breaking. "What's your name son?"
I didn't understand who's tears I was envisioning - his or mine.
"Charlie, Mister." "My name's, Charlie."


For: Carol Brown
I Hepled The Needy contest
(This is Part I of the story)

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Domino effect

i build the game to follow the rules,
a line a black rectangle, 
with white dots figuares,
who design such a figuare?

games of rules,
i just know i want to plan to win,

line all up straight like to view a zig zag moon,
but the moment it ends, another game begins,
but who do we call king?

with money on line every thing is  a game to a king,
place the stacks high how this type of figuare sit flat to sight,
it can't be that 

in the rules in life your in it to win it,
or the game will win you,
and i dont even know the rules to dominos.
i just watch from far,
as it all falls down!!!

one over laping the other,i this perhaps the order?

domino effects are you with it?

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Okay so just to remind you

Okay so just to remind you, you are absolutely amazing. You make my day every day. I have a smile on my face constantly. You are the first thing I think about when I wake up & the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. I’m defiantly lucky to have such an incredible girlfriend like you. You are the biggest sweetheart, ever. I adore everything about you. I will do everything in my power to keep you in my life. I want you & only you. You’re beautiful inside & out. I fall more & more for you every day. & I’m so in love with your voice, it’s the cutest thing ever! Stay sweet baby. You’re one in a million.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Close your eyes for awhile my friend, I heard there lies a moon far behind the black sky, I heard lovers were dancing beneath, can you hear them singing? I can feel their tipsy steps making rhymes on floor, and smell of perfumes filling the air, I heard a sun rises to brighten up their world, and birds do sing them charming melodies at morning, they say they have roses in colors and beautiful trees in the streets, and have they told you about the sea yet? They say it smells so wonderful and the delicate air of seas caresses their cheeks with soft wet breezes, oh my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the fragile ghosts that we are!

“Hush” whispered to me, “I lighted up a moon inside my heart and I smell lilies and jasmine in my nose, my dreams play tunes my heart dance on, they speak to me all night and there I see a starry night floats above, I feel the warmth of a sun in my soul as it hugs tight, whispering to me hymns of love and joy, lightening candles for hopes which had accompanied me amongst the dark, why have you closed your eyes my friend? Look through the colorful roses I painted for you with eyes wide open, let the lights off so you would see clearer, let the lights off so you can brighten up the world that hides with you, for my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the free spirits that we have become!

* If you enjoyed this piece, follow the link and share your thoughts

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hypnotic Beyonce

A love that is stronger than my pride,
trying to keep feelings my heart can no longer hide
Emotional honesty is trapped within me,
relieve me, and oh please set me free.

How to give my heart if am afraid to be hurt
Turning my back on love ignoring what its worth.
Refused to reach out for his love, I ‘m all left alone, now
loneliness thrilled me to my very bone.
Playing the ‘hard to get game’, now I’m left like a clown.
Trying to escape from such a feeling; truth that my heart is revealing.
Silence screams music in my head, pushing me to switch on the TV
There came Beyoncé doing her show, singing her new song ‘Halo’
Amazed, her voice melted my frozen stare, so I sat down on the coach to listen.
Her music turns hypnotic and pulled me in, sending thrills all over my skin.
Her voice were clear as the Caribbean sky on a cloudless spring day,
and every word she says just melts my heart away, giving deep feelings that
Consume my tender heart, leaving only mystery with no ultimate attempt to define it.
Her word touches my emotion from the core of my soul, and it seems like 
everywhere, only my lover’s face that I behold. 

Then a happy time filled my mind, giving sensation of a summer breeze tickling my 
skin and amplifies the deepest desire I felt within. This perpetual bliss, abruptly I 
found myself in the arms of my love wth Enthralled Melodies making Passion 
explodes into flames and from this very moment, I know my life will never be the 

 By  kelleyana Junique.

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written 17th Sept 2013

When it comes to love, I AM poisonous
 don't let me curse another, leave me loveless

For the first time in my life, I felt your pain and cried for your heart
 my heart finally hurts, knowing I passed this pain from the start

Please find help to set your heart free
 trust me, it's not a life you recover from easily 

Damaged goods I told you, unrepairable
 but some how, you managed the impossible

Unlovable for my entire life
 yet you had no problem, getting me to become your wife

Yes, it's been more than both of us should have ever had to bear
 at this moment, every cell in my body is overwhelmed, so I really do care

Please don't enter my life's pain and despair  
 you don't deserve it, you are so patient and filled with such love

I'm sorry I let myself fall in love knowing it would poison you
 soul mates forever and eternity, my love belongs only to you...

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A Perfect Day

Friday had been the saddest day
That my young life had ever known
The loneliness that my heart felt
Just would not leave me alone

The clouds that filled the afternoon
With their darkness and their dread
Left remorseful feelings alive inside
Along with feelings that seemed so dead

On Saturday when I did awaken
My world was much worse it seemed
For the gloom and darkness it embraced
Left my mind aloof in sad daydreams

Of what my eyes had seen to transpire
On that dark, cold Friday afternoon
I only prayed and hope what was written
Would come to fruition so very soon

As the last twenty four hours ticked away
The hope in my heart did begin to rise
For it began to beat so steady again
Waiting for the prophesied moment to arrive

But many in the room praying around me
Saw their faith begin to slip and fade
Not believing that what was happening
Would be much more than just another day

My heart awaiting the time to come closer
Anticipating the joy it would soon receive
Felt the rhythms of the approaching moment
For deep within it never failed to believe

I heard the most beautiful enchanting melodies
Embracing me from deep within His tomb
And upon hearing the hearty voices of angels
I sensed He would be rising so very soon

And the last twenty four hours did finally end
Sweeping my sadness and loneliness away
Replacing it with pure joy, and happiness
For He rose from the grave on a perfect day.

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Moon Said To The Sun Aeon Sphere

Charms of Dusk,
A Pure Baptist touch,
Display lurk of a rush plus battle scares
Of blood and rusk what have this man endure,
Even, if this is a man or by luck a higher evolution of a being?
Orion sire from resurrection of most bitter defined
What is being?
Deepen the touch of the man of literary erupted,
Powers of king’s powers of rings could dare to touch great barriers to discuss
Future of youth design to up hold generation haven witness sure a creature only, 
Mythology to have indigestion years of years on end of generation on anarchy
Devolution of a tone of a rowel stone of eyes to brush and look,
What is being?
This was a warrior of the highest status,
Reincarnation 10 years of a millennium on the break off end
Greatness of evil dares not to evoke sin of tear to jerk to tears away,
At revenge of a sting of moral tongue of numb of blood & dirty learn in another realm
Of a death ray,
What is being?
He was a wake from chained of musk body tone build like a statue of pure marble,
This would be a battle of war of wars to end wars
Seas felt like empty towers has he was storming to thunder to walk,
Mountain lift and trees flatting what power be stole in this mystic creature
Wait to amaze we all would know,
What is being?
Blood in the street footprints left of dead mystic foes
Almost in roll of red roses of a garden that stain the street with blood,
He picked them off one by one that splatter like a ring of salt and ashes turn to dirty
Left the sight for the dead to walk,
And set sight of the ultimate evil that evil of destruction should envy him
And once more Orion stood to meet the question,
What is being?
This ultimate foe and his self-war craft at it fitness as prediction,
By the Sun and the Moon he was their son and he knew
The beginning and the end as it was predestination,
For this event to take toll
What is being?
“The Moon Said To The Sun Aeon Sphere”.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

spell bound

there is only one woman
in the whole wide world
one thing that matters
this certian girl
and she fills my mind
both days and nights
her loveliness is my delight
a loveliness i can not requite
so quiet lies my tongue
that would confess so much
about desire for a simple touch
heartless to tell anyone
about this crush
especially her, i love her that much
better to live with a dream
than deal with rejection
secrets are kept for my protection
painfull are the places
we learn this lesson
spending the most of our lives
hiddng from rejection
a man begins to wonder
what is this thing that has me bound
why is her name a wonderful sound
why am i the only one that
watches her the way that i do
i thought i had the answer 
but i do not have a clue
hopeing that she'd notice that i never
denighed her any request
and that she would stay longer
and that was my only test
start a conversation
maybe start a kind of relation.
why do i see her imperfection 
as the most beautiful thing i have searched
and count it as the only worth
that held me bound to the earth
that kept me sound to sanity
and insanity where my minds
looks for moments that we share
looking for opportunity to dare
and hope that you have a snare
to entangle me somewhere
where my imagination
has went wild.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The color of love

Without him beside me, my future seems so bleak, being naïve, 
i was told he was not meant for me. Ignoring this world of cruelty
and its power tear our world apart. Now sitting i ponder why I being so naïve from the very start

My tomorrow will never come, for I will forever live in his yesterday. Turning my back on the one who loved me in every single way.
Not even time can heal a shattered heart, but I guess somewhere in his heart he loved me after all

Many times I’ve dreamt of him and unable to hide my tears,
As I reminisce that sad day I decide we go our separate ways,
I pinch myself, as in a dream, knowing it is not true,
How could I let go of such a man, no woman would ever do.

I remember the look in his eyes when he dropped by and found my note. Pain crippled on his face leaving such a heart in pain, as he read along “My heart is with you but I will forever be alone, never will you and I share a place of our own. Rejected by all to cross the color line thinking my love is blind".

 If again such a love should come my way, I’d break free of those dark days I’d confess my true heart and reject the rest and  break through this racial barrier and fallow my lovers path wherever he lead to ease this heart that beat to grieve.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Count your friends
When it’s dark and gloomy
When the clouds are gray and smoky
When the storms are heavier than normal- count your friends.

Count your friends
When depression has taken over you
When your back is numb and your demeanor has fallen
When the light on your path has gone off and you’re left with no way out- count your friends.

Count you friends 
When your image has fail
When your personality no longer matters
 Not when the money is like waters.

Count your friends
When you have nothing to offer
 Not when it is surplus to dish out.

Know me today, not tomorrow
Know me when I’m poor, not when I’m rich
Cause there is no second chance for selfish friends.

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I will aim for the sun
I will struggle to reside in the sky
I will face the toughest storms
I will stand firm when the wind blows

I will focus on the light from above
I will open my dark places to be lighten
I will forget the mistakes of my past
I will rely on the light that shines forever

I will plant new trees for the sun is available
I will weed out the intruder from my soil
I will clean my farm for speedy germination
I will smile as my sun watches me harvest each day.

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I can face Tomorrow

It just cracked
SPelted in two 
Deep on my wall
And left a vacuum 

It just broke
Felt on my path
Close my destiny door
And left a roadblock

It finally drop
Right on my last strength 
I push it over me
Now I can face tomorrow 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lingering Glance

Silent moments together that Creates passionate desire.
Feeling the closeness of nature that bloomed on face of the one we admire,
creating warmth that ignites into a burning fire, giving feelings that takes us
to the seven heavens or even higher...

Gazing in nature marvel as our eyes met each other so profound that
 we immediately drowned into each other's gaze. Holding each other there,
 and no use for words to say, as we exchange a visible frisson in lingering glance.

Bodies so close while we shared a romantic dance, a sensation like a hypnotic trance,
 Then our heart takes over and emotions conquered the rest searching for comfort,
 I rest my head upon his chest. Feeling the pounding of his heart that beats only love for me

Accepting the gift of love that overflows the hearts. Awaken flame 
which makes no other pleasure feels the same. A complete satisfaction of wholeness
That goes beyond physical attraction to a deeper commitment. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


If there is a child in Kolahun, Lofa County who can’t read- that matters to me.

If there is a senior citizen somewhere who can’t get a pension after many years of dedicated service- that makes my life poorer.

If a decent brother is accused of rape and is being rounded up without a benefit of an Attorney or due process- that threatens my civil liberty.

If a native Liberian is down sided for an elite- that overshadows my equal right clause in the constitution.

If a high school graduate cannot be honor with a job, but the only option left is to hawk on the streets to earn a hard living- I wonder what society is being created for the young generation.   

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What's the point?

What’s the point 
in living
When death awaits
What’s the point 
in breathing
When you can not 
feel the 
swelling of your 
What’s the point 
in love
When you heart 
only aches
What’s the point 
of being in a 
state of 
When you are not 
really alive
What’s the point 
in doing your 
When it is 
What’s the point 
in making all 
When you are sad
What’s the point 
in smiling 
When your heart 
And that colgate 
never touches 
your eyes
What’s the point
in anything?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Twinkling eyes

Twinkling eyes that sparks, funny how emotions can takes over the heart
Impossible words that is hard to find, thinking one movement and he might cross
the line.  He wore his pride like a badge, but the wounds in his heart is deep,
and for him to love again is just a broken dream.

Even through loneliness scream when he’s under his sheet,
He rather succumb to its sting, other than listened to the silence song his
Heart had to sing. Known his heart is a self made wall,
And he’s not the type of man she should tell how much she loved afterall.

Thoughts kept running through his mind when he recall
how profound he looked her in the eyes. Making him feelings so awkward that
 he could not control all he knew is having her besides him daily, his love will grows.
He realize that her tender care is the only thing that keeps him alive, yet he 
Settled with routine and afraid go beyond the boundaries.

She reaches out to feel his touch, but somehow had not get enough
Thinking of going her way, but she knew her mind will suffer in everyway
He took her in his arms, where she found security. Hands in hands 
She looked in her lover eyes and saw the love inside and
Made him show the feelings, he always had to hide
Tears fell down his face as emotions takes over
his body language says everything and there things became clear.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Poetry is the answer

What impels us so late at night 
to rise up and turn on the light 
to sit down and begin to write 
a poem if the feeling is right? 

For some the answer is simple enough. 
but others must crack a nut that is tough. 
It’s more than rhyme it's that and bigger stuff. 
A finished poem, a diamond no longer rough. 

There is much to be said of many things, 
of wording it right and the joy it brings, 
a quality tone just right when it sings, 
when it ends it's as true as it begins. 

What impels us so late at night 
to rise up and turn on the light 
to sit down and begin to write 
a poem if the feeling is right? 

An un-crafted word, just like a fetter. 
Un practiced in words, we are the debtor.
And for proof, view any written letter. 
Poems fill a need to say it better. 

thanks for the recomendations Reason A. Poteet 
edited by Monty Newman on 11/25/2010

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Americans say that India is the largest democratic country .

Asians say that India is the country of spiritualism .

Australians say that India is the country of huge crowd . 

Africans say that India is the country of great M . K . Gandhi .

Europeans say that India is the country of philosophy . 

Politicians say that India is our strategic partner .

Economists say that India is one of the best place for investment .

Communists say that India is the perfect soil for communism . 

Capitalists say that India is the market of products .

Historians say that India is the center of history .

Poets say that India is the country of Rabindranath Tagore and lovers

Everybody says many many sentences about India !

Although soul of India says to her people
"You are citizens of India but residents in the world .
And the World is your original mother land ." 


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A noble story one that ought to be our good host laughed and swore the games begun. Come match the knights tale if you can sir monk. To bellow arms and blood and bones he swore. A noble one I'll pay off the knights tale lets do this right. You tell yours by and by either I'll speak or go on my own way. Everyone listen but first i will propound that i am drunk i know it by my sound. For I'll tell a golden legend and a lie. Forget your ignorant drunken bawdiness it is a sin and great foolishness. Tell us of other things you'll find to lack i see you are angry with my tale but why. cuz you are a fool your head is overpowered by the wine. If you are not enjoying yourselves then cut off my head but as i drink my wine and ale. Whoever won't accept what i decide will pay for everything we spend along the ride. So hold up your hand if you accept my speech reflect a little and don't hold me to blame if you choose wrong don't lay it on my head. And both of them had bawdy tales to tell theirs no sense making earnest out of game.

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This is the Liberia I wanted:
 I no longer hide to voice  my opinions,  because I’m a journalist 
 I no longer seek refuge at the American embassy, because I’m a
 human right activist
 I no longer live in panic or fear, because I’m a civilian
 Yes! This is the Liberia I wanted.

This is the Liberia I wanted:
 Rising from her chaos into a chariot
 Bringing her children out from battle into Bethel
 Dwelling together through reconciliation and not through retribution
 Yes! This is the Liberia I wanted.

 This is the Liberia I wanted:
 Mighty! Her fame
 Glorious! Her name
 Sober! Her people
Yes! This is the Liberia I wanted 

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Open Letter To The Golden Black Angel

The black angel on earth, the one proud of her skin
The hot chocolate in Africa, the one with glorious power
The ebony strength beneath the sun, the one full of sensuous splendor.

The golden black angel, the one flying the clouds
The shining star in the rich land, the woman defining beauty
The rich, the warm, the dark, the glittering flower breathing in Africa.

Just look at her eyes, the narrow eyes sliding to the sides
Just give a glance to her ruby lips, these syrupy, luscious and tepid lips
Just stare closely at her smile, am sure you are zooming the sun.

I feel her hypnotizing presence, the soothing aroma in the world
I feel her soporific nature, the one that naturally sends me to the sky
I feel her wafting movements, the movements worth every sane eye
I feel her tantalizing voice, Scandalizing my ears to lick it.

Am i forgetting her curves, the curves surpassing enchanted love potions?
Am i forgetting her manners, the manners giving me bedroom tendencies?
How can i? How can i not talk of the African woman? Eh? Tell her i adore her

Yours African,
Mzee Mwau.

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Thread of Hope

As all I’d ever termed wondrous bliss unexpectedly died -
As my fantasy of a reality with destruction did collide -
My hopes shattered around me like glass in countless pieces,
Fragments suspended in mocking beauty as time freezes…

The clock hand ticks forward and it all crashes to the floor
My knees hit rock-bottom when I could take no more
All I now see is blackness where once there was color
Gone appears the light from the sun and its fervor…

I begin to walk away from the pond of shattered dreams
But the glass is in my clothes and cutting through my heart, it seems
Perhaps I am too close, the smoke is clouding my full view-
Glance up at the tower, instinctively know what to do…

Run up the steps; one, two,three hundred endless stairs
And I barely catch my breath, or have time to fill lungs with air -
Before the ground beneath my feet crumbles into sand
Loud thunder above me rumbles as I fall back down on land…

And I hit rock-bottom again
Thinking this must be the end
For surely no human can go through this pain
And still see rainbows through the rain…

The whole world seems gray and black tonight
With not a speck of pure, identifiable white in sight
Nothing is untouched, gone is everything -
Then how do I glimpse in that crack a thin white string?

Among the dirt, surely this uncorrupted clean string is not real
But just to verify the hopeless doubts, I reach out a hand to feel
And to my electric surprise, it’s most tangible indeed
I yank it out attached to a note, uncrumple it and read:

“Verily, with every hardship comes ease” [Quran 94:6]

That white thread...
Of hope.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The lone star of Africa

A new deal was signed
Plantations workers laid down their tools
Freedom songs were sang everywhere
The birth of our liberty emerged

Our heritage we vow to defend
The root of our liberty we sure to protect
Upholding the lone star we will never desert
Its banner over Liberia we shout in victory

A Symbol of the first flag of Africa
Flying over the land and over the sea
Age to age we will never fail
Season in seasons we will fulfill the cause of our liberty

The lone star forever, the lone star forever 
Shinning brighter like a golden flame
The wings of our foes are broken
And we are marching forward to never fall again

Midst low ‘ring skies and thunder storms
The star of liberty waves high in the sky
The sweat of every plantation worker is worthy
 Liberia flag repainted with peace
Shinning forever over all the continents of the earth

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Soul's stolen house

The Brain and the Heart ran into each-other one day
at the Soul's door,whose house had been stolen
After a formal greeting ( they had in common a distant respect)
they entered the house and left their presents.
The Brain had brought a cup full of reasons, ancient and newer wise thoughts,
conclusions of others and of his own,
all his wrinkled substance he had brought.
The Heart had a small bottle with a small, very small quantity 
of love essence in it.
In respect to the Soul's sorrow, they exchanged no words, and left 
each in their own direction, to live end exist separately.
Well, they knew their presents would be enough to refurnish the Soul's home.

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I’ve seen the dawn above a mountain
Lights up like a child with blue eyes.
I’ve seen the dawn-
I’ve seen the dawn where life well’s up endlessly.

With the beauty of old age and gray headedness,
I can tell the tale of a sunrise and sunset

I am an old lady and wise with times
I’ve challenge many difficulties and come alive
Through the passage of times and seasons,
I can only laugh against the pain.

I know the languages of heartbreaks, panics, struggles and troubles.
I’ve tasted the lost of children, mansions, passions and visions.
I’ve seen great kingdoms rise and watch them helplessly run down through the valley of no return.

I am an old lady now; an old lady with worth of experience
I’ve seen the dawn above a mountain
Lights up like a child with blue eyes.
I’ve seen the dawn-
I’ve seen the dawn where live wells up endlessly.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

TONIGHT by Anna Lo P

..The clock ticks, the Time pass
  Coffee I sip, as I taste, Alas!
  One more cigarette, almost up,
  What else is with me, me, still up!

  Waiting for the green light
  Beside your name in chat
  This computer, is already hot
  It's been on, since I last woke up!

  I don't know, I don't care,
  If they say, I look like a scare
  Eyes that look like of an owl
  Since I've been up like a fowl!

  To write another piece
  Of my sadness, of my tears
  The songs I always play
  Make my heart feel in dismay!

  Up all day till night
  Because my heart is in fright
  Will he then tell me"it's not alright"
  That is something I need to fight!

  Oh my! please give me a sign
  To be in sorrow, or should I be fine?
  It feels I'm running out of time
  That's how I feel, for all this time!

  The clock ticks, the Time pass
   Another coffee sips, I say Alas!
   Another cigarette I lit, just to be up
   What else is with me? just a memory on recap!..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What We Shared

Take my hand and help me climb, wedge my tumble,
Let me lean on thee, halt my heart throb, humble
Me with thy warmth. Once there was a guy who
Knew me and identified  with me, my heart
Would skip at the sight of him. "I love you"
He had said to me. His lovely smile
Thought me gentleness. His caress made my 
Heart dream of an eternal bond. And it
came to pass that he found me for a bride
But he passed away with the enraged wind  
Of life and my heart had since endured this 
Coup. None have been like my John, no; Their brain 
Registers no truth. Love is not money,
No, nor is it honey. Love is all so
Deeper than beauty or form. Oh! It's what 
My John and I shared. Beauty shall always
Urge body attraction, attitude shall
Birth true interest and commitment shall 
Birth care. Money maintains love, not money
Brings love, my teacher had once said to me
Rich or Poor, man has a right to be loved.
They say everything  that goes around
Must come around. Let the coin turn it's back
And bring me love with treasured moments or 
Let tide and time reverse, that I might meet
My John, and enjoy what time had denied us.

It is completely fiction.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


                          In my  life , i find pressure to be different and extra ordinary.
it is a struggle;
a battle;
a discomfort, 
and above all a 'challenge' on how to get to the top.
In a super and extra ordinary life , I see myself as a best friend to the Eagle because it settles for nothing less,
A cousin to the Elephant because its strength and courage are unbeatable,
Having a chance to be spoken to by a Beaver because its words are more less like its personality, i.e a hard worker.
Having a chance to hear and know how an ocean really is and what makes it outstanding despite having the same 'waters' as the lakes and rivers.
Being given a chance to run with TIME in the race called ''BIT IT and ATTAIN'' a reward called SUCCESS.
Indeed it is a quest within,
A quest for extra ordinary...

Details | Prose Poetry | |


The cradle of humanity.
The brain behind thousands of civilizations.
The mother of generations and the charm behind many beauties.

Even before empires you were formed.
Even before the days of the pyramids, you were formed.
Before horses took on foots and chariots raced in battle, you were formed.

You gave birth to Kings and Queens and breast-fed many heroes and heroines.
Kingdoms were build and named in you.

Africa- live free, rule well.
Because many things have been said and many more will be said about you.
A- Admirable
F- Free forever
R- Resolved, resolute and resourceful
I-  Indomitable
C- Courageous
A- Attractive

Africa- the cradle of humanity
Africa- live free, rule well.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I stood in the middle of the ocean's palm and travelled along its' finger lines.
These blue waves have stolen the infinity of sky, reflecting my fate signs.
In my heart there is a blank, as I am left alone struggling with a sea unknown.
If you could show me your eyes, I would place your hopes in stars to find height.
Instead, I am burned in fires shaken, in sweaty dreams that end with the first light.
In other words I search for promises, changing places and opening new doors.
Yet, this sea of rain rushes into my expectations, driving me to the same shores.
And I am wondering if life owes us our prayers, our tears, our sentiments of glory.
If not, then we are condemned to expect a fate, a Spring belated to show a fake story.
When nights exceed the dead ends I set, moon is risen laughing at my mortality.
In the cold breeze I face my humanity, fighting in a battle uneven and unfair.
As time passes through my windows, I betray my existence behind curtains flopped.
Eyes of solitude I can't forget visit me between Heaven's and Hell's Gates blocked.
I set fire to my pain and from the ashes I give birth to a fate, in which you are not in.
The greatest dreams I left behind, a compromise I signed and gained the right of sin.
Uncovered distances, chaos in my heart rhyme
For the losses I won't accept as my fear prime.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

There Ain't Nothin' Better Then A Cowboy Lover

He was her part time lover
even though he was her only one
A man you could love
But she’d never let him know…
she had a full time heart            
Although her strings
had some wear and tear
throughout her years.

She wasn’t going to let him put her heart in his pocket.

No, she wasn’t about
to give her heart away
She’d play it cool.
Never let him see her fears
Pretend she was tough
Never cry or show any tears

He was a man,
raised right by his mother
He’d lay a rose upon her pillow
He was a man like no other
There ain’t nothin’ better
then a cowboy lover

His name was Jesse from Montana
He had skin the color of lightly roasted coffee 
from being out in the sun so much
His smile, a bit crooked
made him look a bit mischievous,
in a teasing sort of manner
It could knock your socks off 
if you gazed too long

She met him at a little café’ in Big Sky
leaning against the counter
like a long, tall drink of cool water
Boots, hat and all the makins'
of a real cowboy   

She had slayed the paper dragons of her past
Put them all behind her
She was bold and brave; 
asked for his number
which he willingly gave
with a smile, a little bit crooked,
a bit mischievous
in a teasing sort of manner

They’d cuddle in their blanket
under the stars and the moonlite
listening to Hank Williams songs
drinking coffee around their campfire
telling stories from their pasts;
laughing, snuggling
Before she’d go to sleep at night, 
he’d kiss her cheek 
and hold her close in his arms 
One night as she lay in his arms,
he stroked her cheek 
with his tender touch, 
kissed her lips and held her tight

He said, “What would you do if I asked
"Ask what”, she said?
"Little lady, do you know I love you,
would you kindly be my wife”? 

When he said that to her that 
wonderful nite under the stars
she realized...

She wanted him, to put her heart in his pocket

That was the night 
she gave her heart away

  She wasn’t playin’ it cool
  She let him see her fears
  She wasn’t really all that tough
  Then, she cried and showed him her tears

He was a real man,
raised right by his mother
He laid a rose upon her pillow
He really was a man like no other
Nope, there sure ain’t nothin’ better
then a cowboy lover
                                                    *~The Sweet End~* 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What's the point?

What’s the point 
in living
When death awaits
What’s the point 
in breathing
When you can not 
feel the 
swelling of your 
What’s the point 
in love
When you heart 
only aches
What’s the point 
of being in a 
state of 
When you are not 
really alive
What’s the point 
in doing your 
When it is 
What’s the point 
in making all 
When you are sad
What’s the point 
in smiling 
When your heart 
And that colgate 
never touches 
your eyes
What’s the point
in anything?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

An early song-2

I once joined the procession of colors and lost my heart
Till a wave colors distilled through night knocked me down dead.
Besides the mountain,  the midnight festival of colors is on.
Lying in my arms you imagine your blood is burning in my veins
 I am only listening to the chariot of the queen joining the revelry.

I knew you were being vain when you came to see me
I did know when your heart missed a beat. For the air was my friend.
And the tiny bird building its nest in the rafters of my roof
Did  not bring a straw as long as you talked. 

You never said bye.  For you wanted me to do that. But I had no time 
And kept riding on the wave. The storm is not away. What if I fall.
 Tomorrow I will be lying in these shores caressed to sleep by a smiling sun.

 I don’t have the time to forget you in the endless expanse of this blank night. 
Last night’s sun was but a spot hewn out of the tragedy of the heavens.
A tragedy that  survived the ages to live in my heart in fire and smoke.

You keep away while I create my pieces in these desert sands. When I proceed
 To give them the finishing touches, you shriek in despair. For you think
 I am going to spoil the lovely piece of some great master with my clumsy hands.
Tomorrow is the illegal child of today abandoned in the dark.
I end up at night  and my child is born at night, having passed 
Through  the summer that seared my skin and heart.
The cup of sorrow is never full, so there is no overflowing.
Yesterday we witnessed the winter night breathing its last.
Winter was in lament for the little bird that went up but never returned.

I bear no gifts for you. I know not your names. I know not who you are
But I recognize you without mistake against this backdrop of misery.
I come here with my empty bag to gather the drops of your sobs
And consign them to the flame in my mind leaving your smiles behind.

For: Catie Lindsey's Free Verse contest

Details | Prose Poetry | |


When ever I see the butterflies flying
I am reminded of your smiling face,
As I see them taking wing into the sky
I feel emotions which are never displaced

For deep in my heart also live the butterflies
As they come to life within my heart each day
While I count the many sweet memories of you
Which in my thoughts and dreams now stay

The sheer brilliance of their many vibrant colors
Produce a vivid rainbow deep within my mind
Which fills my heart with such an unwavering joy
Allowing me to enjoy them for endless times

And the butterflies will be my dearest treasure
Leaving me never again quite feeling the same
For the peace they bring can never be measured
As on their wings are gently imprinted your name.

Wendell A. Brown, 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


                                  TREE OF LIFE.

I am He that gives  life to man, yet man knows  me not.
I lived  in the midst of man but man never appreciated  my importance.
Every tree  you can see around gives life; some give life  to aquatics  creatures; while   some terrestrials. 
I  stands as  the  only Tree that man needs  to resurrect    
I was called the Tree of  Life when your fathers were in the garden,
I created the tree of knowledge;  I refused to live inside the tree until fullness of time. 
Fullness of time? Yes.  

Fullness of time when man shall eat me and live forever. 
Other trees rely on me for provisions  till date, all the trees  in all  ages   knee  down  before me for  adoration.
My splendors  are in the  works  I created. 
I am He that you rejected  but was accepted by those  that deserves  life.
All the branches that   are mine  sons and daughters sprout  from me,
I am He  that  gives  life and nourishments to sons of  men.

The  waving  branches  of trees; reminds me of my numerous  glories,
My Source intervened and man departed from mine presence
Then,  man screamed,  and I saw the look at his face;
I said, Oh! one day, I the Tree of Life shall come and die for you and you shall be my branches.
Thought of all kinds  rushing as early streams  in the mind of  men,    
The  mind of man asked: How can you die for me and still have me as  your branch? 
No tree ever dies  and still remain alive to produce branches.
Dies  you said?  Asked the Tree of Life.  
Yes ! death.  It is my destiny  to die.
The glory of your existence is in my death.

In  dispensations  and ages to come, I shall be the vine  and  you be my branches.
The fruits of my Tree that you once denied shall you  eat and speak of its power to nations.
Greater will your fame be than I  when you shall know my knowledge.
I will no longer be in the garden where I was kept and guard  by Angels;  The heart of men shall be my  abode.
All the  branches whom you are, shall  spread the good news, 
 I was written in   engrafted words in tablets; So shall  I in the heart of every man.
I am the Root of roots, the only  Root that carry the universe and never complains.
You once had no access  to me; but  now, through my death  you  have  gained access.
I came as knowledge  from my Source and whosoever  eats  of me,  have the Source of  everlasting life.
You are  in me and I in you. That is why I called  you: Tree of  Life in this era.
All the saints in me, plants  me in all the gardens of the earth till my second coming.
Written by:
Omojevwe Emmanuel Brown

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My name is heard

My pillow is wet
My bed is broken
The keys to my house is lost
Oh! Why oh! Why oh! Why

The floor is my chair
Hunger is my closest friend
The enveloped of sorrow has seal me 
O’ God are there still angels?

I heard a loud voice
It was an usual tune
It spelt out my name
Today, my name is heard all over the world

Unedited copy
Olivia Bedell-Nimley

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Paint the Permanent

I stand before the canvas of my life
with the arsenal of brushes I've been armed with
choosing the paints with which I'll work

My will is to paint the permanent
No watercolors that can wash
My strokes will stain the canvas true

In my art studio my brushes fire
Salvos of sultry reds
Volleys of vivacious violets

But I don't always paint alone
Others there are that share the studio
And though our canvases won't always hang together
A small army of artists are we

Who paint our lives with care
For all the world to see
The hues we use only we may choose
Brazen and bold, subtle, or stark
Soldiers of our arts
Aiming and striking and painting our hearts out
Until we die
And go to the Gallery

But as for me
I stand before the canvas of my life
And the brush is in my hand

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Blind Man

Blind man
Feeling anothers thoughts by touching his hands;
Can you tell who I am by my darker shades that follow the cracked, dry lines of your palms? Do you see what I hide from everyone else like a silhouetted tattoo? Can you tell that a concrete kids game isn't the only thing that almost broke the back of my mothers heart once? Is it the sound of my voice that pierces through your senses that makes you silence the memories deep within the recesses of your past? 
I can see you'd rather forget about it; discouragement is written all over a face that you can't even read. Does that make me better than you? Truth is, I long to see like you. Heighten my senses, Mr. Sphere, so that I may see everything that my two small worlds can't. I want to read a book backward and forward a thousand times without being so anxious to flip forward, because I imagine you're more patient than I am. I want to know the adventures of your vivid dreaming, and how safety sounds like whenever God speaks to you. I want to be able to wrap my head around the concept of appearing to look good even when I know that my clothes, cologne, and character are wrapped around my ego like bandages I never changed; I never knew I was a walking, talking, mummified optimist until I saw the stench of the lies I told myself seeping through the eyes of loved ones. I never again want to make another cry from a false truth. 
Mr. Blind eyes, could you help me to believe that their are others who look like me who see more like yourself? I don't like who I'm becoming, and I want to know that my choices won't be just for show. I want to know that when I look at my wife in her lifelines, we'll both be able to see that death has no real place in the wounds that love has healed. Bandages have to come off and stay off at some point; you'll never be able to move onto greater things until you can live with the sight of scraped knees that made sidewalk scars of your past. I want to carry her in the voice of my care, like a musical note you hold two seconds too long just because you love music. I want to be just like you, so that my child will want to look up and see more than a father worried about his job. I want to see that my breaths can take shape in the form of a beautiful baby. I want to give back.
Are you listening to me?..
God shows himself in rare forms, and sees with his heart when we ask Him out of the honesty of ours. So, by the time we've finished talking, what we've been searching for is already inside of us. God is blind to the sin of those who seek to be saved. Their will always be a second chance if you ask in an honest tone.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunny Days

The Son burst upon my days
taking away the mist and haze
of times less bright.

Now my spirits climb
with anticipation of all tomorrows.
Empty spaces now fill 
as my heart stands still.

Lungs aftaid to breathe
in this illumination.
My heart does feed.

Words no longer on deaf ears fall.
The Son makes translucent my wall.
As day ends and night begins
a velvet warmth now sets in
and tomorrow holds the promise
of sun filled days.

I wrote this poem in 2003

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Curiosity: they say kills the cat,
but the distinct possibility is; that cat was unlucky.

Of not being tough enough to cross that bridge in front of you, is tantamount to 

Of not being willing to break the ice, is like living in utopia.

Of not being a man to stand by your decisions, is a crime against dignity.

Of not being able to break the yoke of fear and prejudice, is like breaking yourself to pieces before your opponent.

Never to see the other side of the coin, will never distrust what is always said.

Only the curious have a tale worth telling.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

I am what you call a hopeless 
But im also a lost lovers cause, my 
heart belongs to another
Yet in my head a love triangle starts 
to form, the girl I love doesn’t love 
She holds the heart to another and 
mine caged to the floor,
She isn’t afraid to fight for what she 
wants, not even when it comes to 
leaving another man torn
Trust me she’s happy, as that boy 
holds her heart ever so close
Seeing what I shouldn’t I smile as I 
wear my blind fold,
Blind to everything around, lifeless 
staring into air
My train of thought running so fast, 
the second I stop you’ll hear a crash
Derailing my hope, for ever finding a 
love so pure & rare
Wishing I could hold the hand of the 
lover who stole my flame,
Wish I could change the last days in 
which we parted ways,
Realizing now that we can never be 
the same
Finally saying it out loud as tears run 
down my face
You stole my happiness, as I walked 
away that day
But it’s because as of what you said 
I guessed I changed,
Now every relationship has just be 
the same,
No one can seem to bring back that 
Because a love likes ours comes 
once in a lifetime
Well at least it does to me,
But I mean you’re happy with who 
your with 
I mean I only wrote this as I heard 
exchanging “I love you” flow from 
each of your lips.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Hopeless

Every night she paints the sky a little darker,
blotting out stars that she’s given up on.
Burning balls of dust that her imagination can
no longer shoulder. Someone else can have
their light; Someone with a little hope left.
She’d rather draw in grey scale memories,
outline them in crimson. It’s a little more 
realistic that way; contemporary at least.
The few last glowing bits in the horizon
give all that is needed for the final strokes
of her legacy. 
A promise to herself,
                               A tribute to the fallen,
                                   A gift for those who are sure wander onto the    
                                    path that she found, so long ago.
"Maybe it will save them.
                                     Give them what they need to find their way.”
She lay her brush unto the stone before her,
and let the grass take the blood from her hands
before she reaches out.
One final star shines in her eyes,
the only one left to guide them home.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I have torn my clothes and sprinkled ashes on my head, I am wounded and my 
blood runs red!

I believed you were my friend, now I realize I was wrong. You used me when I 
provided the things that you desired, but when that was over you cast me aside. 
You have turned your face away from me, no longer do my company you keep. I now 
can see my friend you never were, you were only a parasite, taking what you 
wanted, never caring for me.

My heart is pierced and there is sadness in my mind, I truly cared for you, but your 
feined friendship was merely a subtrafuge the entire time.

How will I learn to trust again, to open up my heart, when such travistry I have 
experienced so many times. Perhaps in time my wounds will heal, maybe then I 
will open my heart again, but warily protected by a shield of steel.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


 I’m better because,
 I’m positive
 I build the right frame of mind
 I dream big
 I’m a believer
 I’m benevolent
 I’m bold

 I’m like the rainbow.

There are
no sinking feelings
 or retrogresses

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Beyond every rainbow
Lies the secret for a new beginning
Hiding behind the beauty of colors
Waiting to find expression

Right inside every rainbow
Lies success and failures
Signaling in sparkling colors
Waiting to answer to a call

After every rainbow
Lies the power of hope
Pointing at the stars in the sky
And waiting to make a star out of us 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

All is well

Though my many belongings be now gone My family members be scattered in distance and in heart Illness has fallen upon my body holding me captive In my heart ... deep within my soul I cry out ... ‘All is well’ For I cannot count my thoughts as good Nor my ways as upright For God’s thoughts are higher, His ways are perfect He is above all ... deep within my soul I cry out ... ‘All is well’ For everything is the Lord’s Thus I am also, therefore because I am His He gets the first fruits of my love and life In my heart ... deep within my soul I cry out ... ‘All is well’

Details | Prose Poetry | |

New life

A dawn of a new day
A new page is turn
A new song is play
A new place to see
A new dance to perform
A new dream to realize
A new vision to stand upon

A new world to live
A new home to make
A new family to love
A new path to follow
A new door to open
A new smile to embrace
A new liberty to experience 

A new hope I possess
A new joy deep within
A new love I cherish
A new heart that glitters
A new voice I recognize 
A new call I honor
A new level I obtain today 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What if I Kissed You

A kiss, a kiss was all I asked for, symbolizing my undying admiration of you as a whole, tainting your lips with ones that have whispered sweet nothings to your ears, ears that I made stand on their toes for the unexpected, becoming more apprehensive, but so much has happened in the past few days, if there's one thing love's taught me, it's that kisses tell a million tales. What if I kissed you right now?.. would it bring us any closer or would we just part like the red sea, would our worlds as is hereafter speak of nothing but the good and our love grow to be as unexplainable as she.. what if I kissed you.. affections expressed in a moment where pet names linger across lips unrelenting. Eyes meet and faces draw together while our minds orbit elliptical periods around one another, deem it a solar system, stop the music like i stole ya rhythm &say we lost ourselves in the heat of our own passion, passing days by enveloped inside ourselves slow dancing to the beat of our hearts. Holding you close like I'd die letting you go, thinking, what if I kissed you right now... Could we make clocks stop till judgment day and be lovers in and out of time like Angelou stated, would be morph to the brink of combustion just being overwhelmed by each others touch, or would we just be? Never afraid of lions tigers and bears, but I cant help but fear becoming so sick, so sick of love sons turned penetrating enomolies like your kisses which obtained keepsake as a copious mannerism in my everyday agenda.. &writing this while you're asleep gives me all the comfort of a fourth wall closure, kissing your forehead as you lay on my shoulder thinking if only i'd done that while you were awake. but she&I were unceasing, so the kisses we'd share were even more memorable than Victoria's best kept secrets...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Real Mother

She felt it on her shoulders
When her husband lost his sight
Many school fees to pay 
Much food to feed children
She was just an apprentice nurse 
Working at the government hospital
In Harper city, Maryland county

She woke up very early
Daily walk to her place of work
She retire at night in her small shop
She makes sure her children studied 
But her tears were invisible

She couldn’t afford receiving her salary
The storms of school fees and book swallow it
She work all through her years
Preparing her children for brighter future

The dark hand of civil war surface
When parents ran without their children
Children without their parents
Husbands without their wives 
And wives without their husband
But she kept her family

In the midst of terror and tension
When human bodies, human skull,
Human bones lied along the roadside
She escapes with her husband into exile
She is a real mother
Who kept her vow deep within her heart
As a treasure that couldn’t be stolen

Details | Prose Poetry | |









Details | Prose Poetry | |

Caring Bears

People might say that I don't care
But by compare
Even a Care Bear know his roots and is aware 
All the pain that all mothers share
The whys and when of then and there
Love is all that really matters 
Just the greed that we should fare

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Like An Angel from God

Years passed with no attempts at finding the one,
The one to cherish forever and call mine.
My inner soul sometimes cried from loneliness
But was it a simple relationship I had been yearning for?
Or was I crying out something so much more?
I could feel the struggle between body and mind
The scorn, 
How it left my heart completely torn.
I began to think I would never taste,
But not a normal taste,
I began to think I would never get that real taste of Love.
Realizing Love was no abomination,
That it was possible
Possible for anybody…
And like an Angel from God 
I found my one
The one to call mine
I felt as if I had bamboozled Loves obstacles.
The one that I now call mine is like no other
She undoubtedly is something special. 
Our Love has only begun to bloom
But the tender touch of her heart against mine,
Makes the passion and Love for one another burn like an endless flame

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Moon Walker

A great man with a powerful voice – died mute-

Sold over a quarter of a million albums – died with records of debts-

Performed before millions and made them all happy- never had the chance to be happy himself-

Crown with dignity and prestige – buried with clay and dust. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Natural starting points

Natural starting -Point 

 The subject of a poem is the idea or thing that the poem concerning or represents
 I review about 15 poem this morning.. and the feeling I got from them, the writer attitude
 toward the subject matter.
As a reviewer I cannot praise all the poems that I review. however, I can only encourage them to thrive ... some had a bit or irony , the tone were playful and some of them were some serious submits

Poetry Soup is a wonderful site...
let encourage each other to aim higher..

one love annie L

Details | Prose Poetry | |

War dance


The war dance is about to start
The country devil is getting dress
The dancers are warming up
The sasa is sounding
And the kola is prepared

Farmers rushing to the town
The cutlasses sound on the rock
The men are moving forward
Leaves in their mouth
Fire coal on their body

Every village is participating
The whole town in action
People moving forward and backward
Gazing at the dancing arena

The country devil appeared
The hunting dogs put their tales in
The country devil face cannot be seen
His legs are long like the tallest tree in the world
His height is a plane in the sky
Oh! What a seen

All the women move a distance
The men have taken charge
The dancers are shaking the ground
Dust is every where
The drummers are giving real sound
Du-ka   du du ka- ka ka du du du
The country devil shakes his body
Brings out fire from his mouth
The town chief smiles
And all the villagers unite

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Slipping Sleeping Gently

Too elevated for sleeping
I crave agape' pleasure
Totally slipped up
Down I go
Tripping on dream steps
Each one with its own 
Pleasure and pain
But good pain
Falling as in the season
Into you deeper
Ever closer to the bottom
REM, the flicker of it
Toggles between here and gone
With hands beyond, outside
Morbidity I grasp a melancholy melody
A still small voice of reality
You whisper " I love you, sleep good."

Details | Prose Poetry | |

jane doe ll

she  beckoned my soul i sat in fear 
nothing to focus on except writing a tear 
she busted through the window to her surprise
sitting with me was  st john paull 11

suddenly this opened her eyes
it was my identity she was after 
her name was jane i was yolanda
but very plain not vain 

this thief was after my thoughts 
plagerist jane whispered threats 
she wanted my song
i expressed to her 
id been writing too long

she was from tampa and i chicago 
living in tampa and fort myers
 jane was vile climbing through 
my townhome window ripping pages 

from my night stand exposing herself 
to my diary quickly she grew obssessed 
with  my culture in chicago my heritage
 with mayor daley cicely tyson 1971

joseph medill school finally lincolns tomb
i studied in springfield illinois 1969
jane was enraged with my identity
for every page i wrote classified who i was
8000 munchen 90 touring of germany 

she threatened my life
from guns to poison i sat with my pope
a feeling of purity a since of hope 
she would join corruption 

fraudulently  using my name 
threatening me daily
all the same i continued 
to write pant and cry
i gather i shall till the day i die

Details | Prose Poetry | |


She emerge out of man
Deepest part of his rib
Woman o’ woman
Waited for life expression

She is a true portion of man
The secret of his strength
The secret of his weakness
The secret of his first love

She is full of nature’s beauty
Her virtue like a blossom flower
Her heart full of man’s respect
Her ability worth many shooting stars

Woman is peculiar
She rises with the sun
She sleeps only when the moons signal
And she aims for the sky

She breaths patience 
She talks courage
She sings true family life
And she smiles love
She ignores blocks of limitations

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nelson Mandela

Oh! The rivers flow quietly
The wind blown naturedly
Angels toured mvezo Village
Looking for a man
To bring forth, oh! To bring forth
Emancipation to South Africa

Noquphi Nosekeni the privileged woman
Answer to the call of nature July 18, 1918
Baby Nelson Mandela touched the land of apartheid
He grew like an ordinary child
He played with his peers
In him his lion was waiting

He saw the affliction of his people
And refused to dance the music of apartheid
He traded his comfort for freedom
And gave his life as ransom
He saw tears of his people overflow the land
In him his lion prepared to explode

Apartheid prepared a new home for him
The prison door opened in 1963
The chains etched into his flesh
Hunger was his closest   companion
Hard labor became his career
In him his lion sought a solution

His speeches blasted apartheid ambushes
He gathers the stones for all Goliaths
Daily prayed for the truth to prevail
Angels sent from above
The prison opened and presidency came forth
And his lion devoured apartheid forever

Details | Prose Poetry | |

War experience

I walked many days
Looking for a place of safety
My mattress on my head
No food and money
My feet rise like yeast
And my strength is fainting

Rebels shooting everywhere
Bullets on target
Bullet missing targets
My heart fills with pain
My eyes fill with tears

The road is crowded
Everybody moving to nowhere
Freight gave me his garment
No strength to move further
I gather dry leaves to sleep
And cold blanket me

Rebels patrolling every street
Ready to eliminate anyone
I hid in a tree
Watching every action
And ants visited me

Worried about my situation
Less rebels look up the tree
The ministry of angels I remembered
All the rebels went into deep sleep
And I walk freely into safety

Details | Prose Poetry | |

its you that i want

it's you that i want,
i want nobody else
though your best-friend has lovely eyes
and adorable features,
her face is full of light,
her heart the softest
of all hearts,
her touch angelic,
her walk majestic
the look in her eyes,
like the Aurora Borealis.
but its you that i want.
it's you that i want
i want nobody else,
your sister maybe:
with her petal soft skin,
hair like Rapunzel's
always attach me to her,
her face like Cleopatra,
makes her the most adorable,
being i should be with,
but its you that i want.
it's you that i want
i don't want nobody else
i have many ladies on my list
those with big hips,
soft lips,
heavenly eyes,
petal touches,
but its you that i want,
being with you is like:
watching the Victoria falls,
walking with you is like,
scaling Mt. Everest,
knowing that you are mine is like
owning the Harbor of Rio de Janeiro
waking next to you is like
waking on the Great Barrier Reef
in your eyes i see
the northern lights
when you hold me
my heart imitates the Paricutin
and when they see us together is like
watching the Grand Canyon.
to me you are the 8th wonder of the world
hence its you that i want.. . .
. . .'s you that i want. . . .

Details | Prose Poetry | |

O' Darkest Night

“O my love, my wife!  Death, that hath suck’d the honey 
of thy breath,  hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.”  

Last we kissed, where summer’s lease hath too short a date,
and winter’s chill laid a breath upon thy face,
hath stell’d thy brightest smile.
Sweet coral days frail blight to rust, and now mine empty hands,
to wring despair from what will never be.
O, behold my eyes that weep, and empty arms that flail
So blind I am! I cannot fly on broken wings! 
No other love could ever grieve so well. 
Shall hence, I now exist an empty shell?
O’ she of flaxen hair, fair cheeks so pale,
My love is as a fever, longing still.   To never be again?
My sorrow greater than the darkest night.
Disquiet of my heart cries out beyond the distant stars.
O' fate thy has forsaken, canst thou, O' cruel!
Sweet love so rare, a thing beyond compare. 
Where whence my love, once like the lilac full
The blossom fragrant, o' so sweet as whippoorwill
Ere' slumber's chain has bound me.
Weary I am with pain, I haste me to my bed
Where dreams will keep us never parted
Linked to thee forever, I will ever be upon my death
With day, by sun awakened, again I must recall
Thy song has waned, the garland dead
Whence dost return new storms, again to bring mine tears
Yea, gentle are mine dreams where thee appears. 
Linked to thee forever, I will ever be, 
upon the blade, upon the sword, asleep
My swollen heart with anguish weeps…forever is my love to keep.

For The Contest : Romeo and tragic is love
Sponsored by *A Wandering Butterfly*

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Only Friend

In the iron grey days of the 1950's change changed everything, good or bad,
Tom, who was the local coal-man for this area, a hard man of steel but kind,
He tried to speak but no words would come, he just pointed, on to the road,
Following his gesture, outside was a new motor lorry for his rounds, no horse.

In broken and heart wrenching sobs, he said, they had taken away my old horse,
He's been sold to another firm and I will never see him again, he's gone away,
Tom loved that horse, his life was built around it, morning evenings, weekends,
In his own time Tom would trim and groom that horse, it was his closest friend.

They never said me that my dearest friend was going I had no time to say goodbye,
He's probably in a new place now waiting for me to come and take him back home,
I know that horse he is my only family, I bet he is really worried he will so sad
He probably thinks I have deserted him because I don't love him that's not true.

I bet he is in a stable, his big brown eyes moist looking around all the time,
Any door that opens he will think it is me, he will be excited then really hurt,
He will miss our long talks together in the evenings he used to nod his long face,
He will be in a panic, like me, waiting for his dad who will never see him again.

A strong man who carried tons of coal everyday he had no family only his horse,
Brought up in a state run home never lucky enough to be picked by any families,
His horse was his friend who new all of Toms deepest secrets, tears and sorrows,
Tom left his new lorry where it stood, with heart wrenching sobs he walked away.
I watched him go, there was nothing I could say there was a painful lump in my throat.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


She makes… rainbows sprout from her fingertips with every touch of my corpses flesh, her angelic
 presence, bringing sunshine to my cheek with lips unshaded, her kisses, were full of sun beamed 
pleasures and, all I could do was steal them, steal love from the heart of one whom I felt, I’d never be 
deserving of. Introducing life to the hands of one broken, tattered by his past and scared of the déjà 
vu. Only hoping that she, could wipe the waterfalls from his grassy planed face. When she did so much 
more with just a stare, she, penetrated his mind and made him fall so… so peaceful like. With truth only 
found in the way her hands serenaded his cheeks as her lips marinated his and we fade… into 
teardrops in the ocean, knowing I’d drown forever for a kiss on my corpse cheek just to know… that 
you’ll always love me and never hurt me… not like the others did. Fear is the death of bravery, but I’d 
soon go toe to toe with the rights to your eternity to prove that, we were made for each other. 
Carrying the cross for my own crucifixion if it’d show how much I love her. &you could pierce my body 
and all I’d bleed is the reasons I love her, then die and be reborn on the 23rd hour to prove that… I 
could never go a day without her. So I ask you, what else do I have to prove?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Why are we parted ?
without saying farewell
moved on and.. 
left each other..
tears ,sighs everywhere ..
half-broken hearted I'm
half-broken hearted you..may be ..
my days are passing by as quite as your lips
weary nights are all alone..
like a  moon lives alone among throbbing  stars..

you looked into my soul and one day you promised 
that we'll be never apart ..
there was a spell -bound between you and me 
 unheard ..unspoken 
we had to move on together ..forever 
but Alas !! we broke all promises 
you tore my heart ..
and set it on fire .
why are we parted now? 
were we just decepting  each-other ? 
were our hearts lying my dear ?

Now I ask my heart ..
can I forget the moments ?
we shared together 
spent together
laughed together ..
cried together ..

And I find my heart silent 
it's just drowning in sorrow day by day 
Ask your heart my dear ..
what it whispers to you ?
can you forget all those moments ?
we shared together ..
spent together ..

Can you forget my dear ?
can you forget "ME "my dear ?

just ask your heart !!
just ask your heart !!!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Moments to Reflect Forgotten Valentine

 Moments to Reflect 2/5/2013
                                              The forgotten Valentine
The Lord is my shepherd and the keeper of my hope and dreams. I hold Him close to my heart so that we are never far apart. The love of my life and in this I take delight. His light will always be seen in me in all things that I do. The way I walk even when I talk. For it is not what inside of you that defiles you, it’s what comes out. 
My trust in the Lord is sight unseen and it is my faith that keeps me clean. My problems may be many but there is no need to worry; because my belief is just too strong. Can’t you see that in Jesus, you will not go wrong? Your love is so pure and clean it gives life new meaning; Rose are red, reminds me of the blood you did shed and violets are blue there no truer love than you. There a song in my soul that sends my spirit high and I will praise Jesus until the day that I die; in doing this I know that I will be by His side. Keep in mind of what Jesus divine nature is not all mine and it not hard to find. It’s the gift that the Father has given to all of mankind.
Now I tell you about a Child that was born in glory, salvation was the pearl that was bought into this world and this is His story. To the poor and the despaired He gave hope and healing, with His power reveling. Love and praise the people did give. All that He wanted was for us to stop sinning. To you I give a thousand roses and a million kisses for you are a truly my blessing. The dead He did raise, and life He gave. Those that were in power never did they honor; but instead they fear the One who was foretold as the prophecy before their eyes was unfolded. Crime they cry and this was the lie that sentences our savior on earth to die. A thousands tears is not enough I fear; so in my heart I will hold you dear.
From the Heaven to the earth He came to teach us a way, from the earth to the cross, a debt He paid, from the cross to the graves, from the grave to the sky He ascended home to His throne. There He sits waiting for those that he paid that prices so that we might have life and have it more abundantly. Having faith and trust in the Christ you will find an everlasting life free from suffering in a paradise. You will always be my Valentine love.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Secrets in the Cinema

Persuaded by it's concepts 
Seduced by it's allure.
The promise of temptation. 
Shaping ideals. Shaping our world, you continually strive to shape.
Politics and romance excite you. Families find comfort in your story telling. 
Hypnotising us with fiction and non. 
A film is an intimate process, you deliver splendid.
You can expect a change in our physic,
Buried deep. 
Cinema, you have challenged an army.
Film, you have influenced behaviour, expectation and fascinated us.

Copyright © Christina Clark

Details | Prose Poetry | |


My heart stop sometimes and then it skips beats what is it 
telling me???

That my life is short and if I don't get you back it will stop 

Come back to me and heal this froze heart of mine take me 
into your arms
and embraces me with this pain 

Give me that nice and understanding part of you bring the 
sun into my darkness of love that I have because 

of you life couldn't be better without use together so open 
up them windows and let the sun shine in

Renew our friendship to inreplaceable pull together the 
strength of love and forever keep use hole

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What makes an artist?

To define an artist first
One must define art
What is art? 
Is it a depiction of beauty?
An expression of perspective?
A representation of a view on life?
All of these things – and more – 
Art is the best of all that
Humanity has to offer.
It is how we redeem ourselves
For war and destruction.
Some use paint on canvas
Others needle and thread
For still more, it is the 
Written word they manipulate
to convey the meaning 
inside their heads.
Each of us has
an artist inside
and we all find our ways
of letting it out.
Through dance, poetry
cooking, singing, carving;
each of us has a deep 
expression of beauty within us.
To keep our sanity in
this brutal world of 
take and take
we must find our muse
and let it guide us
to whatever makes us 
more whole, more complete.
We must each of us
find the artist within,
for what is an artist
but simply
someone that allows 
their real self
to speak.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Michael Jackson

Natty gale appeared with precious tunes
Great tunes the world have never heard
He looked for a vessel all over the world
But couldn’t fine one
Oh! He wondered how music could live forever
Suddenly, august 29, 1958 natty gale saw a bright star over Gray Indiana
The stars lead him to the labor room
He saw Katharine Jackson holding baby Michael
He took the baby and breathe into his nostril
Transferred all the precious tunes he possessed 
Behold, all the voices of the birds drop into Michael

The sun and the moon fulfill their duties
His gift could not be ignored 
His talent couldn’t be limited
At a very early age he was ready
As a member of the Jackson five
His package of precious tunes began to express themselves 
He discovered music the world was waiting to hear
He saw the audience tears as he performed
But he remembered he was a vessel chosen by natty gale
To heal the world by music 

A notable philanthropist and humanitarian
Heal the world foundation his flight to charity
Reaching out to the less privileged all around the world
He wept the tears in many lives
His heart was full of compassion for children
He saw the need for orphan to live a life of fulfill
He invited the rain to fall on the thirsty
He demonstrated his caring life style in music

The only king of pop on this planet 
O’ what a great remarkable entertainer
His music will live forever in our hearts
Generations to come will still feel the impact of his music
Suddenly, June 25, 2009 he said goodbye
The biggest bomb that blasted the world
We know he didn’t want to say goodbye
But he weaved to us with fresh music singing in his soul

Unedited copy
Olivia Bedell-Nimley

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Portrait of a Water Lady and I

There she is, rainbow hued, hazy viewed clues.
The whistle chimed waves clear her unspoken throat.
Pardon Lady's wispy tension, a molder of falling sand. 
A maker of details form the reality of dreamlife.
It is not man-made, it's spirit. 
From one withheld, on a roof full of heating. 
It's the heart vision, it's her only heart vision, 
The only seer of the whole. 
The sea dragon's bucket of snails
make it through the tunnel portal,
and we all gather through.
There Lady then goes, 
off to the Wizard's shell. He's cloaked in 
red and white, the colors of woman and man.
They're both pleading, seething,
 kneeling beside the shelled faces.
 Sparks, that near cover her wreathed, flowered, dress of sea flowers.
As iridescent pyramid easter eggs rain down.
Armored in bright lace, the rhythms of twirls and braids shall 
claim pertinence to the deep blue whale's song, the whale clothed
in water, salt, and Lady's most hidden dreams.
A Wizard Whale's Lady, protected with beauty.
Zero point with no ego, no confession to claim.
The breathed memory between her salty fingers
lights a candle to rebirth her soul. 
Hello my little fellow,
long lost pearly weeping willow,
I've come to find my ocean.  
My voice adorned with sight.
I flew to and from her, a maker of undone.
She was veiled in white memory, 
a blanket of weight brushed off her.
A flaming moment floating in her watery hoping heart. 
Sunk under sun drenched waters,
 gazed shackles flew away.
Exceeding through three door frames,
not separate from the grey portrait of a sculpture.
Tightly knit and finely tuned,
 with heavy chisels of confirmation. 
I will spit if I have to, and then I will cry after.
For I will only listen to my bloody heart.
The emotions are blatant, the tuned in 
question that purge's forth, 
is more meaningful with an identity gone.
But we are never lost,
we are dreaming in the ocean's Wingdom,
the Angel's castle cloud held tight.
Alyssa Couture

Details | Prose Poetry | |

She Dreamed of Icarus- Portrait In Indigo

She seemed to be like a portrait...
   which had fallen from its gilded frame
   Lying face down on the empty, cold wintry floor. 
An elegantly created portrait once painted in striking hues of indigo blue.
   Her eyes told a story of  bittersweet, magenta colored sorrows
That etched themselves throughout the frail, intricately woven canvas of her soul
Over time...
   Thoughtless hands subtly contrived and manipulated the beauty of her painted portrait Into a resemblance -  likened to that of a cold chiseled statue
   Calloused, careless fingers molded her - lancinating the fragile fragments of her spirit
Leaving her heart with the etoliated, worn material - called her life                     

She dreamed of Icarus - soaring down on steel wings
   Shrouded in cobalt, magenta clouds- with outstretched, feathery fingers...
Lifting her up to dance with him in a Stravinsky ballet...
   As it is was meant to be
Not how it was                
She was a beautiful, delicate butterfly...
   Bruised by many shadows in her world
Leaving her unable to fly away from its thirsting arid rain filled skies
   It left her struggling to stay afloat in the spring's melting snow
Life had bruised her tender skin...
    Gnawing away like insatiable insects on her delicate pink frescoed soul
Leaving her feeling like a fabricated, plastic manikin on display...
    For all to pose her as they selfishly may
Muddied soil was the blood that coursed through her veins
    Holding her tethered heart in fleshy, lumpy mounds of dark, chocolate brown earth 
It held her helplessly clogged in the dirt...
    That descended down in the empty spaces of her soul...
Like the muddied strings of yellow, tattered maize 
    That entwined their ragged tassels through her life flowing veins...
Choking off the blood she needed to nourish her weakened, hungry heart 
Mighty winds toppled her willowy, limber tree...
    Snapping the delicate boughs of her arms
As it pulled at the fleshy bark of her skin
    She stood cold and alone in the cold wintry night...
Wrapped only in her naked flesh - with open, bleeding indigo wounds
    Standing under the icy, mist of the cold, winter moon...
Her heart and soul painfully revealed - in shades of indigo blue


 Anne P Murray


Details | Prose Poetry | |


I need to purge my blood of these shivers, smoke-filled bubbles burst in blood capillaries, an embolysym of you, an embolysym of truth. So much disease carried through an artificial vein.A wire mesh heart that surrounds the tissue, and cuts, and scrapes and tears the flesh thats pulsing there. My iron lung feed me unwell. A binge on sickness that I cannot take back. And with words settling back on the heels of my fingertips, Im ready to be ill. Emesis of b***s***, of treachery. Of indecency, of dishonesty, of facelessness, of cowardice. Will anyone ever read this and understand how a broken heart heals? The maliciousness of untrust and the misuse of of courtesy have eaten away at my regenerated liver. My borrowed kidney is rejected on the operating table and I am drained of all my poisoned blood. So give me a heart outside of my body, a big plasticine box with rubber tubing. And let my eyes see the you drain out of me and the blood of unknown angels be filtered in. I wanna watch every drop be filtered from my collapsing veins, I wanna deflate every organ inside and empty every nerve synapse of memory.I want a restart button and I want a renewable source of energy. I dont want your weak blood in me anymore. I dont needd your tiny bits of protein, your half-formed enzymes. I want  anything else. An artificial sense of safety within my reach. So split me down the middle, no anesthesia, the scalpel working inch by bleeding inch. and seperate me from you.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Garden Club Ruse part 1 of 2

For years no one ever had a clue...
Of the secret she one knew..
The child inside her never shed a tear...
Although she lived everyday with fear...
She grew up never knowing what love was...
Till that fateful day, when he met him on the bus..
He was tall and handsome and had a great smile...
Knew all the words making her feel worthwhile...
They fell in love and soon were married...
And that’s when things changed...the love got buried..
The days were long and the nights were lonely...
They seldom spoke, and if only...
She hadn’t seen that ad...this never would have happened..
Join the Garden Club today and...
 wipe all your cares away 
There’s more to this story..I must conceive...
So please follow this sequel and I believe....
You will stop and think of the words I wrote...
And perhaps even take your own personal note....

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The long time pain washed away

It’s now washed away
My heart now breaths calm like the Lake Malawi
 As my instincts told me to calm down
She now comforts me better than before

I know she was meant for me
But I am too weak to prove it to her
I guess she now knows about that
I hope her decision is final but my mine on her it is

I love her but she caused me a heart break
But I don’t back down that’s why I am back now
In trouble I move and in love I flirt
You came back corrected the mistakes you made

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The rod of Moses

The red sea surface before me
Deep valley at my sides
My pharaoh case after me
Oh! Where is my Moses

I have suffered in Egypt
Promised Land still far away
My pharaoh has no mercy
Oh! God where is my rod

I heard the sound of horses
Galloping fast to stop my vision
The ultimate voice showed me the rod
Today, the rod of Moses brought me out of Egypt 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ninth Fable

 Ninth Fable 
Ninth Fable 
Tragic Love 
Internet Love 
The Love eye have for ewe is just the same as iff we wed. 
The feelings that she gives me are never filled with dread. 
But nothing she can dew would make me ever want to wind up dead but the 
living do the love they do the life time instead. Eye could walk the halls of memory 
and get depressed or eye could become a nun in convicted pleasure and rest in 
convent until death can dew us part death can give me rest but what of love. How 
can a man get so excited at a little green dot a few mouse clicks and then a cold 
white chat box. The ink is never wet upon mye crinkle paper yet there it is its love. 
When she smiles at me eye smile when she frowns eye weep a river of the 
stuffins kept inside it all comes flowing out to make a wrongful death seem 
somehow write the words upon the mended heart depart from worry and from 
woe and take the brand new start and soon it all works for love. Snow White she 
ate the apple and then fell to fast asleep but Charlax came to kiss her and 
awakened her to live. Prince Charlax kisses good. 
Live upon the creek bank fishing for dragonflies in a house of love. Mending heart 
of Charming. Making love in heart. Mye snow white turtle love my pookie 
pochoucntous love my internet thrall. We can have it all just hold on to my 
namme and love. 
Researchers have now proven that love can mend a broken heart. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


If I were To walk the edge of the moon and 
bark like a loon
Or be angry at the blazing day and shun the 
night as I lay;
I would feel glory so sincere for what I revere
reverencial fear from bullets of thoughts so clear
Amidst the wasted youth of candy coated truth
Lies the callous disregard of the heinous and marred bloodied and scarred
But I maintain
Strain to maintain on an sland of insane...
Then I if a stranger spoke~


Details | Prose Poetry | |


The heart aches for it's loses
But the Spirit comforts pain

As we loose that which we love
God fills our heart where emptyness was

Look toward heaven for His touch
Then that sorrow fills you

He takes joy in giving us His Love and Comfort
Take comfort in His peace and assurance

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Oprah Winfrey

The day broke peacefully in Kosciusko, Mississippi
The morning came with gladness over the city
Flowers smile at the morning breeze refreshing
Her birth did not attract television attention
She came in disguise with a local identity
January 29, 1954, planet earth recorded her name
But history had no intention of identifying with her

She wore handmade potatoes dresses
She was mocked amongst her peers
She tasted her tears at an early age
She struggled to defeat the battles hindering her future
She mounted on the wings of a university scholarship
Landed at Tennessee State University
Then, history began to notice something peculiar about Oprah

Speech and performing arts is the vehicle
She drove to get at her high places
She ignored all the bus stops along the highway of life
She appreciate her grandma’s concrete foundation
She acknowledge her father disciplinary impact
She boarded success flight with assurance
And history began to trace her everywhere

She is the world most philanthropic celebrity
She established Oprah Angel Network for the underprivileged
She established Oprah Winfrey leadership Academic 
She is the first to receive the Bob Hope award
She is the world most influential woman
And history welcomes her in his book 

She settled with the Oprah Winfrey show
Her impact is felt all over the world
She has the right words for every situation
She ask the right questions to expose the whole truth
She embraces the hottest stories in the world
She always satisfy the desires of her viewers
History announces her sun that keep shinning on every color and every generation

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Picking up from the dust and washing off from the past is taking me: days, weeks, months, and years. I hold myself from feelings of frustrations and rages. Because I must go on and not dwell in the dark places of my mind. Deception is the most hurtful feeling that can come across a man. Some of us will be forever young, while the others weary away. As I embark on a journey one way or the other, I will not envision the past and its pain. It’ll not get better until I shall have really struggle to let things go, looking ahead to a new day; a brighter day. Fame, money, and power are the fantasies of today. If you don’t believe it, maybe it will take another generation for the truth to be told. It’s a tragedy because many of us will go to our graves still feeling lonely, confused, misunderstood, and out of place.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Around the floor She flutters, Like a butterfly diving in the Blues on the sky. Her each and every step Has an intoxicating, Maddening power Which overwhelm All the spectators. A great dedication and much Determination on her Each foot step. She feeling the rhythm Like her heart beat. Each & every notes of The melody she clearly Painting by every foot-step. A dance so elegant, A dance so brilliant, A dance around the ballroom floor, So sweet, sensual and alive. A flawless flow with the melody With such a delightful grace. Every steps, each moves, A dance filled with love and passion.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


The rising sun has become the fallen star.
It was when the moon shined no more.
It was when the sun walked away into its shell.
Then the rain came and washed all away into a deep valley.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love: The Perfect Murder

When I am drowning I want you to be the water crushing down on me, escaping my 
last breath. When I am shot I want you to be the stinging bullet the pierces my skin. 
You will be the blood flowing from the hole in my heart and you will be my heart 
pumping the blood out to my death. When I am sad you will be the feeling of 
warmth upon my cheeks and the salty taste on my lips from tears. When I am 
overjoyed you will be the stretch of skin across my face. You will be the twinkle in 
my overflowing eyes. You will be the memories pressing against my skull when my 
head aches. You will be the blade perfectly slicing my skin. You will be my anger 
releasing vulgar words and you will be my pointing finger. You will be the reddening 
of my face and the burning of my pride. When I am fed up I want you to be my rage 
that puts a hole in the wall. When I am heartbroken you will be the glass shattered on 
the floor. When I am choking your hands will be the ones around my neck. When I 
stand before myself in front of the mirror, you will be my reflection staring back at 
me. When my veins are bursting I want you to be the needle that punctures them. 
When I have given up on my survival, I want you to be the icy cold touch that 
consumes my body. When I have decided enough is enough I want you to be that 
little voice in the back of my head. When I let myself fall from the sky I want you to 
be the wind that carries me to the bottom. When I have fallen to my death you will 
be the blood stained carpet on which others will later stand. You will be the jealousy 
tearing away at my soul when I witness happiness. You will be my broken wings on 
which I try to fly away with. You will be reality destroying my every thought. You 
will be my emotions draining from the bottom. You will be everything that no one 
has ever wanted except me. When I am buried you will be the dirt holding me down. 
You will be the worms and bugs feasting on my body. You will be the forever coffin 
that surrounds my sleeping self.

Written December 16, 2008

Details | Prose Poetry | |


A child is pure
A child is innocent
A child is a gift
A child is a blessing

A child appreciates comfort
A child survives with care
A Child strength is love
A child needs full support

A child is a hero in disguise 
A child has unrevealed talents
A child has greatness the future awaits
A child possess ideas the world
Needs for transformation

Details | Prose Poetry | |


For EWE Easter Sunday 
IN a series of three egg poems it stormed. It rained ICE into the desert there is still ICE 
there on the hill side in mye distance the stuff pelted my covers all night forcing me into a 
fighting crouch to stay alive eye resembled nothing lest except a baby falcone inside her egg 
before She hatches eye waited for the daylight coming trying to accept the fate of all 
homeless people when then the sun arose all around me long enought to let me dry mye 
things before putting toys away when the falcone come she sat her distance preening drying 
feathers twisting head just giving me theye theye theye she turns her head this way and that 
sort of drinking eye with heart and sight so nice it was to see mye falcone scrye. It cleaned 
mye heart of hate and once again renewed eye faced this Easter Sunday day. Iff this were 
not enought an added ancedoted ed.note.ed see charlaxfabels the falcon cry fable number 
one then continue on to egg poem too and thence to number three or egg poem thrice. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heaven rain

The sea is drying fast
The fishes are gasping to breathe
There is no hope anywhere
Oh! Sea how will be fishes survived

The last portion of the sea is crowded
Every fish wanting to live
This portion can’t contain all
O’ god at creation you did the usual

Every fish remembered God ability
Heaven sent immediate rain
The ocean, rivers and sea are fill 
Now the fishes can live again

Details | Prose Poetry | |

First Black President of America

The sun is rising on the wings of history
The emergence of a hero in the black race
His star glitters in the sky
His vision strong in faith

He ignored storms others encountered
He faced challenges ahead of him
He focused on his target with determination
He appreciates the coat of many colors his grandma made for him

He wears crown of integrity
His policies not compromised
Out of him flow words of intelligence
O’ his heart after perfection

He is an agent of change
He is an agent of transformation
He is an agent of unity
He is an agent of progress

What a historic presidency to remember in America 
The dreams of many ancestors becomes a reality
Tears of every color has embrace an angel
O’ what a life time bridge he completed

He love America from the depth of his heart 
He vow to serve his country for a change
He hears the trumpet call his name 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Time

Cold commercial relics of industrial production;
As if production could harness the complex origin of pre-classic contemporaries.
Master’s of earthly arts and masonry,
Their blood and fears culminating in celestial creations of historic proportions;
Over vastly constricting landscapes.

I send phalanges of lost connection,
Deep past the ordinary boundaries of normal paths.
The sandy soil nourishes my calloused souls.
At night it soothes and refreshes the canyons between cracked and missing digits.

Frogs echo through the expansive night sky.
Resonating between the stars, and returning in an extremely complex yet simple pattern, 
their message is sent.
Louder with each chirp and bellow, subtle patterns illuminate the differences in each response.

The spring has come.  
Time to refresh the foot’s connection with continual movement.
Let your bellow dig deep to the soil of space’s horizons,
And return rooted in the rhythm of earth’s timing.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Remember my ways and words- Do not put your trust in mortal man. Let that be your guard in life. Sanity will chase after you, when you display equity and justice.
Always watch and learn. Be humble.

Details | Prose Poetry | |



Eye am risking the loss of some merits to at least prove to some of you that to do 
the works of JESUS is the right and lawful thing to do the man was just like me 
he seems to be a homeless and eye asked him to share my food he said no he 
was taken care of a food card from the service. Eye wound up giving nothing but 
a courtesy yet my blessing is unending the words that JESUS speaks are meant 
to be the life we breathe and giving is so certainly the thing to do. Not bragging 
unnecessarily just letting people knoe to do the works he says to do. Offer 
someone food if they can take it it will help you if they refuse it you can eat it 
seems to me there is nothing there to lose. Now the food eye have to eat is better 
for the act of sharing even the man is not eating with me the food it's doubly 
better in proportions. Show me the house that's built on stilts that's built on sand. 
There is a temporary church that meets inside the main church building they 
usually start the service at nine thirty today they went out on a run away there was 
no church service even eye usually go just to knell down near the table and thank 
Jesus for the offering there there is Coffee and some coffee cake and other 
things as well but today eye am on mye own attempting more than one thing at a 
time it seems beyond the eye trying to stay hooked into the wonder of this life for 
it seems like GOD is just like Santa Clause to me when we have it in our heart to 
do he sees it just the same. 
Eye still carry my raincoat my umbrella even though it has not rained for many 
weeks I'm ready. The place eye like to visit has been pulled out from under me 
the preacher needs to visit his own prayer room just to see how dark his heart is 
to become without his love. He warned me not to trespass and so far eye have 
not been back but the wonder of it all is that the place still seems to stand a 
monument to decadence a monument to disgrace. They knoe that eye am 
homeless eye still walk the street without a place. The blankets in the dump 
seem so nice when eye am cold. Foolishness or wisdom tell me preacher what 
would you do when the sky was falling would you stick your turkey neck up to the 
rain and then just drown or would you find a church with a poor doorway to get 
dry. The path is narrow the climb is steep and harrow the preacher fast asleep. 
Eye cry a homeless to the end of time. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wishing you could love me too

You mean so much to me, more then you'll ever know. 
More then ill ever be able to describe.
But I'll try.
Voice of a angel, touch ever so soft you would think its a feather.
Eyes so beautiful seeing them on a sunset day, medusa stare ever so hypnotizing locking eyes can't look away.
Baby in the tummy, heart just started beating giving me a rush that I really needed.
Love so old I feel defeated.
Even though I do everything for you, I'm looking out for me just keeping a close over view upon you.
How can I fix your life if mine isn't alright, but i don't know where id ever be with out you by my side.
And I thought I'd never know but as of now I'm pushing through. 
Now that your gone, I miss you every night.
But I gotta be strong.
Cause if not you'll be gone and ill be with a baby missing its mom.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Between the Seen and the Shadows


Have you seen the breath going up and down? 
 Felt the beat pumping the blood and gives you momentum? 
Sometimes I think, Life's spooky tale hides in the shadows of notion. 

In the school I learned: Shadows enlarge against the slanting light;
And contracts in the virticle.

...Am I scared of light? 
That multiplies shadows?
Or am a shadow myself --
Expelled out of the star-lit day
Hiding from expansion and contraction,
Heaving up and down?

Am I a ghost in the black unseen heath,
Causing a motion beyond visibility? 
Am I real? 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Scared and alone
Without you here
Lost and cold
No longer apart of me
Just don't know any more, of you
Or even myself
Fear and hopeless
The more I think, the more I'm 
no longer sure
Just wanting you to hold me close,
To show me you care and will always be there

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Temple Of Cinnamon Memories

The echoes~ 
from a haunting refrain 
     buried deep, 
within the many corridors 
    of her heart 
weave their tangled, worn threads 
    playing on her memories 
like the delicate, frayed strings 
   of a lonely violin.
Lingering whispers intricately 
   seek the depths to the labyrinth 
of her soul, creating a tapestry  
   of wild cinnamon roots and leaves.
Her wounds of torn and shattered illusions 
   roar their voices in her mind 
like a jungle of ethereal savagery 
   that clipped her silken dreams 
leaving her flying with broken wings.
the tenderest of love came unto her 
   opening her eyes with magic rays 
that touched her spirit 
   with its fiery fingers of love 
opening her heart  
   to the rebirth of lost dreams. 
When his wings unfolded 
   he beckoned her to come 
             And ~ 
      She followed  

Anne P Murray
C@2011 LadeeAnne 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Silver Key

The Silver Key
I see in the path of me, a key- this key I can reach I notice has no current owner in which is just like a useless key without any purpose. It’s not even a key to my broken heart to put the parts where it should be. Even the key could be changed to serve some good, but still in my path I also notice I’m currently like the key- useless to any purpose in which this broken heart of mine wouldn’t be able to piece the parts of my life where it should be. Also, like the key all alone in which waiting for someone to make use of it until then I am me and it’s just this silver key. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My mother

O’ the womb that brought me forth
Her breast milk she did not deny
The love she shower over my life
Her care that sharpens my hope

O’ the first name I call mama
Your prayer you offer for me
Your time you put into my success
Your sacrifices you made to impact me 

O’ the most wonderful woman in my world
Words cannot described your kind
The concrete foundation you build in me
Yes my mother is a star in my sky

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Heart of a POET -- Speaks (Part 3)

Red Tears , Create a Black Lake
Where my Heart now swims

You may Kiss your Bride : I raise HER veil, see the essence of my universe
Wrapping my arms around Her; drawing Her closer, We kiss our tongues dance
The eyes, ears the depths of my soul ; screaming “Rejoice; our host is Whole
 I remember Our Wedding Dance a Rhapsody to Eternity, the rest of the day 
                                            A soporiferous trance
I remember the last  Beautiful  Picture  I ever Felt of  “  L E N O R E  “
 My host  was  standing on the Shuffle-Board Court talking with Mr. Adams
 His only “FATHER” - in law :  Respectfully  my host gazes beyond “TO LENORE”
 Standing by the railing  on the main deck a few feet below : He glances and catches
 THE flash in LENORE’s Green Eyes : the mirrors of HER SOUL a silhouette :
  Against the Sun standing upon his own reflection Smiling at His smile : I Smile
 Sending  LENORE ‘s Heart a whisper :  a LOVE Song;  Singing of our FOREVER
 A Toast to MRS LENORE ELLEN(Adams)JOHNSON The Heartbeat of my SOUL
 Her eyes bypass me to her Daddy,  I nod my appreciation, He nods Saying call me D A D 
 OUR eyes  revert to LENORE who raises her glass which flies from her hand:  I glimps
As a sailing boom sweeps across the main deck Hearing the wails of fear and pain
The boom lifts LENORE up and throws Her over the Railing I glance at DAD “FROZEN
 In that second of time” I tore off my cummerbund tie and my shoes “All HANDS on Deck  
ALL HANDS ON DECK Man Overboard  I start to leap as the arms of a monster puts me in a
I can’t break through “ Let me go YOU stupid  M___er - F___er  Please LET ME GO I cried 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The rarest tale of love

Today my heart is caught in a great dilemma,
 It is unusual,uncommon & very rare,
 when mind stops to think,but heart continues its work,
 today i am in that stage of love.
This tragedy with someone is really very rare,
 That secret of my life today i want to share,
 Unconditional & uncertain towards him i was walking,
 At that moment mind was ceased to think what i was doing.
That extreme care & commitment so intense,
 this was the only feeling in my whole soul which i can sense,
 but in a second got shattered all my dream,
 When i realize that in his world,only a little i mean.
my life entered in that darkness,where light even fears to go,
 The lips which were ever smiling,on those lips now smile fears to grow. 
At that worst moment of life,someone entered my lane,
 I couldn't even noticed that he loved me like an insane.
Now here also once again got repeated the tale,
 situation made me so, that to love him i fail,
 It was impossible for me to fall in love anymore,
 'Love' & 'me' became the two sides of a seashore.
This was the tale uptil here,
 about which you can think that isn't so rare,
 But there is a truth making it EXTRAORDINARY,
 Not a lie,not a story,it is something real about me.
About the two person i told were not the different two,
 Yeah he was the same whom i loved,& who loved me too.
 The situation made him so different at different time,
 That's the RARENESS with the life of mine.
I never got the one,whom i really loved,
 He never got the one,whom he really loved,
 With every breath now,myself melting i find,
 I broked someone's heart & couldn't even saved mine

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Are Very Special

As I sit here and thinking about you, And when I thinking about you, Your rosy cheeks, sweet smile, Hot hazel eye's and so soft lips Is all that comes to my mind. You are very special and rare for me, My heart is always there for you. I feel we are a part of each other. Whenever you touch me my heart Glows and want to fly. When I look at my-self, I clearly feel you within my soul. A picture of an angel, A smell of an unknown flower, A feeling which called loving you. I don't know what I'd do without you Because you have a safest spot in my heart. I just hope I spend my hole life with you. You mean the world to me, I love you with all my heart and soul.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Priceless Love

You speak soft words saying you love me
I tell you with me it is also true
That there will never be another in life
I will ever love as much as I do you

You speak softly saying your heart desires me
And my heart gently proclaims it's also true
Telling you there is no greater desire in me
Than the one which lives in my heart for you

You tell me that you will always need me
I agree saying the feeling is mutually true
That when it comes to really needing someone
The one I desperately need in my life is you

You speak to me of your hearts special treasure
And the precious value it daily brings to you
I tell you my life is made truly prosperous
By your priceless love I never want to lose.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

lie with me

lie with me 
speak with me in twisted tongues 
be my hidden breath 
awaken my souls quieted song 
longing to be sung

lie with me 
in undressed eden's peace 
in lasting moments 
under shaded palms of a summers eve
through silent early hours of wispy flakes 
in the still of winters sleep

lie with me 
wrapped in dawns brilliant ray's 
warming skin under augusts burning fire 
lost in the ache of your wanting gaze 
we unite pressed together 
heated in desire 

lie with me 
for this last escaping breath 
in this final moment 
lie with me 
set my heart to rest

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love Fulfills Itself The Nature of Love

Fire cannot burn it
Heat cannot melt it
Ocean cannot drown it
Distance cannot lose it

Darkness cannot hide it
Secrets cannot keep it
Culture cannot decide it
Tradition cannot stop it

Storms cannot shake it
Wishes cannot ride it
Blessing cannot ignore it
Experience cannot grasp it

Water cannot dilute it
Sun cannot dry it
Money cannot make it
Love can fulfill itself

Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ In the Innocence Sublime ~

We lay fallen as velvet roses divinity-promenading in our wake. Innocence sublime weeping still-puddles... blessing-our-first-kiss. Beauty eminent one heart securing all we share-tongues-entwined hopes defined joined together-soaring-free-as-one... a kin to love, swept-away-by-it-we-were... . I believe the heart of grace adamant, generous-tender and-aware honest and faithful- awaiting-patiently... moves freely, because it knows, the-pureness of love always inspires the-opportunity, and so enchantment-gazed upon innocence and desire knew-itself, when-first God showed Adam Eve... ! Now-here today as time has-kept-us in-its ardent-march-I-say I believe-it was-the same with-him back then... . Because simple-smiles day-dreams and quiet eye-beams alone... for me-too-with-you just wouldn't have been-enough, and-when-I-think-of-you, I thank-God for the blessing of our-time, because my heart enchanted, elated, complete... from-here on-out will I forever- know-and be-grateful to-have-loved the-beautiful-angel, that is you. As-so-enticed by the light in your-eyes, the hopeful-manner the-playfulness of your-lips, I tell-you-intrigued, to entwine-them-together, (with mine)... ! I figured I'd have a day to share, and a lifetime, from-then-on, (to touch)... . (if only just), I-could-chance to-embrace them... ((once)). Author notes The hyphens are all used in conjunction-with one-another for recording-purposes for the- disabled... . My Mac computer I can here and as it interprets the differing punctuations it gives the work in there differing usages a clearer and more realistic soft higher and lower Ebb and Flo when it is heard... ! The work can as well be reformatted into proper engine form for those whom may not be disabled... ! Entered into this contest as such and mainly for these reasoning's... ! Thank you for allowing and for considering my entry. I am entirely honored to be a small part... ! Written for my Jenny... . ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. .

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Africa First female president


The Clouds opened 
On October 29, 1938
The map of Africa I saw
Rising on the shoulders of 
Liberia for a great change
The emergence of a wonder 
To this generation
She is a magic sword that wins
Battles of transformations
Endurance and courage 
Have brought her thus far

First woman in Africa
To soar above all heights
Storms couldn’t stall her vision
Her determination opened every
Prison situation she experienced
Persistence and strong willpower
Broke all barriers on success course
Her faith she firmly kept alive

Iron lady of Africa 
A pride of women worldwide
Her legacy forever will resonant
In the heart and mind of
Every woman young and old
Her star brightens the skies
Her cause a right path to follow
As birds sing in the air
So will her iconic name be sung:
President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf
Africa’s first female president 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heart of an Ocean

My love in you  
like the ocean,  
I want to dive into your soul,  
never resurface.  
I’d drown if I could.  
Breathe in, never let go,  
explore the very depths,  
into the heart of the ocean,  
to see what lays at the bottom,  
Unrequited, until I touch it.  
the further I venture into  
a territory unknown,  
the more I discover,  
the more I love,  
the more I am enthralled and determined  
to see what mysteries await me.  
The more I penetrate into  
the gratifying abyss  
of your heart that seems  
to have limits boundless, 
the more I want,  
the more I seek to reveal.

Details | Prose Poetry | |



 I do love you Charlie Blue My brown eyed merman I kiss your hand Down by the 
sea Turn into me Eye love ewe fairest Ianthe just come there and drown me We 
live in caves Awash with waves Anemones our flowers We pass the hours 
Chasing turtle and fish Finding a lost kiss the hours at the sea make me weak in 
my human form my fins allow me to swim but only to your arms the legs eye use 
to walk allow me to be free but only fins can bring my back to ewe to kiss to 
drown the underwater lover there she is my mermaid playing me I do love you 
like the fish eye am used to better days sometimes sick and needing help yet I 
do love you the merman is so far away When eye drown in the desert cactus 
between the city and the mountain my mermaid kisses save me from the cretins 
she is fighting for my life eye can feel her call my namme Charlie Blue I do love 
you. Woman in the foamy waves 
swimming near to me, my love it comes. It is a heart, a mermaids heart. My 
brown eyed merman I do love you eye love to watch the shrim:Pe crawl across 
the ocean sea she feeds them to her strang pelican and water can be breathed 
by a Knight of drownded love. This was harder to do than it looks adding verses 
sent to me from she who loves the eye then reaching somewhere south to find 
the love to add the words to add our mixed and many feelings making this into 
this fabel. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Strange philosophy

i've always been so afraid of flying,
is it my fear of heights,is it my fear of falling?
it's a strange philosophy,
a troubled heart,a shooting star,life's a remedy
for who we are.
oftentimes my hope is fleeting,
so engrossed in so believing,
in who i am ,the calling,
it's a strange philosophy,
that up is down and down is up,
no doubt my truth is your lie,
but this is music,hear the heart.
it's a strange philosophy,
i live in you,you live in me,
you're trying hard to make it,
work it!
you lose your soul and hope it's worth it?
we trusted in whoever we believed,
Jesus died for my own fault,
i heard that all things pass away,
but love like this never fades away.
one last thing,
it is what it is,
a seriously strange philosophy,
all that and so much more.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I can

I can be the warmth of your sun 
the light of your moon 
the stardust at night 
when sleep comes to you 
the minutes in each hour 
of every single day 
a song from your heart 
over and over I play 

I can be the sweetness of wine 
refreshment for your soul 
instilling my spirit 
making you again whole 
the taste of ambrosia 
honey on your lips 
braille to a blind love 
read with soft fingertips 

I can be the searchlight you need
a beacon for rough seas 
bringing you homeward 
keeping you safe with me 
cold, wet and tired 
hungry for some peace 
a bandage for your heart 
that will no longer bleed

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Undying LOVE

   I saved the last tear I Cried for  “ YOU “ My MOST ONLY BELOVED
   Enclosed in the Shrine, Created for YOU ; in a Heart , Created BY YOU
   I’ve never felt this way : Since YOU Went HOME : LENORE My WIFE
   I’m Living in the Warm Heart of  “ My DEAREST MOST ONLY BELOVED “
                                  “ BARBARA JEAN GORLICK “

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Jah- made me walked these steps of danger
Jah- made me know the difference in right and wrong
Jah- taught me these lessons of braveness
Jah- taught me how to smile against the pain
Jah- gave me these feelings of consciousness
Jah- gave me the power to break through walls
Even though I walked these few steps in my manhood, I still look up to JAH.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Answer Prayer

He came down at my level
He heard my cry
He saw every obstacle
He made a path in my red sea

He sent His spirit 
He assured my comfort
He gave me angels
He lighted my candle

He saw in my heart
He knew His portion
He gave me His word
And He answered my prayer

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I have not eaten today,
But my heart is filled
Not hungry of affection.
I had a fill of you last night
A fill of you for a life time

All around us are walking corpses
Corpses of political disregard
Humans of no nations
Even when they are bona-fide citizens
Your blood and mine flows in them

The government abhors the poor
Feeds them with empty promises
Shoves them through the door
They pay the bills
For social amenities they can’t find
Pay taxes for their castles 
Government built in the air
But we know their ancestors
Filthy dogs eating from the king’s crumbs
No; Lets not unknot the knot
Soon a messiah might heed us

In heaven’s book of life,
I heard the poor names are there
In here’s book of life
It is deleted.
Thus, in your head,
Lays your kingdom and glory 
Get rich or die trying
Or; be their poor and keep sulking.

Well, like them I saw… 
I have not eaten
Flesh gone weak to skeleton
The solitude of love within
Keeps me living; I am breathing
But I am moving,
Towards your direction
I see your beam

I feel new
When I see you
From my heart 
Seeps through the rays of the sun
Its fun; this love on death line
We survived the genocide
We survived the war
We survived love
We survived us
I love you too.

This poem is dedicated to the abused tribes of Rwanda and Nigeria during their respective civil wars resulting in near human annihilation. Though time has passed, we still feel your pains chilling our bones. The survivors.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A great artist is always before her time or behind it

As she clutched the embroidered paper, she wept, observing her tears sprinkle as they percussed the paper. Watching her droplets marinate, she was reminded of a certain pebble she tossed across the waters upon a heavenly cloud as a child, glancing at it in its attempts to clutch the current as it shimmered across the creek. Brushing the wandering dew from her cheeks, she peered sullenly towards the window as the snow danced in its patter against the mirrored pane. Bravely, she stood, aware of her head as it lowered in overcast almost to its own accord. As she grasped the stool beside her, she hurried, wearily, and approached the window and forcefully opened it. As she liberated the air, she sympathised with the tender wind that kissed her cheeks as it lost its direction. Befallen, she succumbed to the tearful weight her eyes whimpered and gracefully fell upon her bed, clutching the silken overlays as she swooned like an osprey with an artistic temperament.  Hiding herself between two pillows in a divine light, she glanced up to the tapestries as they moved gleefully to the melody of the moonlight's breeze and the howls of forsaken souls lost in the lands afore. As she focussed on the symmetrical elegance and the rich refinement of tragedy, only then did she realise that art was the only way to run away without leaving her home.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The other side

The seed is planted
Germination seems so far away
The clouds have sent forth rain
The earth seems not to absorb it
The night has passed
The day seems so far away
Oh! My tears has taken the space of an ocean

The wind has blown
Chaff is still visible
The air surrounds me always
Has never carried my voice
The breeze has come to refresh my soul 
Wall still surrounds me
O ’flies why did you choose me as a friend

I look far beyond the walls of my life
I see a hint of light on the other side
I look within my heart
I discover a small tiny treasure call hope
I stretch out my hands at the other side
Faith is present to lead me through the right path
Oh! There is always the other side of life

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Right stand

Not about your looks
Not about your smiles
Not about your dress code
Not about your educational level

Not about your color
Not about your tribe
Not about your country
Not about your orientation

Not about your riches
Not about your titles
Not about your large salary
But it is about
Your rights stand with God

Details | Prose Poetry | |

the Indian Tsunami

My heart cries for thousands and thousands of people
those who perished in the earthquake-spawned waves;
known as tsunami, the worst natural disaster
that caused tons and tons of deaths across Asian countries.

It’s a great tragedy, a giant blow to humanity,
with its repercussions to all spheres of life –
a wake-up call, an immediate response
that needs to be attended to and done forthwith.

Global mourning takes its course in every nation,
particularly in these countries of Asia where –
Indonesia, Thailand, Sri Lanka are faced with difficulties;
in coping with destructions, tragedies, and other commotions
indeed, an urgent call that needs an international attention.

In four decades this catastrophe has ceased its wrath,
but after that starts another episode, so terrifying
that people who are caught up in that mere situation
can solemnly declare and profess their fears.

Oh, Mother Nature! at times we don’t know
your reactions that cause pandemonium,
tragedy, destruction, sorrow, and pain to all
like this one, a very strong and powerful disaster.

However, across the world, people show their compassion
with their unwavering generosity that floods in all levels
it’s an illustration that we’re humans with caring behaviors
to all those who’re afflicted and severely hit by this phenomenon.

I can’t imagine how the world mobilizes and responds
showing their love and concern to these people in pain
loss of lives, heart brokenness, and other misfortunes;
these generate an answer to be mindful of them in many ways.

I see the unprecedented generosity that rolls in every land,
institutions and other organizations make a collaboration
in what is conceived and put into action: fund raising,
charity, and pledges of thousands of donors.

Horrific media images shown in television channels,
are remarkable pointers for reflection and yet an invitation;
for someone who needs conversion and a return to church call,
that life can be as quick as those giant waves that killed many people.

It’s a theological reflection which embraces human sufferings,
Like a pathway to profound invocation, faith and trust in Him;
Oh God, our source of strength and goal to fulfill this portion
Where we unite ourselves to all those who’re in afflictions.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


A mother chicken lays an egg when it hatches, there is a chicken. That’s how it has always been.
Every chicken comes from an egg and every egg comes from a chicken. But was there a chicken first? Or an egg first?
I’ve given up trying to solve the riddle of which came first, the chicken or the egg.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

a love letter

Love is here, then and now;
often hidden, and hard to define.
I have won, and lost, and how
i long again to win your heart for mine.

if i gave up everything i had,
and stand alone in a place forbidden;
still my life wouldn't be so bad;
if i can hold within a hope unbidden.

For you.

i hope and pray, and pine away;
remembering moments gone, and treasured still.
there is no place my heart can run and play,
except around the thought of you, until

With you

in the past, i only knew that you were by my side.
but looking forward, to face our life together,
i missed moments of "your" life; now, wondering if "then",  you cried.
while my life was easy, the world light and airy as a feather. 

when "we" were one, yet i was "me"
tears wonder now, my love, who were "you"
maybe, it's to late, for selfishness was my reality
but today, love, i want to say, anew:

"i was never a "me", never a "we", never could been, or be
never the man, so self assured and confident, so free
never the me that i once was, never so worthy, never so happy
never what i value, never who i loved, never, ever,

could see;

myself, without looking through both our eyes, or through our peers;
and though back then you didn't cry;  there were seldom any tears.
now, i wonder, when i think of you,  as my vision clears,
thinking back, to that moment in time, the lonely and dismal; cheers

i once looked at you (and told you so),
with love, and gratitude.  i was overwhelmed by you.
laying next to me, in my bed and life, a moment quiet and slow.
i felt, deeper, higher, better, my spirit near heaven flew,

with love for you

i never can, never enough, or earnest and sincerely enow;
thank you enough, love you enough, to express my heart.
there is no human "how".
though i'll try again, and here's a start:

for what it's worth,
from "me"
you mean more, than the whole earth
and myself, in the past, that "he"

who didn't often enough look to the side,
and took for granted Gods gift. 
if i had it to do over again, you'd have been my bride.

i love you,
loved you;
never again will i be,
as happy.

as when "i" was "we"

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Tears falling from my face.
Heart broken in place.
Filled with nothing.
Just a black hole.
Starting to feel and think 
Is no longer real.
Just a 4 letter word.

Easily said, not easily shown.
Just waiting….Waiting
For the day my heart is no longer broken”.
My blood no longer flowing.
My heart no longer beats.
Life has stopped just for one moment”.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Addicted

My life has dumps and learning experience
and pain but 
I had grown to understand that 
                             this is not the end
I feel that I answer a question 
that's been bothing me for so
now my life is smooth 
and almost all
now I have 
to heal this 
feeling that

spreads poison inside
bring back that power
and marvelous feelings 
that I once had for
                    me love stills a beautiful thing
its not hormlous its lovelous with addiction still
at harmful recovery 

body so a mude to the actions you

my thinking is you
and my body craved for
you my lips less tasteful
my heart is fighting every man that come close
 to the heart I shared with you
bring back you give me back what I need and thats 
you that keep my soul, world and life alive

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Drawing Is

	Drawing is...
	...essential to my life,
	my need-to-mark work
	to claim, 
	make visible 
	that which exists hidden 
	within the thinness 
	of a sheet of paper; 
	to see rather than merely look, 
	my eyes, lodestones 
	for edge, 
	to ingest that which meets my eye,
	then loose it through 
	the conduit of my fingers, 
	revealing traces in the paper 
	of a reality such as 
	only I can see.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Take Me

I'll be you're victim take me and not her I'll do anything you 
wan't me to I won't say a word you're secret is kept inside a 
box I call home I don't know what you look like even though 
I seen you're face pently times around here I anit gonna 
show them how you are even though I know how you are 
things had change about you I see what made you act this 
way??? you're eyes are even clearly blood shoot red and 
you're face is meaner then ever something made you change 
and I wish I can turn you back to the man I knew years back 
theres some good still in you don't let get fade away give 
that nice person you have hinted inside I won't tell a soul 
how soft you truly are

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Battle Within

A battle rages on
     within my soul.
My flesh seeks its own desire
Though higher purpose 
Whispers quietly within.
This beast cries out,
In agonizing shout
To have its way
     without delay 
     despite the cost.
Will all be lost?

But higher purpose whispers quietly within,
Waiting to be heard;
Conquering the beast
And Love given to the least.
What master will I serve?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Long Lust Heart

I stopped thinking long ago 
Mi amigo!
From the moment my eyes wandered through you 
They’d ne’er come back 

My head followed suit in tandem
I loosed my head while trying to get my eyes

My heart couldn’t bear it, thus, it followed 
The trails of its predecessors in the wilderness of love 
But my heart won’t come back 

Then tyranny 
And anarchy, all within me they dwell 
For the administrators are gone 
Then the anatomy converse with the outside 

To seek where the heart lies 
They know it is with you 
And they are coming for it 

But then, 
Hopelessness crept in
Would they ever find it?
I’m lust in love!  

Details | Prose Poetry | |



Driven by the darkness above all that is dark;
driven by human vanity,
and by resounding envy,
I once again return
to the glory of the poetry eternal.
I branch my verses into the sky;
I return to the earth with my verses
I am blessing my verses in tears.

Haunted by the scream of my own solitude,
I am calling out to the mute night
to hear its poet’s confession;
to hear the crystal tear
banging against the dry crust of Life.

I am calling out to the mute night:
“Be my mother, oh night, so mute!”
Sing loudly and proudly,
like you did that day
when I first called you mother;
Sing and bestow your kisses on me,
moist and silent,
warm and dreamy.
Take me into your tender and yearning embrace,
just like you hug the southern wind.
Now I sense your restlessness,
oh mute night,
oh mute mother.
In the maelstrom of my dreams you are looking
for a place to rest.
Do not worry,
oh mute night,
oh mute mother!
Your son shall sing instead of You!
I, the poet, the vagabond, the minstrel of Liberty,
I am calling You my mother,
because I could never gather the courage
to address my own mother like that.

Inside me, there might be something of Yours,
oh mute night,
oh mute mother!
There is a sad and endless loneliness,
there is a timid and trembling longing.
Inside me, there is something of You,
oh mute night,
oh mute mother.

Walter William Safar

Details | Prose Poetry | |

One God

Different colors
But the same blood

Different attitudes
But the same image

Different children 
But the same womb

Different talents
But the same source

Different thoughts
But the same mind

Different songs
But the same voice

Different stars
But the same sky

Different continents
But the same world

Different people
But the same creator

Different beliefs
But only one God

Details | Prose Poetry | |

An Honest Explanation

It is not by choice that I obtain 
elation from 
your memory, nor is it by will that I 
crave the 
you of our past. If truth be my 
means of 
expression, then at best, the excuse 
for my 
affection is equated with complexities 
conscious and convolutions of a soul, 
Or is lost within the depth of the 
meaning of life.

To confess such devotion, over the 
became an act of attempting to 
yet to offer reason for why a heart 
is to elucidate ineffable emotion.
Though the question deftly wields 
The the meaning of a 

Yet, I render this humble 

"The reason my heart longs for 
is the same my mind yearns for 
In it, I discovered something deeper 
breaths. Within diction, I found 
And within your existence...I found 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mr Wrong

Mr. Wrong

You’re not one of a kind
You smoke;
You get drunk,
You like wars

But you told me
You smoke because you felt nervous when you’re with me
You get drunk ‘coz you think I don’t love you
You like wars ‘coz you’ll fight for me.

My eyes told me too
I hate your lips,
I hate your eyes,
I hate how it looks at me.

But you told me more
You wish to kiss my lips
You love my sparkling eyes
That makes you driving you crazy.

I almost hate everything about you
You’re not attractive, not at all
But what makes it wrong?
You make my heart beats strong.

But you almost love everything about me
I attract you like no one ever did
That’s all for you what makes it right
You’re my Mr. Wrong, but I’m you’re Mr. Right.

Now I hate myself even more
But my heart told me so
I love you more and more
I love my Mr. Wrong

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ballet In The Sky

The whole air is dancing-
     Ravenous thunder rumbles
        Lighting curls her jagged bolts
          flashing like gold through amythyst, sapphire skies

I'll not allow your image to spoil my view
   With you-rain would cry it's droplets 
          as it mumbled whispers to my haunted heart
               Oft' times-rolling clouds rumbled their voices in my soul


Now, I dance in scarlet flames that spark across the heavens
   gliding thru turquoise skies with copious clouds... 
       that delicately clothe my body             
           pirouetting gracefully ...
               to the peaceful harmonic rhythm of rolling thunder

My flesh no longer aches for your barren touch
   I shall not desire your hand opon my beautiful rain drenched skin
       whetted now with golden silken tears

My memory quickens...
      I no longer remember your face or hunger for your sterile love
         I'll not dance to your chaotic rhythm

Nature baited me with her sweet breath
     Embraced me in her loving arms-
         singing her gentle rain of tears

    baited me with your hook of selfish love

My heart now dances with another
     One who bathes my soul in fertile soil
         He feeds me with his hungry, selfless love...

   fed me worms with your stingy heart   

Details | Prose Poetry | |



   On Monday March 14th 2011, at 1:05 PM, I believe I was looking into the face and eyes of Death, as we drove to Her, school .

   I think I heard the voice and sounds of Death, on Monday March 14th 2011 at 1:15 PM as She tried to direct me past the entrance to Her class. 

   I felt the hands of Death, touch me as She turned away, leaving me standing there, heart in hand, bleeding profusely, no response, as she turned Her, back and walked away, not looking back . 

   3:40 PM and as I sat in the Henderson Mall, heart broken, feeling the pangs of regret, the Grim Reaper, cut into my chest, as I watched Lady Death, walk towards me with a look that said " die ", " go to hell " but the words that came out of Lady Death's, mouth were " such a serious look ! " and Her, response to my gift of apology ( flowers and a poem ) and my offer to give Her, a ride home where met with a curt response " I have something else to do " and She, was gone like the lights had been turned out, and then the Grim Reaper, plunged his scythe deep into my heart, twisting his blade with such aggression I could hardly breath as my lungs tightened up, my throat closed, my heart would not beat and my soul cried out in vain . 

   For eleven days I sat in the silences, looking into the casket, at this old fool, who, by his own hands, was killed, killed by his stupidity and thoughtless words. The evening of the eleventh day of my wake, a sweet, voice, from my memory, sang out to my dead ears, but the tones where sugarless and the lyrics where that of a dirge ringing out a death blow, as Lady Death, responded to " will I get to see you sometime ?" with a " maybe " and then " I have to go, I have things to do " and then the coffin lid came crashing down on my state of reverie, the dream shattered like a mirror struck by a meteor, shards, splinters, fragments fused together in twisted, distorted images of what once was ?, is ?, my dream, a dream that was not, is not Hers, and like Alice in Wonder Land, slipping through the looking glass, reality was not as it seemed, for one's reality, on the other side, may not be the reality of another. The visions, the desires, the dreams, one's perception, all, are but splinters of the holographic universe we inhabit, but have no control of. FATE ?, KARMA ?, THE GRAND DESIGN ?, BLIND CHOICES ? 

   Now I spend every hour of every day hanging on to the edges of my funeral, the wake, my spirit attends faithfully and from these, my mind will not let me escape . 

   I wonder if I will be able to step out from behind the looking glass ?, awake from my beautiful dream ?, face reality ?, reality reflected in those exotic, dark brown mirrors, the windows to your soul .

   My Lotus Blossom, my Oriental Dream, my China Doll, my Exquisite Vision of Loveliness, my Exotic Beauty, - she has left me with my own death mask to reflect upon as I look into the mirrors ( images of what I once experienced with Her, ) and see only ghostly figures ( She and me and all that we shared, all we experienced ) haunting all the moments that lie among the ashes of all the beautiful experiences we shared, experience I believe She, has placed upon a funeral pyre, set them on fire, no longer having a desire to even remember we once lived them, them that gave my life some purpose, gave me meaning, put a sparkle in these tired old eyes and a spring to the shuffle of this old mans step. For   Her, ????????????? 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beau lacrima -beautiful tears

She cried and she cried
and i tried and i tried
but she just cried and she cried 
and i pained and i cried
she told me its alright to die
but i kept holding on 
couldn't let her go
she just kept crying tears
some from anger some from sad
My heart dropped right then and there
she clutched my shirt and cried more
I held her there and smiled small
"mi amor,mi corozan,cry no more for you will always have me in your heart" 
I whispered in her ear as i kissed away her tears
she looked up at me and she made me swear that no matter what
i'd stay in her heart 
i told her i would and to never forget me 
as i told her this she cried some last tears
I stroked her cheek and kissed her tear
one last time i told her,your still beautiful when you cry
mi beau lacrima

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Whispering Winds

Listen to the whispering  wind...I hear your voice, I feel your arms wrapped around my heart 
and soul and for that fleeting second there you are...

Listen to the whispering winds...It can't be just a dream it has to  be you. 
The whispering winds come again and you are gone...where are you? I look and listen and all 
there is whispering winds taking you by the wings of love and leave me with only the 
whispering winds and my heart breaks as I see you briefly flowing freely with the whispering 
 Just as they brought you back to me they took you away as quickly... whispering 
winds...whispering winds, once more bring him back. I beg you whispering winds...

Rose M Bauerle

Details | Prose Poetry | |

'No Quatrains, But Refrains' - Part 4

(a poetry collection)
for The Beloved and in honor of Mevlana Jallaladin Rumi … you´ll find yourself through the agony of giving birth to your friend, brother and lover, the same blood throbbing to the same pulses through the same veins from the same heart making love to heart… … the unsolvable riddle of essence born and reborn in essence… * * * … we waited for centuries to share our toys, and now I always hold you carefully before me while we are bareback on our horse carrying us back to the chamber of our Eternal Mother, modest yet resplendent in her robe of the Ageless One… * * * … I honor you: You, prince of desert horses, the pristine promise of treasured rainbows in your arching neck, the wind in your flowing mane, the cadences of your feet, dust rises around you like a veil… the yawning of god in awakening lies beyond… * * * … the stain across the horizon is the birthing-blood of our brotherhood from a time beyond all horizons, but not beyond our river flowing from heart to heart, where sunsets and sunrises take their evening and morning baths…

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Oh Lord, God of Israel,
Thou art also my God.
Thou hast created the heavens and the earth,
And all things therein.
There is nothing in Heaven or above or below,
That can compare with Thee.
Thou hast been my companion, when I had no companion.
Thou hast been my protector, when I was beset by my enemies.
Thou hast given me sustenance, when I was in need.
Thou hast healed all my ills and sufferings,
Forgiven me my transgressions,
And called me, Friend.
Thou hast paid the price that bought me out of slavery,
And certain death, and called me Thy Child.
Truly, Thou art the need that all hearts cry out for.
I love Thee, but most important, Thou hast loved me,
Beyond all measure, when no one loved me.
Keep me, My Lord, forever unto Thyself,
And make me pleasing in Thine eyes.

                                  Luke 7:41-43

I know I owe Him lots, how about you.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When you're just not thinking

Remorse is building up inside of me,
Everyone has to know fairy tales don’t always have happy endings,
Never thought you could try so hard and still fall short,
I’m in need of something to fill this hole in my chest,
It grows bigger,
Moving deeper,
Making me realize that some things can’t ever be achieved or obtained,
I’m gonna bottle up my heart and let it float out in the sea,
Never to be found,
Never to be seen,
No more pain can be caused when it’s somewhere at the bottom of the sea,
I need to face the fact that I’m going to lose everything if I keep on the path of my sanity,
I want to believe that things can only go up for me,
But that’s life,
Your gonna suffer,
Sitting in the corner rocking back and forth,
Head so low you can see caskets from the recently diseased,
It’ll be pouring showers from all the crying that’s going to be happening,
I know life might seem hard sometimes,
And trust me it is,
I know that shotgun looks shiner by the minute,
And trust me it does,
But just bottle up your heart and send it away,
Like I did,
Because no matter what you’re going through,
What might be going through your head right now,
Just isn’t worth it..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

small poem

when clouds rain
it makes the earth new again
make the earth worthy of the footprints of children

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Warm Hearts

Warm hearts thumping in rhythmic pattern
all together in a chorus so divine,
that it speaks to the soul and sings to the heart,
and we join hands and dance in the winter paradise
of such beauty in the changing of the world.

As we all dance and sing,
we show each to each a beautiful thing
that makes us all sing.
Warm hearts we are and warm hearts we do have;
all we do is love and love again,
in the times of different seasons
we dance and sing and love,
for our warm hearts they love one another,
and together they shall beat together,
one by one-
and with the taking of a springtime storm
we shall indeed enjoy such beauty
our warm hearts produce.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Big Heart

I have a big heart.
 With a big heart, the impossible becomes possible,
 And solutions emerge from hidden places, 
and cooperation comes from all directions.
 A big heart magnetizes help.. 
A big heart is the consciousness of wanting everyone to benefit, 
not just my small circle of loved ones and friends.
 Today let me expand my heart by sacrificing the limited 
consciousness of “mine .”

Adikaran 06/10/12.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Alongside Me

Not a message in a bottle...

As my heart looks out to sea...

...Each wave that crashes...The message I receive...

...Not my bonnie lies over the ocean...

...This gift, this love,

...Upon all sands...

...Stands alongside with me...

...Deep within ocean waves...

...To white surface spills...

...Like champagne corks in celebration thrills...

...Not my bonnie lies over the ocean...

This gift, this love,

...Upon all sands...

...Stands alongside with me...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE APOCALYPSE- mourning for Egypt

Your Government was never meant to last
Your Kingdom, soon to be forgotten
Didn't you know?
How would you have been a fool?

The last days symbolism has eaten you up like Tasmania Red Devil, Plucking what he never planted...

Sooner or later, you'll be signing your death warrant before the Competent Court of Jurisdiction.

Too bad, too bad
Her leaves has finally wither---

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Big metal machine print boxes. Sell gene altered-mega hit wonders. A bone from the plunder. ORGY-DRINK-PARTY- and wonders. Target that fool good. Mechanic under the hood. BUT - I want to be an author. BEND-FOLD-SPINDLE-conform. Write this - our seller mold. COSMIC big brother PEOPLE. They only think our way. THE END 1/22/2007 from [site crashed] POEWHIT JESUS SAVES

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Love Found by WLM on March 29, 2011

I need not scream
For the return of my dream
I feel so much better
For from her I received a letter
Her feelings were not of being mad
But of making me feel glad
She still wants me
And that is the way it should be
There was never a great cost
Nor even a feeling of being lost
When I heard from my love
All was still sent from heaven above
She finally did show
And my face had such a great glow
For me she does still need
So for now I will not concede
She still loves me so
In my heart I will always know
To me she will still marry
Now my head is not in a flurry
And a family we will still start
In mine heart I will sing like a lark
As God meant us to see
Together we will always be
In the simple breeze
I will hold her in my arms to squeeze
Now that I have my dear
I will lose all my fear
I have my best friend back
Oh God thank you for that
For with her I have no doubt
Thank you God I will never be without
She has made me so happy I still cry
For in my heart I do not want to die
All the feelings of dread
Have been put out of my head
To her I have so much to give
And for all of that we will always live
We must always treat each so well
My heart can only swell
I feel so young again
And that is where she will begin

Details | Prose Poetry | |


“To heed spoken words of the harshly learned is to survive, and to survive is to continue on living.”

Details | Prose Poetry | |


You said you got my back
But when i turn around i see no one
You promised to make me special
But am feeling so cheap,damn am on special
You thought you love me perhaps 
But now am drinking a litre per-herbs 
Shit felt like you stabbing my heart and now it disturbs
The blood flow now my heart is leaking
So i thought i should just write a poem
So ama transport the food myself cause iam my own tube phloem
Neglected my friends and family so it was only just us two
Even got your name on my skin in a form of a tattoo
Die for you? oh yes i would have done that too
Am gone now
Wont even turn back
I'm scared of wrong turns
You watched me as the sun-burns
My forehead,heavy stuff on my mind shit feels like i have four heads
I guess i slept like a log and i just woke up in the fire place
You expected me to fold myself in half like a brief-case
I was going to brief you about the case 
But now i finally stood up
Hold myself together mybe am bio
Five fingers in the air including the palm,bye yooo

Details | Prose Poetry | |


He hated his brother
Because he practiced another
Men of same wombs
On each other, inflict wounds
The free thinker; their observer
And he saw; eye sores
Men beheaded… burned
Women disemboweled
Drug traffickers and the mafia
Show more angels heart
Men obsessed with religion
No place free of them
Hold this illusion
Four virgins and a mansion
For just one man in heaven
So die a martyr
And make it even
In the beginning, was this so?
When men die, do they go?
PLEASE: give me no fairy answer
Except self proven ponder

On the other side
I heard Christ died
Men turned it merchandise
One name, many voices
As the voices, so the vices
Repent. Be baptized
Or die ostracized
Yet in sex, their leaders
Abuse youths and feeders
Adultery in the upper chambers
Sucked the poor dry
So the rich benefits and not die
Name not names
Lest you give them more fame
The free thinker; their observer
And he saw…eye sores
Grieve not alone in chest
It’s same in north; south; east; west

I heard God has his own powers
And he for himself mighty might
So why do for him men fight?
I heard also, the goat can bite
When pushed to the wall
Be that so,
Then there is:
The goat-
The applied force-
And the wall.
Who is the Goat? Man
Who is the force applied?
Circumstances against man
And who is the wall?
Religions against man

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Dark path to release
     fear’s control
     and seek peace.

Journey long;
Enduring wrong;
No retaliation sought
In this battle to be fought
     within myself.

Flesh cries out,
Longing to shout,
“My heart breaks,
     it aches.
This task I cannot bear!
Life’s not fair!”

Dark path without control
To release fear’s hold.
No weapons to embrace;
But Love to seek 
And healing in this place
     where fear resides
     and terror takes its refuge.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I'm Not Gonna Let You Say

Whispers in the dark Thoughts of you. a meeting at the park, A memory, a flash Surrounded by pin-drop silence. The saddest thing in the world, I have lost all meanings of life. My mind overflows with memories Of those few green and fair days. How do I mend my broken heart ? I hate this idea of my heart That you are the one thing, Whom I want the most but can't have. You tore my heart into two, One part has lost all and The other still thinking for you. I hate this feeling of pain, I'm not gonna let you say.....

Details | Prose Poetry | |


smooth mellow always sallow 
never foolish but continue to repeating
this EVOL  stay falling for my
devotion and lies 
forever trying to spell together 
fighting to stay alive.....

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The top

I’m alive
The world can see me now
The storms can testify
The wind can attest my weight
The birds are offering their feathers 

My strength increased 
I have overcome
My mockers sees my victory
My enemies can see my crown

The sky welcomes me greatly
The earth knows I am destine
My position is released 
Every giant recognized my worth
Yes! I am place at the top

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I found the truth
It is white as snow
It is pure like an angel
It is calm like a dove

I touch the truth
It opens my eyes
It sparkles my life
It makes me right

I feel the truth
It gives me joy
It places me on top
It sets me free

Details | Prose Poetry | |


My heart is a traitor,
A betrayer of my soul
And a traitor of my will!
Oh how I wish I could love
Against the will of my heart!

I muse on the times
When my heart was my subject
And could dance the tune of my song
Loving and laughing
To the jokes of my love

I muse on the days
When sun rose in my heart
Lighting up the alleys
And opening up the lids
To let my heart love, and be loved…

Details | Prose Poetry | |



You put smile on my lips
Oh! How can I resist?
It’s like bringing me a magical piece
Where I am the princess an you’re my prince

But it seems I have no place
In your heart where can I stay?
Oh! Maybe I should go away
Away where I can’t feel more pain

Because it’s harder even more
The pain inside my heart slowly breaks my soul
I tried not to think of you
Believe me I did but I failed too

And now it’s been two years
My heart beats still the same
Still shouting your name
Two years of loving you still gives me pain.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

violent skin art

the back-door window has laughed at misery
my hands excited the center
a catastrophic introduction
together they depart
the perimeter remains behind and above
a complete separation
abandon direct
we are one
memories are scars
to be fragmented is natural
organization is forced
the back-door window
now paralytic
so mathematical
so perfectly dispersed

Listen to this as a song!


Details | Prose Poetry | |


They hang around aimlessly like 
Demons roving in the air to publish rumor.

Facts they know not,
Myths they buy into; mysteriously forcing there way into issues that have nothing to do with them.

From door-to-door they visit either to bring in news or take out news: 
News build with diabolical lies with the so intent of bringing down a high earn reputation.

They move with hypocritical faces, looking for where to buy air time.
Yet their intensions are far from their expressions.

For me the stage is set
I know them by their faces-
They are cunning, with sly deceptive tongues.
But I have one weapon to use on them:
Abolished them! They are detractors.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Overgrown Spiel Part 1

I'm pouring my heart out on the page, but no amount of words nor good intentions could undo my selfishness. How could I not see what was right in front of me? How ignorant must I be not to notice such loveliness? I thought I held tasty apples and wanted to share them with everyone (but I was just a squirming root with little nourishment to give). But things like that happen when one forgets the tree that brought you up and made you strong. Things like that happen when you say hateful things instead of singing of joyous songs. The majority of the time what I write about is purely for creativity's sake (I never once expect anyone's heart to break). I like to think I'm wise for my age, but I really just dress things up with metaphors and on-the-spot rhymes. I was at the top of the world, but I forgot earthly victories are temporary. I was cruel and self-centered, couldn't get off my high horse long enough for her to take a drink, no I had to drive her to the ground! I love my family and friends, not because of what they give or give up but just WHO they are. And I don't say it often enough (I'm too busy hiding inside of words)... why do I not stop and listen to the songs of birds? Why must I simply describe it to you for your imagination to run wild? You could have been there and enjoyed it for yourself. You could've felt the summer sun as it softly warmed your skin (instead of I just trying to find rhymes within). Truth is I'm a pretty lucky guy to know the people that I do. And when living in my head, I easily forget this to be true.

P.S. If you made it this far please continue on to Part Two. The only reason I split it up is because it went over the character count unfortunately...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Another Miserable Love Letter

Dear Victory Girl from the bay or [dock]

I knew you'd be beautiful

for the sake of the decline...let hedonism take its toll...
Just so I Can Forget

How do you smile like that?

I'm bleeding gallons thinking of your face.

My most sincere pains,shames,claims,and thought about pet names, lie with you


Unused,and abused

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wise Hearts

Wise hearts travel from days long gone;
Trials endured
No respite in sight,
To hope hold tight.
Seek wisdom,
When winter comes,
Causing flesh its chance to be redeemed
Though dark night seemed

Spring at last arrives,
Transforming hope survives,
Despite its wain
Throughout the rain;
New dawn brings life
For wise hearts enduring.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Selected (part 2)

I feel my muscles
   cord up with tension ,
  can almost hear them creak
in the strain.
Lumbering over
  I lean in close,
he seems
    on the verge of passing out
face white as paste
and he flinches as my breath 
  smacks him in the face.

I reach down 
    and shove a claw
into his right leg,
that gets his blood flowing again
and his scream intoxifies me,
I snap my teeth
             into his shoulder
and fling him against the wall.
He hit the floor
  and I leap upon him,
sinking in my claws,
      locking his corpse beneath me.
Lashing at him 
 with my paws
I dig into his chest
    tearing away
       the flesh
   and snapping 
the ribs like twigs…….
     I pause…
to watch the heart
       throb and convulse.

Blood dripping 
from my now matted fur
         I begin
by biting off his right arm
then grabbing hold 
           of the wrist
I tear off the bicep
with my jaws
mashing it with my molars,
   and as it slides 
down my throat,
Always watching 
            his expression,
       I shiver.
With heart rate speeding
  I rip away
the chunky part
      of the right thigh,
pin it to the floor
  then devour it
      resting my torso
upon his.

I eat
  into the left leg
hunkering down,
     guarding my prey,
there is so much blood
I can feel the hair
   on my snout
     weighed down
       like when you walk
in a heavy rain.

I stop long after
   the heart 
      became still,
push my bloated body
off the remains
and lope away,
  almost drunkenly.
And if
   there was some one there,
they’d see
      the grin of satisfaction
           upon my face,
and me 
licking the juicy chunks 
from my snout
    as I depart.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Twisted Karma

Fate has led my heart to find
A love that was never destined to last
I wonder if this is the punishment I deserve
For my cruel and heartless past
Karma has twisted my dreams so fast
And threw my love in the trash

A life-altering war rages on
That split our apartment in two 
Some nights I lay against the wall
That separates me from you.
Tormented by this endless pursuit
That rips my heart through and through

An intrinsic insanity leads me on
I imagine you on the other side
Strumming your fingers across the wall
While my child grows inside
Looking up through tear soaked eyes
To where our memories lie
A sense of longing derives
Inside your wicked lies

I’m wallowing in broken dreams
And taunted by the burdens I choose
I once believed this was my ‘happy ever after’
Now I’m waiting for fairy tales to come true
Hoping that I’m done paying dues
And maybe someday you will choose
To stop treating me like you do
We’ll get back to being me and you
Settle down and say ‘I do”

But there you go
Out the door into his arms
You chose his dim-witted presence
Over my witty charm
To0 blind to see the harm
In trading that broken home for ours?

Spare his feelings to obliterate mine
You say you feel obligated to be with him
When you’re not lying in my arms
A broken faith in you snaps from within
This could possibly be the end?
Our bond is a broken glass we can’t mend
No longer my friend

I love you
Who am I to you?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Are You Knocking- Do You Hear The Wind Sing Your Name

I seem to have lived my life in thrice written scrolls
    flowing throughout the eternal winds 
in bits and pieces of torn paper

I’ve searched my heart for you my love
    I’ve sent your name to the stars -
sending it throughout the Universe…
    floating across the essence of time

I seek my heart’s desire…
    Bidding him to send the mysteries of his soul
I search and search - oh, there must be more
    Is that you knocking at my door?

Why is love so hidden?
    We think it has arrived, only to find…
it was not for ourheart - our soul

In my dreams - you’ve come a thousand times
    Your spirit sings
I’m aroused by the gentleness of your touch
    I feel the passion of your caress
My heart keeps searching 
    My soul yearns for the sweet taste of your kiss

Where are you my love...
    There must be more
Is that you knocking at my door?

You sleep in the recesses of my mind - my heart
    Come fill the emptiness within - 
draw me into your warm embrace 

I’ll wait a lifetime ...
    for there must be more 
    Is that you knocking at my door?


Details | Prose Poetry | |


A butterfly sat on the roof of my life
I felt an instant hope to love again
It descended from my roof
Relocated at the center of my heart

The butterfly settled right inside my heart
It sealed all the holes in my heart
I know this intervention will last forever
My life has become brand new

Oh! Lovely is its nature
Trademark of love it possesses
I am convinced a butterfly 
Touched my life
Now I am on it wings
To truly fall in love again

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love Lights the Way

Love lights the way in the darkness
A shelter in the storm; 
	to heal the broken heart.
Hold on; 
Hold tight to Hope,
Because Love will light the way.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Soul decaying, heart breaking, knees shaking,
And still nothing I can do to make your presence fade,
You’re nowhere in sight yet you still make yourself known,
Now I know the feeling of getting your heart thrown, 
Into a dark lifeless pit of tragedy and despair,
Knowing your arms wrapped around the waist of another,
Tares my soul in two,
I’m drowning in my own tears,
And grasping nothing but blood,
I hate seeing my heart cut up and dropped in front of me,
I sit on the floor with my head down,
Rib cage open and arms drenched in red remorse,
And you,
Standing above me with a blank stare and what was my heart,
I’m never waking,
And you’re gone and taking,
What was my heart grasped in your hand and a plane ticket in the other,
Smiling at him starry eyed,
And I’m still waiting to get that heart back,
Hoping it’s from you,
But now I’m hoping it can be from another,
I can’t wait to learn how to finally love you.


Details | Prose Poetry | |


Standing in Cairo market
streets bustling
horns honking
ball throwing
heat simmering
the melting pot.
in between
ancient and modern
sellers market
wares and bargain
prices over jewels and silks
fruits and vegetables.
Something about Cairo
City Triumphant.

Sipping espresso at a near
by cafe in the 
center of the bazaar.
Camels traded and sold
tips given by the owners.
Fine linens and silks
bangles and jangles of silver
copper, and gold jewelry.
Ceramics and glass jars
of all shapes and sizes.
Beautiful intricate artisanship,
music floats from the
music shops.

21st century effectual Pharaohs walk the
streets admiring the wares.
Where I have Paris on the Nile it
still runs cool to the touch.
Ancient Gates remain.
Cities of the Dead still hold their
legends with no refrain.
I see a silk scarf I have to 
have a bangle or two and
some espresso for the road.
The jewel of the orient
holds her beauty well.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Give Me Everything

You give me pen
There is no ink

You give me shoes
There is no leg

You give me voice
There is no mouth

You give me boat
There is no water

You give me house
There is no door

You give me face
There is no smile

You give me seed 
There is no soil

You give me wings
I’m not a bird

You give me Jesus
You give me everything

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My flower

The music is playing
The sound is getting louder
Even though I cannot sing
But the singers gave me the micro phone

The dancer are dancing
The display of style is amazing
Even though I did not practice 
But the dancers welcome me

The celebration is getting hotter 
Everybody reaching out to me
Even though I didn’t merit it
Yet the flower was given to me

Details | Prose Poetry | |

As the day goes by

As the day goes by i will love.
As the day goes by i will stay.
As the day goes by i will not leave.
As the day goes by i will not change.
As the day i will dream of you.
As the day goes by i will love you forever no matter what

love jamie

Details | Prose Poetry | |

This Love, Conflicting Pain

This has been an absolute journey and I have traveled it with and without you. There are days I have opened my eyes only to be blinded by sun light. As I walk through a darkened coveted desire I'm trying to hold on to you. Listening for the moments you gave to me, all the excitement and how quickly you take that feeling away. My innocence has left no imprint in the path that I walk, so please don't try to rescue me. My knees are bruised, my heart has turned grey, this is where my journey begins without you. What have I let this world become of me? The purity I once new. Hair brushed back in a braid down my back as I walk away my heart still yearns for you. Your love still knows how to make my heart suffer. And your plastered on my inner shell that holds me together, with tears and laughter, I'm blinded by your love.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Apart From Me

Somber silly little Setter, English; painting trapped himself in the side yard whimpering, howling away wildly. 

Sunscreen-on, moseying on over, in His tenderness He offers a helping hand. Hot Summers cool vapors the blessings found  here, there to and fro leaning midst the still lulling; gentle calling of the Rains. 

Yes the Grace of God, in His joy humming, arriving just in time, and so is Patience the greater venture I suppose the eminent virtue. 

His Love always; Honest, Open... Willing already beholden... . Far beyond the wreck I make for myself and others... chains stretched bounded securing me yes, my freedom in kind stripped away from me given in the effort this provisional very prominence preceding me when in denial of these facts.     

Details | Prose Poetry | |

perlarcher forest

you'd awakened my soul again
as my dying  mind drifted beyond
the tall  pines of perlarcher forest
I'd mingled aimously about

the falling leaves as my heart roared
of a distant thunder that henceforth
became a solemn song of solidarity
oh how wise my soul stood seperate

from my coarse being catering
to the rough edges of the Bavarian Alps
drawing the crisp daffodils 
silently surrounding the bottom

of the snowcapped plains
only fragments of me were left
as my body became a tomb
that in cased all thy youthfulness

that once glistened with the coming
of winters briskness how eloquent
the mere barbarism how bloody crude
nature existing within

the sultriness of a sparrow's eye

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Christmas 2005 in Iraq with MiTT 2-2-2

One or two of us
Were home on leave;
For the rest of us,
Christmas came by mail.

Our callsign: Gunslingers.
Our Military Transition Team
Was embedded with 
The "Triple Deuce" Iraqi Infantry,

For a year our home
Was LSA Diamondback
Mosul, Nineveh province,
In northern Iraq

A Team member's wife
Gave us all Santa hats.
I have an old photo
Of us standing on top
Of an old Iraqi bunker,
Bearing pistols, rifles,
And those Santa hats.

My wife sent a small
Plastic Christmas tree,
Which was decorated 
In the Gunslingers' office.

My mom sent a warm quilt.
When you're acclimatized
To wearing battle armor
In the high 90s and 100s,
80-something feels cold!

I remember the nights--
Dark, but full of stars,
With Orion's belt
On the horizon.

Soldiers made bonfires
In the oddest places:
By a concrete shelter,
Or in classified burn pits.

Once exiting my office,
I saw a fire in the sky.
Soldiers were on top of a bunker
Drinking near-beer, singing.

Another night, I stood 
Just outside of the light
Looking at some troops,
And the chiaroscuro image.

I went back to my "choo",
And penciled the scene.
To complete the masterpiece,
I inserted myself
Roasting marshmallos.

I went back to visit them,
Showed them the drawing,
Then completed the picture
By searing a marshmallow.

Christmas was what we made of it.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


“Ablaze are thoughts instilled from farthest reaches, as if slipped into the reddish flames of fire within this burnt orange sunset. A sunset awash in its own quantum chaos, as if a Mendoza thrown color-of-the-sun fireball had struck broadside this clouded gun metal gray horizon.”

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rough Reality

Tears form in my eyes revealing my life the past and present,
questioning myself where lies my future not knowing what’s meant,
scolding myself trapped from the ways of my health,
praying for deliverance yes and a little wealth,
do I really want to point the blame,
or is it I'm held restrained,
mother father look what you’ve done to me,
a punishment for the torn love between you and he,
in my heart I know no ones at fault,
building a stronger foundation in my heart a new path I will walk,
my mind will be the only thing that makes my heart sing,
years  I've stayed strong  for physically enduring the pain of sustained,
rearranged from what my dreams were first made of,
eyes finally opened to that in which I embrace with a hug,
realisms I thought might have never to be me,
subjected to this life of a harsh reality,
reality I'm afraid of you,
maybe its the things I know I have to go through,
mind, heart, body and soul constricted from what lies deep within me,
a loner always to be left alone it shouldn’t be,
nonentity true life of reality has become my enemy,
a hasten awakening belly aching from real truth,
purity shot at me like bullets opened to death vest not bullet proof,
life for me has been rambunctious,
aching back breaking wishing through it all I would have been unconscious,
memories raiding my mind letting me know I'm no better than this,
as controversy of pain and love swim in my physical and mental no bliss,
through it all I've become a phenomenon strong and tall,
later to endure as a memory as I made it through it all.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hazel Eyes

Hazel Eyes
September 15, 2011

Such beautiful eyes
So full of mysterious disguise
They have the sheen 
Of a light light green
And yellow as the autumn sky
As you gaze you wonder why
As I wait to meet
Surely my heart will greet
Of the feelings we share
Surely, Do we DARE
As we run through life amongst and with it
Through our devoted commitment
Follow the long forgotten past
In our hearts we know it will last
Our love is so fine
In our eyes you see it as we dine
To feel the warmth of her skin
The feelings I know she will let me in
From this day forward I know she is mine
Our love will last till the ends of all time
The feelings in my heart are a must
Truly, truly they are JUST!

Dedicated to a lady I know
Jacki Wahner McDowell
With Beautiful Hazel

Details | Prose Poetry | |

White Dot

                                                  Frog playing violin
                                             Perforated Ceiling Washer
                                           White Dot Wassily Kandinsky

                                            ©Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
                                                 16 December 2014

Notes:White Dot was painted in 1923 while Kandinsky was a professor at the Bauhaus. He combined various shades of white which are thought to imply possibilities in life and bold curving shapes of black which portray the antithesis, death. Interspersed are varying shades of red, blue and yellow. 

The circle was the perfect shape to Kandinsky and he felt it was "the synthesis of the greatest oppositions". He believed it led to the 4th dimension and was seen throughout many of his works of art during this period. The black circle with the white dot draws the viewer's eye to the upper right of the canvas with an intensity that is broken by the "squiggled" black line that bisects the canvas on the diagonal. The triangles as well as other shapes appear throughout the piece broken by diagonal black lines. Not only do layered planes of color give this two-dimensional painting depth but tonal variations of color on a given shape lends a three dimensional feel as well. 

Kandinsky's connection to music is felt as the riot of colors and various shapes can be compared to the arrangement of musical notes. The combination of angles and curved lines as well as bold color and shaded forms imbue the painting with energy and one could expect to hear a symphony resonating off the canvas.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lovely Lady

A beautiful lady with eyes on fire,
 That sparkle and laugh, that can smile and cry,
 I love your eyes so clear and true.
 Beautiful lady I adore you.

 A twinkling look that bubbles bright,
 With a heart to care, and a heart to love,
 With hands to hold, and hands to help,
 Beautiful lady there to give.

 Beautiful lady, a smile so bright,
 So warm and gentle, so soft. A delight.
 A voice so clear,
 That calms and soothes, a voice that wipes all fears.

 Beautiful lady,
 I'll give to you, my thoughts, my prayers, my hopes,
 I offer you my heart, my strength.
 My love is yours for ever.

 Beautiful lady,
 I love you as you are.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Face of paint,
An awkward stance,
Passion and beauty,
     ...audience entranced.

Drama unseen,
Except by the heart,
Imagined props,
     ...a true work of art.

Accurate 'telling',
Of some known truth,
Not one word spoken,
     ...passion in youth.

Antics in comedy,
Mingled with trauma,
As a heart opens up,
     ...unfolding drama.

Seriousness of life,
Presenting a touch,
To youthful hearts, is such.

A perfect balance,
To capture the soul,
Of everyone present,
     ...the ultimate goal.

True communication,
Of heart and mind,
A story told in silence,
     ...the beauty of mime.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Finding My Pure Heart

All the violence on TV was probably not good for me
All the decapitated corpses on video games not the brightest idea for me
Life’s real dramas just frustrate me
All the fabricated television dramas annoy me
We all love a happy ending yet we consume the misery and pain of others
Haunted by life changing events
At times I just simply need to vent
Why be educated and humble when being ignorant and shallow brings you fame
Why save your virginity for marriage, when society’s sluts take all the good guys that a girl covets
Why be a nice guy, when all the respectable women settle for assholes yet are surprised when they are mistreated and cheated on
Why live a life down the correct path, when the wrong path is glorified and admired by society
Beneath the darkness and rubble of life exist the flickering white light of my once pure heart

Find more of my writings and poems at

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Animal Queen Contest

The horn sounds
All the animal
Jump into action
Ready for the first
Queen contest ever in the forest

The moon is bright
Much excitement everywhere
Mountain, hill, rivers, tress, ocean
Are special guest

Every animal awaits
This day to display talents and beauty
While the organizers
Deer, squirrel, zebra, donkey
Set the stage 

The master of ceremony
Mr. Fly welcomes our judges
Elephant, tiger, lion and leopard 
Mosquito the journalist 
Sets his camera and recorder

The forest is getter hotter
Mr. fly introduce our beautiful contestant 
Monkey, Bamboo, fox, rat, Raccoon
As they smile with their tail

Each four legs
Modeling on stage
Excited about their beauty
The most pretty of all
Eloquent in speech
With charming smiles
Is no one else but
Bamboo the queen of animals 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Her Lips

Her lips were full and beautiful yet
out of them came only shyness. What
a strange thing a kiss is... yet, she had
been kissed many times and romance
had played a large part of her life
because of those sumptuous lips.

Yet, her real accomplishment came 
when she received two Masters degrees
and a Doctorate and was now able to 
impress others with her personality and
knowledge, not just physical appearance.
Now she had real respect for herself.
Just being attractive was never enough.

Julie Heckman

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Chill of Your Touch

I feel a chill in your kiss...
like the cold, February wind that rushes through my veins 
Oh, how I long for the soft tenderness of your caress
which has now become strangely vacant
Your warm embrace seems to have lost its fire
and you no longer stroke my face while I sleep

The warmth is gone from your touch
I swallow the pain down inside
not wanting to notice our bridge may be burning
Why can't you just say it-instead of pulling away?
Do the risks seem too high to take a chance? 

The painful words in my soul bring tears to my eyes
We used to find love in quiet, hidden places
You without pity -  I without shame
Who has taken my place...
Entered my space?
How could I have known you'd tire of me so?

Will you no longer stand by my side?
we could make things right 
your silence is so deafening 

Raindrops pour their waters
washing away my hopes, singing a melancholy song
of lost hope -  of disappearing dreams
I lift my face to the darkened sky
feeling the rain slide down my cheeks
Staring into emptiness
as my heart cries out in silent pain 
blinding me from the light 

I feel so lost without you
But then I realize...
You never really found me

Now my heart says...
Where do I go from here?
Oh God...
Tell me -  where do I go from here


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Damage Will Always Be There

The Damage Will Always Be There

I cried,I bleed,And now my heart longer beats the same way it did before I meet you.My heart feel broken,i feel like a rag doll played with over and over again only to be thrown away.I miss your love but now your gone and my hearts ache the most it has ever.There are time's I wonder if  I have been lying to myself,I must be because my heart should fee lighter it should feel like a free winged bird but it not.The damage the cuts the sores they shall be with my from happy time to sad time because you put them there.You who I looked up to you never promised I know but it aches from every thought of you.How come how come I must be alone in this world? It sound selfish but I only want you back to be here beside me and tell me you love me and I'm doing a great job with everything.Why does it hurt to think of you?why does it pain me to want to be lose to anyone?why does everyone leave me behind when I need them the most?why am I so closed up with a stone wall full of hate surrounding my heart?I know it shouldn't be there but do you? In time the cut will heal and the sores shall vanish.But what about the feelings and the damage inflicted upon them will never leave.Yes it sounds so cliche yes you've heard it all before.But really and this is know this is said this is everything I know.The damage is there no matter how much it seems to have healed.

For my grandmother who i lost now 5 years ago Granny i miss you i wish you would have fought for us a little longer then you did.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

It comes to this

It comes to this,
Me, admitting this; You, befitting this
You'll wear it well, it suits you
so take it, my everlasting kiss

It comes to this,
I can't look away,
your eyes will pierce right through me and see that I am real,
and here for you, my inner bliss

It comes to this,
I hear your voice, my heart so warm
like a raging fire, and i love to burn
as you burn away my emptiness

It comes to this,
I'm blushing brightly, too much to hide
I can't wait to see you, I don't know what I'll do
I'm wild, I'm on fire, alive for you

It comes to this,
that you make me smile
you make my heart beat so fast
you make me want you
and it comes to this,
I don't want anything more, I don't want anything less
It's you I want, I want you..

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I was not looking to fall in love with you, but my heart spoke quietly to me and the love fell 
gently into my soul.
There was nothing I could do, my heart and soul and fallen even though I knew, you were 
not ready. You were mending your own heart. I'm not the one who tore your heart apart. I 
am the one who wants a chance to open your heart and soul and show you that what I feel 
pure and innocent and imbedded in my soul.
I am the one that looks into your blue eyes and sees the gentle soul and the love that you 
could give me, if you could look past yesterday and give me just a chance, to fill your heart 
with love as you have mine.
You try to convince me your not worthy, but I see differently looking into the mirror of love, 
if only you would look into that mirror too, you would see me there waiting for your heart to 
become mine.
Rose M Bauerle

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Karma Twisted

Who am I to you?

I love you
No longer my fried
Our bond is a broken glass we can’t mend
This could possibly be the end
A broken faith in you snaps from within
When you’re not lying in my arms
You say you feel obligated to be there with him
Spare his feelings to obliterate mine

In trading that broken home for ours
Too blind to see the harm
You overlooked my witty charm
Favoring his dim-witted presence
Out the door into his arms
There you go

We can settle down and say ‘I do’
We’ll get back to being me and you
You’ll stop treating me like you do
And someday you will choose
Making me pay my dues
Now I’m waiting for fairy tales to come true
Dreams of ‘Happy Ever After’
I’m taunted by the burdens I choose
And wallowing in broken dreams

Inside your wicked lies
A sense of longing derives
To where our memories lie
Looking up through tear soaked eyes
While my child grows inside
Strumming your fingers across the wall
I imagine you on the other side
And intrinsic insanity leads me on

It rips my heart through and through
Tormented by this endless pursuit
Separating me and you
At night I lay against the wall
Our apartment split in two
By a life-altering war raging on

My love was thrown in the trash
Karma has twisted my dreams so fast
For my cruel and heartless past
I wonder if this is the punishment I deserve
A love that was never destined to last
Fate led my heart here

I love you
Who am I to you?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


She was planted July 4th 1776
Her leaves are green
Her branches stretch all around the world
Her fruits come forth in all seasons
Her roots are firm on the ground
She gives shade to passer by
Great & Small meet under her shade
Oh! God what a great tree on this planet

Insects attacked her leaves
But it withered not
The wind blew strongly
Yet, her branches remained intact
A pit was dug roundabout
Her roots were undermined
Oh! Oh! Oh!
The potter brought forth the clay

She looks at the sun
Her strength is renewed 
She smiles in every heart
Her hands full of result
She embraces all nations in her house 
She is made of all colors
Yet one united voice 
She is a symbol of peace
She is no other then
United States of America
A nation with vision, love everlasting

Details | Prose Poetry | |


When the heart lies, 

Tears emerged and stood in the eyes.

Emotions built in the heart

Falling in love seems dangerous

Smiles disappeared and odd cry dwells.

The blood runs dry in the veins, 

And truth a hundred miles away from the heart.


Love taste sour as hatred emerged, 

Bitterness of the heart grows more wings, very dangerous and visible.

Tossing and tossing things around in the heart.

Body cells shattered away in horror

When the lies

 A blemish is left within the heart

Howling to be healed with a prince kiss.


Unknown scars of yesterday

Remained visible on the sword

Kept in the scabbard.

Scab drawn within, intensively, 

And memories of good days hung high upon mountain

Exchange of wind blows set in.

When the heart lies, the heart becomes shrank and softer.

As trust escape through the door and anger hasten in.


Separated world and twisted fate

Twisted fate such as twist

Of each married man as one heart becomes two.

Loneliness entered as fondness hasten away

Darkness of the night becomes visible to the eyes

Back to back on the bed, 

Dinning before the other if the appetites were there

When the heart lies, the iron ring would be thrust aside and trampled upon.


World apart, 

Two together becomes apart.

Marriage is not a bed of roses neither relationship a sweet songs.

Mother warned you to be faithful

Remembering the oats on the altar

 White gown wore with veil now turns black and red.

Lying dismantled the holy matrimony.

Oh! The serpent at it again, 

The old deceiver of the world

Here lie our first parents whom you deceived

Of which use is your power when you make us lie? 


When the heart lies, 

It brings Bruises on the face

Infidelity brought the pains

Thousand warning unheard

Waite for the miserable life in future

When you have too many mouth to feed.

Take care humble heart, take care emotions

Take care father heart, least you perish in misery.


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Writing is an art; I am an artist

Don’t criticize me for loathing mathematics
I don’t like history, I’m not one for dates.
I thank the Lord for my patience,
While I’m gone, my pen awaits.

I write about goals, about dreams and the like
Perhaps today’s will be a story, an insight to the human psyche.
Once my pen meets the paper, it will not stop,
Like a river, it runs its course, twisting through the mountains,
Useless dams will keep it still, but that’s not how nature
Designed it.

So distract me with your lessons, and teach me all you can.
But know that when the day is done, my pen has the last stand.
Perhaps I will incorporate my impatience with history and math
Into my writing today.
No, I think I will write about my story.  The peace, and love that
Your lessons cannot teach me.  I don’t need to know who won what war, 
In order to succeed.  
I only need my pen, compassion, and feelings.  
My life is complete.

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Adulteress's missing thread

missing threads
She looks outside. The pale moonlight has fallen across the tributary, illusory moonshine,
like an intimate emission, now that the urgency is gone, meaningless. 
She looks inside. The sprawled bed sheet of flesh shines in luminous darkness which she
thinks she is. 
Remember the worth and compare with leaving behind the cords, one son and a lethargic
clergy who divides his self between interpreting the God and being her husband. 
She remembers the cats, the weekend cooking classes and small garden of oriental roses.
The pale moon is always hiding behind the clouds when you need it. The clarity is a burnt
out butt of the cigarette learning to jump overboard. She waves away the smoke. She looks,
once more, inside and outside.  
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar

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its  the deal
the trade meal
can be
you see
a part so make start
and sell you might do well
earn more and more 
at the

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

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You Make Me to Shine

You touch my life
You swim in my heart
 Knowing my heartbeat
You kept my secrets
And correct my mistakes

In my heart
You build a mansion
You gather my waste
And recycle them
You showcase me
And send me forth

Deep in my soul
I find you there
Keeping my faith alive
You turn my face to the sun
My life is forever shining

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Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

Traffic lights shinning in my eyes,
And here I am standing in the rain
counting every drop that fell in my palm.
The Cold breeze had frozen my body.
Like yesterday when you left me in vain
on where I can’t stand from all the pain.
That was yesterday I could still remember.
Yesterday, I was stood under the burning rain.
Where my heart was freezing under the sun
When all the blue and woe have passed my way
and those autumn leaves are my shelter.
On the broken tree house of memory	
that my heart is getting weak,
And it’s hard for me to breathe.
That was yesterday, I was dazzled in lights of lies.

And today,
The sun grimaces in the early morn
were the world embrace me from the past.
That beauty blooms here inside my heart
Spring’s blossoms come only a second of time	
For today, loves grown deep in the heart of me.
Voices tell me I should carry on,
 To hold the stars up in the sky
and see the world will smile again.
Today, my heart will dance again.

For tomorrow,
Love will bloom like flowers in spring
A sweet smile will curve in my lips.
Tomorrow, I’ll be strong as a wind
dance on a game of love, 
Swaying on a battle of life.

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its near that time of year
when from heavenly
that bright tree
with gifts not for stiff
for all  santa call on his wall
the toys
for good 

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Her Eyes So Blue

I look into her eyes
Which seem full of surprise?
The sparkle and the shine
That makes me sublime
To me it is love at first sight
Like looking into the brightest light
My heart is a glow
On my face it must show
Of the love that I have had
In my heart I want her so bad
I know it will be
Always just her and me
Together we will live
We will always learn to give
And people will know
For on our faces the love will show
My love will surely stay
Praise God I will never let get away
So she will not scurry
I must catch her in a hurry
Forever she will be mine
For now and the rest of all time
We will be so content
As God has meant

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Wise Journey Long II

Wise journey long
     brings eyes to see beyond
      the toils of each day
      with steadfast heart
      to weather storms approaching fast.

Wise journey long
     brings eyes to see beyond
     past wrongs;
      yield grace;
      lessons learned will not disgrace

Wise journey long
     brings eyes to see beyond
     and focus for the day
     without dismay
     of treasures most precious,
     not purchased by gold;
     gifts to behold;
     and Love most dear,
     dispels fear
     for this journey long.

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When I couldn’t see it 
When I didn’t know it
When I couldn’t believe it 
You discovered my hero

When I couldn’t find the truth
When I couldn’t win the battles of life
When I couldn’t find my way 
You showed me my hero

When my sun couldn’t shine
When my rain couldn’t fall
When the situations of life baffled me
You put my hero at work in me

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Bardstown Road at a Glance

The old, the new barely meet on the street of Bardstown road, yet diversity so unique, from Cherokee to the rarity, stepping forth in time with the antique structures surrounding you, from magnetic tape recordings to punk truly a highland of culture. The Victorian and the shotguns the two guns blazing an electric mix of the streetcars undesired prelude to hate Ashbury a lower height, thinking how Hunter S. Thompson may have mumbled a few gonzo words, on the way to decadent and depraved Kentucky Derby but where was I. The greasy spoons all in a row, out wrestle the dining rooms but the salons collage with saloons, somehow the college student gets passed the culture shock. A young man sits at the bus stop his guitar propped on the glass, maybe he is writing a hit single or maybe just hung over, as a young girl in a miniskirt with a quick flip of long hair and a glance over her shoulder hurries somewhere. My friends just want to look at girls and crack a joke or vice versa.
 On a white board scribbled meet the author of Cornbread Mafia sometime in November. There is just a strange feeling about this road, as the politically correct are begging to slay the political satirist, like a living far side cartoon, making  a statement, about which is more corrupt.They say, it takes one to know one but even more to know what you are not . Will corporate media continue to slowly suffocate journalism, with wet rice paper slowly, layer upon layer until journalism is dead? Then they will come for individual’s rights of free speech like a snail over a razor blade until the sword rusts with mucus. This began about Bardstown Road but ends as a Bard, a Town and a Road.

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Because she still clung to his promises

The girl was legend

All empty eyes & purple painted smiles. Every sweet white inch of her. And everyone knew 
her name

She danced in satin skirts that only moved when she took them off. She was everything 
delicate, everything demure. She was beautiful even when she wasnt

She watched the world with terror filled saucer eyes & the world looked right back with eyes 
that were unmistakably green

It was clear glass, they envied her & she wondered why

She knew they hung up her picture, plastered her to walls&books&frames that made her 
their prisoner. They stared at her when they were alone & forged a kind of intimacy she 
could thrive on

But it was temporary & in the morning she was left to sing her own self to sleep since no one 
cared enough to do it for her

The people that loved her, that glimpsed the real her when she uncovered it, all those people 
left her at the end & she saw what they'd done

They'd led her down the wrong track but they peppered it with glitter & held her just right so 
she was blind to every bit of it

She was the diamond dying in the night, she was the candied rose melting in the morning 
dew. They lured her with promises of love & took her innocence before she even knew it was 

She hated them but started to love them almost obsessively. The love hate became another 
prison & she thought she was free because she always got nine seconds of pleasure before 
the sun rose

Back bars catered to her kind & she walked in just to stand there & let their hands go places 
she'd never gone herself. It felt like the past & she convinced herself it was right

One night she walked in, skirt past the legal limit & eyes bright like they used to be. It was a 
shock-making moment, she hadnt looked so sweet in oh so many years & they were afraid 
to touch her

She'd been their girl forever, passed around & used like an old movie that cant be rewound. 
They knew every mark on her body, every scar where they signed her, a kind of "I was 
here" of the human body. They couldnt recognize her. It was the first time she walked out 
alone. Faintly she hoped to be pressed against a wall & killed but it didnt happen

She kept turning around haunted by phantom-feels & ghost-touches. Her body just wanted to 
suffer. It was instinct & who was she to fight it?

Every step was agony. She walked so carefully as though she was afraid of falling in a river 
of her own dark thoughts

But it was hopeless, darkness followed her wherever she went

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Finally a New Hope and Beginning

Finally a New Hope and Beginning
April 8, 2011 

The Finality of My Life
Is Completely a Relief and Free From All Strife
I traveled many a mile
08 to 11 It took a while
At first she was my best friend
I know in my heart it will last till the end
I feel as I should be in a gurney
For it has been such a long journey
Weeding them out
Because of finding  out all about
Some were shy 
I know not why
Most of them always wanted money
Why should I pay to be their honey
But this one just wants Bill
For with him her heart will completely fill
Full of passion and love 
Sent from heaven above
And soon we will be as one entity
Which will last through infinity
She is extremely so fine
My heart knows she is mine
We are completely entwined like a vine
And we both know it will last till the end of time

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Martin Luther King Jr

They looked for an equalizer for so long
Their freedoms were caged
They were treated as less human
Their abilities suppressed
Then, on January 15, 1929, a man was sent

He boarded the flight for freedom
He passed thru the sky of racism
Saw the gathering of thick clouds
Knew the thunder would blast someday
Yet he walked thru the storms to free his people

He appreciated God for his creation—
For diversity and various colors of creation
He prepared the ladder of equality
And placed it on Freedom Avenue
He knew racism held the gun
To fulfill the dream of equal rights and justice
For all peoples was his so focus

He saw it clearly in the Scripture
All men were made from one source—
Brought into being free and equal 
He sacrificed his life for the truth to prevail
His speeches out weighted racism all over America
The fruit of his labor—reality of his historic dream
Is the 44th president of America toady! 

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Shadow and I

Life is a Stage...Act 1, Scene 1 (the only one...?!?)

Remodel my being this enigmatic, next summer. You broke all the rules risking collapse. 
I cannot read your thoughts - a disrupted connection - a handsome dead poet with genius for 
love. I'm dressed in white petals, dreams in my hair. French manicure - ten shells of Pacific 
squeezing your fingers so cold and so white that hold all the secrets of Oneness in life... 
I know you can see me behind marble layers. Reality can't slap me ever again !
The stage - improvised by romantics at heart, the curtain - a time splash wrinkled in vain. 
It started to rain, the roof will soon cry... Lights and the show starting majestic. 
Your thoughts in my heart exploding with passion...
Applause and encore ! 
..short exit: 
Shadow and I...

For The Rambling Poet's Contest  " Life is a Stage "

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can't see me
am scott free
let to this and dat
come lets chat
i can't waited
for this

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Singing Birds And Mistral

Singing Birds And Mistral

My thoughts roll
Down your beautiful face
Followed by the enchanted look
Followed by the scream
On my thirsty lips…
Open up your soft petals,
My gentle flower,
Don’t fear my trembling heart
It loves you
Here I am! Opening
The doors of the emerald cave
Of my heart
Letting you in,
My dearest,
Letting you live there forever
This very moment
I welcome you, my princess,
In the depths of my soul
Filled with love for you
And leave you to
Singing birds and mistral
May they follow you
As you run joyfully
Across its vast fields

Billions of stars
Are scattered in the sky
Their beauty is breath taking
In my sky
There is only one star
Shining so brightly
That shining star is you,
My love,
I love you

My thoughts roll
Down your beautiful face
Followed by the enchanted look
Followed by the scream
On my thirsty lips…
Open up your soft petals,
My gentle flower,
Don’t fear my trembling heart
It loves you

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The Earth

The Earth
June 26, 2011

Sitting in the breeze
Wind whispering through the trees
Sun shining bright in the sky
Accept it, do not wonder why
The world is a wonderous place
And covers an awesome space
Accept it as it is
As surely it will be, it tis
For all life abounds
It is always with us around
Accept it
Do not reject it
For from his birth
Our God created this earth

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Hear With Wings

The wings of my heart fly and guid me
through the atmosphere of pain and suffering.

They calm me as I glid over the mountains and 
through the fluffy clouds that move along with me.

The clouds guide my wings as if I were a pilot, flying 
through the sky of my Soul.

Oh! How lovely are these wings! They fit just right. I 
would never want to take them off. At times, I do have to 
take them off. On the days when my heart feels at ease, I put
them aside; safe in my Soul.

At the times that I must struggle with my existence, I pull
them out and quickly put them on so that I don't get lost;
lost in the deep end of the ocean.

I need these wings to guide me in the right and hopeful
paths through my life's journey.

I don't have them yet. I have to save money for them
and get my pilot license, too; it is too expensive.

Ha! Ha!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Gaiter Of Love

Gaiter of Love
Have many strings
Make different sounds 
Settled in the heart
And focus on romance

Gaiter of love
Perfect a tune
Sounds over oceans
Sounds over mountain
And sounds in valley

Gaiter of love
Moon is up
Soft a tune
Makes a sweet sleep
And gives remarkable dreams

Gaiter of love
Full of powerful strings
Sounding in the air
Dancing with nature
At the right tunes
That usher love 
Into life time commitment 

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as the night goes by

As the night goes by i will stay.As the night goes by i will not leave.
as the night goes by i will love you. as the night goes by i will die for you.As the night goes by i will change for you.As the night goes by i will fight for you.
As the night goes by i will dream of you.So as the night goes by i will love you untell the end

love jamie

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The Martyr's Journey

A solitary path
     to seek true self;
     myself to find
     without refine.
My heart revealed;
Love not sealed;
Old wounds unhealed,
     echos choices made without regard to impact.

My heart calls out
     in quiet shout,
     wrestling with doubt
     of Love’s conquering task for the greater good.

My flesh cries out
At Love’s request
To seek other’s best
     without rest.

Flesh seeks it own desire’
While Love requires fire
     to consume its selfish attire;
     for choices to be made-
A life lived in self-seeking pursuit?
Or, a higher call
To Love’s grander plan-
Peace, joy and healing for all.
Shall I heed Love’s call?

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believe in the magick

Believe in the magick in the power of each thought. For you are like a lovely 
flower, growing in a pot. You can do it, whatever goals you have ever sought 
and you can grow your roots and widen yourself to a great big plot. And don't 
let yourself be put on the spot. And whatever effort goes out is the same as 
you have brought. Takes time sometimes, don't get distraught. It'll be turned 
toward you every deed or need you've ever bought. Smile,you'll be happier, 
that's what I've learned and I've taught.

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June 15, 2011

She is coming to rescue me
And I will finally be set free
My heart will be aglow
On my face it will soon show
She is my sweet, sweet dear
As the day will soon be here
I know she loves me so
In my heart and soul this I know
We have known from the start it was fate
It will never be from hate
We will have our very first date
After that she will be my mate
The doubters will finally see
Amazement on their faces it will be
I will laugh as it will show
For they will finally eat that Crow
She will finally be mine
For the rest of eternity and till the end of all time

this poem is in a contest with thousands of entries to be included in a book by all poetry contest. wish me luck grand prize is 1000.00$

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~ (~) ~ " ... Jaime Addicted ... " ~ (~) ~

~ (~) I believe now... am being-shown; "The plague of the heart is the-very... buried-yes-the-very- truth/proof of hate's indifference, blind tendentiousness keeping it well pruned; feeding its root." (~) ~ ~ (~) The eyes spilling over opening up the gateway-lips murmuring their passion, the heart the guide knows the higher the mountain, longer is the journey to own peace with a soul full, filled of denial; yes greater is the struggle home. (~) ~ ~ (~) Grace the compass, faith-hope-the-weight of the truth fixating forevermore the pointer... . (~) ~ ~ (~) Love the emotion, time the honest jester ultimate, relevant are they, their fledgling desire leading the weary soul moreover into their own, overt their joy skipping elated... . (~) ~ ~ (~) Jaime, addicted; robbing stealing-from no-one only; ultimately from-her self... running, funning around throwing her very life away... beauty the word could never do her justice, running that same game every day, and-night... . (~) ~ ~ (~) It was the sixth day already of no sleep-for her when I met her, found her. (~) ~ ~ (~) So often a different Bo moneys good-sometimes real good, running that same old trick... . (~) ~ ~ (~) So is the crack I hope for her sake her child's... her husband's heart; probably aching, because I believe he's still honest enough to treat her nice. (~) ~ ~ (~) For just over three-hundred dollars I allowed-her to-take-me-too... and sadly, you know the-next time-you can bet-she won't be-open either, and that her shame-compounded; left-alone within-her it-won't save her... because-she doesn't know... quietly... her-tears have-been buried-their scars-have all but-grown-over... . (~) ~

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Searching, hoping, holding

How can I convey what my heart is feeling
When all I need is someone I can never hold
Yearning for a love in vain
For nothing will come of my ceaseless wonderings
Searching, hoping, holding on to a promise never made
How the heart evades when alone between the sheets.

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~ Cry of the Muse ~

Of-gentle beginning-and tender song ... ! That we would gratify love in its truest affection. Stand stead fast- uphold it yield to no other-duty ... ! To-have our-souls' so-identified-unified coexisting- exclusively-mid-this ... . To-live, would I die to give the measure of my-soul- just-to-have this ... once ... ! So place me within, make me the-essence of-the-art- lay me down carry me off- as I would be a child lost amid the grandeur- of its promise ... ! Allow this ink to consume us be the genuine eminence, what we reach-for through the humble virtue, heart-of this quill ... ! So all may view soar higher, and even higher still. Be captured, taken within deep- far and away beyond- the bitter part of this world, into the true benignity, flourishing and forever evolving, amid themselves ... ! Yes help me build me up, mold me-yes- come find me ... ! Trick me friend by slight of hand bend me- yes break me down shatter me again, and again truly I care-not ... ! Fill this paper in-its preparedness ... innocence ... verity, hope ... with the sweet passion elation of our souls ... ! Yes carry me before this-vision ... ! Restrain me-not ... . Set our-soul-free ... ! Please ... ? That we may gratify love-uphold it. Yes yield-then ... only-beauty ... ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author notes Written to the (Braveheart) theme By: Enya The expression of this poem was written from within the greater depths, of my soul. It was a cry of my muse. The passion beside which I stand and the hope through which I write. The joy we both carry for the other, and peace and faith in each other, in which we abide. Before this writing my muse had taken a vacation. So willing, I am open to suggestion. ~ Thank you for reading this piece of my work ... God bless you ... (The reason that there are Hyphens "so many of them") is because I have a computer that speaks them with a faster and slower and higher and lower pitch of voice, giving a certain kind of ebb-and-flow to the work with a softer more fervent and realistic and consistent tone, when I use the hyphens and other punctuation in the certain places that I do, when in telling it what to do. Allowing it to speak in even a moderate voice if I choose. It sounds very free flowing when I hear it, and I can only hope that you will be able to here it in the same way. Thank you for reading and God bless you ... ~

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Ebony and Ivory

She hides her heart behind misleading eyes, layered with mahogany colored armor & a cloak of insecurities, walking as the proud figure of beauty when all she really wants... is to be accepted. She is, n open book of words unread, full of dread she wished she could express but is too afraid and borders herself away from the world around her. With pearls as her microphone head, lines of poetry as its staff & a background full of instrumented blasphemed romance, attached to an undercoating of Verde. She is, misunderstood and outspoken.. &she reminds me so much of myself. The well anticipated J. Cole concert we'd all been waiting for. She is, the reincarnation of musical masterpieces played through nimble vocal cords, & she's capable of so much more.. than she'll ever truly know..

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How do I put my life in a frame? It would
make my Soul so delightful if I can put it in 
a fram and hang it o the wall for all to see. 
If I put my Soul in a frame, it will fall and crash
to the floor because it is too weak to hang.
You can hang me with nails; hopefully, I'll stay up.

I look at my pictures from my childhood. Some from 
catholic school, my 1st Holy Communion, and even 
from my high school graduatioon; they make me
sick to look at them because of all the pain
from the past.

Maybe, one day I will be able to paint a beautiful 
picture of my Soul and hang it on the frame; 
polished and free from wounds.

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I wish I knew you well ?, I wish I knew what is in your heart ?
I stepped out of my bleak, four cornered room on Sunday.
I stepped out from my sterile four walled prison to day,
walked with the sun on my face, warming the hours,
as I walked with the Ghost of you in my arm,
you, leaning into me like you used to do.
Visions of your beauty, your lovely face
graced the blue skies before me,
taking me to heavenly places
I once knew,
with you.

I saw the essence in you, dancing upon the face of
Mother Nature, Mother Earth with such joy
as your Ghost and I walked hand in hand
along the dikes (both sides) of the River
Pitt with thoughts of you and I and all
we once shared, carrying me through
the pain, the tears I shed like falling
rain drenching the earth beneath my feet.
Soggy, thoughts that we might meet once again
this time, you could feel for me, as I feel for you.

I watched the sun gaze passed the cloud cover,
wash away the ugliness, expose the whiteness,
turn the grey snow, caped mountain tops
into a clean blanket, gleaming white
and I began to wonder ?, if I will
know, no more grey skies.
Will white snow fill my eyes ?,
as I walk with the Beautiful Ghost of you,
in my arm, leaning against me like you used to do .

B. J. "A" 2
March 24th 2011
You know Xiao Ling, there is so much I would have loved to have done with and for you. I guess?, now that you have others to do for you, I will never again, know the pleasures of giving to you all that I was capable of, all that you would allow me. It saddens me Xiao Ling, to think that I will never again get to do even the little things for you .
Gone are the the oppertunities !,?, like the sun, behind the storm clouds ( your anger, your disappointments ) that have been hovering above my head like bombers waiting to drop their load on me, to watch them explode on me .
I am so very SORRY Xiao LIng, for every mistake, for every discouraging, disparaging remark / word that came from out of my mouth, for every act ( kissing, hugging, caressing, touching, etc., etc. )that upset you so .
I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me .
You have a great life !


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Egyptian Pharaohs

Your mysticism captivates my world today

Covered in gold and ruins

We try to decode

What you left behind for us so long

Its been five thousand years

And we still feel so lost without you

Let your sun god Ra

Show us the path you took

The pyramids were the keys to your afterlives

Show us how to live our lives

I live in a world covered in blame

With people constantly finding someone else to blame

No boy king in Tut in our day

No Cleopatra ruling any day

Just a lot of villains called politicians

Oh great Egyptian Pharaohs

Show us how you brought prosperity and peace

To your once unstable land

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Loves Wounding Blade

What, but in this dismal life should appear
My hopes, my dreams, true love
All seem to fade
Into the distance I reach
My eyes begin to tear
My heart pierced through with loves wounding blade!

I sought the shelter of loves sweet embraces
In a woman who's heart was filled with vengeful maces
Evil all around!
My body, heart and soul abused
Pain and hurt consume me!
My heart and mind bemused

My love, like a glass house she shattered!
Sharing herself with so many mates
Male and female indiscriminate
Her sexual desire insatiates

My loins burned for her in heated passion
I hoped at once she'd share
My fantasies brought bare!
In her, delectable delights and fatuations
But only in monogamy -
My passionate energies ignite

With her, my love lives alone
Urequited, unappreciated
She doesn't know my heart
She fails to listen
Her own, with walls all around a'glisten
Her mind imprisoned
From many years of
Giving into lust and depravity!

No matter how strong my love for her
There seems to be no relenting
She's given into such disbelief
As cannot be imagined
Her mind's eye blinded by words, 
She deemed dissenting

If only she knew how to open up
To love and meaningful discussion
Could she see the errors
In her cruel interpretations?
Alas!  Consumed by hurtful vengeance be
"God he will suffer for those words he said to me"

In silence she makes me suffer
For wrongs I'm not guilty of
Her judgements of my actions
So obediently; innocently intended
Convicted by her own guilt, she pretended!

Her cruelty knows no bounds
While she rips, tears, cuts and destroys
The fabric of our "True Love"
Such ignorance!  My soul screams out!
Oh!  The sadness of it!
A travesty of two hearts
That were once united!

How do I get through to her
Misunderstanding heart?
There is so much more to love
Than what just meets the eye!
"Whatever happened to communication?"
I cry!  Its the only way to dissuade
The problems of the heart

Open hearts and open minds,
Forgiveness, faithfulness, and Trust
These are some ingredients
For a deep and lasting love
Why does she persist
In her cruel, vengeful ways?
To cause pain, not deserved
Oh!  It truly hurts and dismays!

With patience, love, and forbearing kindness
I seek to go, where no man ponders -
For fear of weakness and humility of soul.
For my one, my true cherished woman -
God and Angels, made!
For her, I would cast, myself down -
Onto Loves Wounding Blade!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Deliver My Soul

Deliver My Soul

Deliver my soul 
From the pain of each day;
Just come and love me
In a very special way.

Daily I think of you
I really care so much;
Daily I long to feel
Your very special touch.

MY days are getting shorter
The time on earth will past
An my heart will never feel the love
That I desire from you at last.

I know the outside displays
A sight that many can’t stand;
But yet there’s a heart inside
That desire to be loved by a special man.

I write words of my emotions
I write words I just want to share;
And daily I often Pray
That one day you will really care.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

No Wish Wash

Be still you moaning soul
and heart refrain from vexing
the souls domain with anxious
thoughts and wish wash emotions

Soul and heart both so sync
wish not for the past where
regretful actions and longings
dwell wish not for the future
and what it holds to ordain
stay not in the present
for lost both shall be

Be ruled by the mind which 
neither feels nor expresses
Mind over matter no
more wish wash matter
floating in two worlds
no home to gather

Details | Prose Poetry | |


its white
its bright
lights up the nighti 
i dress  right
to blend\LET THE SNOW

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What should I do

What should I do
 Written 11-2-05 Edited 5-5-07
I love someone special... 
But I don't know what to do
 If I kill myself his heart will turn blue
 I forever will love him
 And by no means overlook him
 My love...I will not mislead
 I intend to decease
 Befall virtuous from agony
 And not break down 
Please bear with me
 I realize no one notices 
how I suffer
 And my heart cannot soothe 
I have no justification to continue or even be valued 
Just recall 
The day I perish 
You will endow
 My spirit is unleashed

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A sound of orient

A sound of orient 
He looks like a fragranced oasis in this city; 
a lean, yet muscular man in a dhoti, 
sweaty; playing flute, a plateful of bland food 
in front of him, his humble surrounding, the hut.
A village man, who has once come in chasing dream, 
is now a part of this city, a part of speed, 
all except his flute and customary dhoti. 

The dizzy sound travels up, to the fifth floor terrace, 
to the sad man and sadder woman, to the sadists, 
to the dying and to the dead. It climbs up like veins. 
His is a life, with its own brands of pain and love, 
not demanding, the way sometimes this city extracts. 
The days and nights extract a man. 
He hauls out others or vise versa. 

A sound disappears in sleep, 
becomes a village in the vale, 
where dreams move like sheep.
~© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

There Has Been

There is something in your kiss 
The taste of cigarettes linger 
There is a feeling only you bring 
When your hand is on my chest 
A strum of my silk heartstrings 
You mastered harpist.

There is a way you look at me
Your lazy eyes full of lust 
There is a moment when I can’t breathe 
We’re both lost in space  
You blind navigator.

There will be a time when it’s over 
Your wicked ways will leave me for dead 
There has been tears, laughter and sadness
But the scene is coming to an end
You cruel director. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |



I’m a dark hued mind poet
     Writing mine;
Often inking seemingly empty words 
     Bled from pregnant thoughts.

But even these I want to share.
     Sharing is caring:
            About peace
        About freedom
            About love;
         About unborn babes
            About the bomb

And about lumbering shadows of life
     Silhouetting hungry death.

I’m a dark hued mind poet
     Writing mine;
A cranial reservoir dripping
     Spear tipped words;
Dripping magical words
Defying the cryptic void of silence. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


 A broken dream,a longe,a 
desire,a point to start of a 
point to end,a new yoke of a 
recent folds,a worthful of 
heart resolution,in sincerity it 
worth a celebration,in every 
dimension;it's a new begining 
in which we found sudden 
lasting joy of 
 A new year,a new day,a new 
date,a new gaze,a new born,a 
new run.a new turn,a new 
form... . . .to them a  new 
norm,to we a new tron,in 
many ways a new life.....a day 
so many speak of,the same 
so many nose smell not. Yes, 
it has the same twelve 
month,yet it a means of new 
begining for so many heart 
who have been failure 
A new year, to some heart it 
made fear;by so many 
says,it deserves some 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Day After I Was Born

he day after i was born was a day seen tragic by members of blood. Thicker than water, but never stronger than the bonds of sons and mothers, suns and seasons, logic with reasoning, looking for reason to beseech the death of she. My mother. The day after i was born was exiled to the far corners of my mind. shunned by my inner fears of rejection. seen as the demon child, reconciled its falsehood, but couldn't clear the thoughts of these images due to insecurities. Everyday after the day i was born.,now seems meaningless. without her I've become a monster. something i'm ashamed to see in this mirror that stands in front of me. shattering  glass breaking apart reflections of this shell of a man i call self.self called of my own. Save m, save me from self. I can feel myself giving up like the virgins to their firsts. Giving way to damnation, born of sin, made a sinner, and overpopulating this sinner's nation.The days i knew of my mother were happy ones. Tales of her everlasting glow and charismatic charm, tiptoeing through me and reeling in my heart, bones of the sea serpent, fresh outta the water. Flailing about in the hopes of achieving freedom. Hooked on the memories. The day after I was born I envied those who lived before me, to know her essence, even my elder sister with whom a year exactly separates our bond. We both miss her dearly. & the day after I was born & everyday after ceased to exist, temporarily.

But the day i was born, my mother held me close as if i were her all. She told me,.. she told me, "I love you son."

Her first and only son. and hours later, she rested in peace. & I this shell of a man in the form of an infant, weeped in regret. Never to know her true compassion but for a moments glance. & I became her heir, the bastard child. Living with thoughts of her in mind. May she rest.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Tears like a warm summer rain, help cleanse the heart and soul.

They give you the knowledge that when we wake the next day,
The fresh smell of that summers rain, remind of us of the beauty GOD created and never 
meant for us to mourn the living or loved who have left us. 

Each season passes and we wonder what we’re meant to do; we question our motives of the 
past and the plans for the new. We forget to let the past be gone and start out new like with 
the wonderment of all that is out there to capture because we can’t close the door that says 
yesterday is gone and tomorrow has not arrived and today is where I am and where the new 
beginning is going to start.

Just as the leaves change colors and the snowflakes fall from above
We go on living and wondering what if? Shed the tears and let the beauty of our friends and 
those we love and love us
Bring that last tear we shed for all the yesterday’s.

Flow my tears cleanse my heart and soul let the pain drift
Away just as I have wiped the last tear.

Rose M Bauerle  2008

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Do you understand my love

Do you understand
My heart my love
The intoxication of your kiss
No love potion was ever made
Like this

Do you understand 
My heart my love
Loves arrow’s wounds
What arrow ever shot so true
Like this

Do you understand 
My heart my love
No words no song
Can capture a love
Like this 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

my president poem

structurally sound
when up is down
thats what they tell you
when im around

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When my heart is like an island

Whores that have no hymns hum with their thighs,
And the bees toil for honey smell like the skies,
The hornets need no introduction,

Your taste is better than the gardens growth,
You silly girl,
So make sure you're clean the next time round,
Cause there'll be no second chance if you aren't,
There are rules you know.

A God's heart reversed he sees himself in the mirror,
In the sunlight's grasp the ocean seem to shimmer,
And Judas plucks up the courage to dance.

A lover's letter flows benign, 

In a guttural sway,
I sincerely doubt,
She loved you anyway,
Within the milk,
Flowing like the kisses,
Heaven is here.

I wear the flag on my heart as I burn my way through Europe,
You think you are strong,
When my heart is like an island.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

thee author

it has no rhythm it has no rhyme it sang in me. with no concept of time wildly I'd purpose a certain scarlet
treasure measured beyond the silent jest I'd come to fathom wits above
thee solid mental structure of selfish misguided. beliefs daintily I'd fallen amid empty channels of unspoken gestures of tangible lessons a tranquil. timing I suppose a differ throughout familiar time lost without rhythm or rhyme

Details | Prose Poetry | |


ABBA, redeem my heart
By Love’s sweet embrace;
Gently whispers life in me,
My soul set free.

Open wide your sweet embrace,
My ABBA, enfold me please
In waves of grace;
Safe haven in the storm.

Lost sheep cries out
To ABBA without doubt;
Love’s sweet embrace secure
Upon return
And lesson learned.

ABBA’s love is sweetly given
When open hearts abide
Resting by His side
In hope of reassurance
Unending love held near.

Will I receive
And not deceive
This fragile heart of mine?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Woman With The Long Raven Hair

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Woman With The Long Raven                    
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: August/2014

you ever need


 hope, and love -

of me -

I 'll be there
for you,

your side -

of me

with your 
mind and spirit -

I'll be there

the soul

of my
heart -

I Love You

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Deepest Fear

 So many thoughts. so much stress, tryna peel around corners of suggestion, dodging fear bullets tryna answer your questions.

Feeling so distant from thought, thought I could run, but i'm caught up again, words just aren't good enough to describe the pain i'm in.

I'm losing, losing my war with self, losing sanity, & losing it all, backed up fetaled in a corner,

slowly losing vanity, vision blurred, curved, &skewed. Like condemn your thoughts. Believe words and blame views. Definite deficit difference, acknowledged by many, feared by some, &ignored by few.

young minds grab a pad and let the pen speak scriptures and leak truths, like the bible was known to the face of the unchanging, &pissed on by the blasphemy you hear in the news.

 Thanks swizz, we cruise on to the next one, limiting all within all I've seen young-in slung, hung by nuice louder than ears drum, ears drumming out catastrophe. Comparing natural disasters to the lord's only begotten son.

 Son of a bastard father, son of a bitch, son of none, A motherless child. They treat me like i was a new religion, judged by appearance, Looking into my equivalent of a bible and treating it like it's Saul Williams' diary, Opening a telegram of coded language & screaming Sha Clack Clack at the misleading analogies,

 of me,

 to things like hurricanes, earthquakes, and tsunamis, naw mean, naw, me, not me, wrong clip, take another picture, &reassess the image in your menstrual mirror, get to know me a lil and maybe you can judge me. Because until then, you'd never know my fear of what you think of me..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Soup And Brain Salad

No, Shar, I'd never heard of it, but I will, i looked it up, and it's got a great rating.  
Sounds good!  Thanks!!  My friend John S. is a horror buff of the first ranking.  He 
was even on the peripheral edges of some things.  Was working with Joe Spinell 
when he died (Joe) from a tooth infection complicated with heavy cocaine use.

Freddy, 'Ol boy- for you I'm sure the words would be "I'm just a boy whose 
detentions were good!..... And, when you med Davy Jones, was that at his 
locker?  Do you really like Burdon?  Have his Mickey Most series??  Regards, tom

Details | Prose Poetry | |


What of my-love-yes... ? Lowly-the fruit my-hunger knows; of-no other-longing but... ! Vibrant this one taste as it were as-fresh; she... is for me still... as-it-is has-been always but-yet and alone; left-as but-a simple-offering-given only for-two, her; and-me... lying alone-there-just... and-yet and-still-only, kindling; so willingly; yes generously-kept... ! Wouldn't have it; yes-know-any, no I'd know-it-no other-way. God I know-knows it this-way for-us both-as such just-as it is... and-yes... could-be... ? Yes-my heart rides the fringes-of this promise, one heart longing-so, and-yes, as-it-has so-longed... for-so very-long... ! And as-it has-tasted the-freshness; that-honest joy-nurturing, yet and-only still-but sadly just as-sweetly... alone, within; as it has-always been, thereby so often-times sadly abandoned. Freeing; fulfilling, reality, beyond this-that-timid consideration into what is... could-be shared carried into this-moment-amid-the hope-tender-of-each one of-us; those-for us-now that-lye to-be considered; there, lying still, yet and-far; and beyond... . What is love-yes... want nothing other; or-less; yes... still... ! Thereby-if were I to-settle for another; if-this-I know I-still only-lose-the-one... she.... ! Yes, as-I always have; till-now, it-is my hope... ! Yea I feel I always will I now know... believe... ! What of my-love yes... ? And for-you to-know-if then-it'd be-only for you, dear-heart; you-know; if I were to die today; but from a far to love only-you... has been my greatest honor, will always be, only-alone now my-simple greatest pleasure... !

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Best Friend

Unspoilt in a spoilt world, a heart 
rich and a soul white. Friendship,
kindness, rest at ease within, from
his lips the honesty flows. No one
person could ask for more, for I
am enriched by his presence and
closeness to my heart. He is my
all being, my ever seeing eye to
happiness. He bathes me in such
warmth, holds my heart with blue
eyes that bless my view. He is my
son, I love him so, he is also my
best friend.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unseen Oarsman

Each artist stroke created an illusion of depth, color, and placement by contasting colors, 
lights and darks the picture comes alive...A life that carries on into hearts and minds as long 
as that picture lives...It seems as though one know this person through the eyes of the 
artist...In pictures where one knows just knows that someone else is there...One's 
imagination can run wild with ideas of who this person is and what relationship to others in 
the painting...As in "Summertime" 1894-1895 Mary Cassatt (1845-1926) Oil on Canvas..Who 
is rowing the boat?  He must really love this lovely delicate woman  and precious child to row 
the boat for their enjoyment...He must look at her with eyes of love that says I would do 
anything for you even lay down my life if necessary..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Summer's Here, Fall's Never Coming

I remember the first time you touched me, I pulled away, cause it just made me feel uncomfortable he said. She asked why and all he could say was,,, It's complicated. See he was like a pomegranate. Built with a hard shell on the outside, but lots of sweetness built up inside of him. He was just too afraid to let anyone in. He'd grown up tattered&beaten down like an overthrown baseball, the girls of his life being the pitchers and playing with him like he was a toy. They all had him dancing the night away making him feel like he was something special for the first time. Only to deceive and besmirch his kind heartedness. Until eventually all they'd wanted was his sweet seduction, Making love like the clouds were their bedroom, and the more these women touched him and received their pleasures, he died a little inside. Every other touch became another heartache, Every kiss and caress another nightmare for his daydreams, and every time his grandma leaned over his shoulder just to wrap his body and kiss his cheek to make him feel loved, all he could do was turn the other away.. &then came Summer, and he prayed fall would lay dormant, for he felt a satisfaction in her vocal cords and the symphony lips played as they dance to romance's acoustics. Stealing smiles and fanning cold chills to make it through the heat.. this season was special, so special in fact, that he asked it to stay forever. and for the first time he actually felt.. like he was special..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

here u are Subha

here you are ,Subha,
gasp to know if you knew it, Subha,
tell me it's all right and now it's all over, Subha,

wish you could hear,my heart beat oh Subha,
wish it was yours , but it has to be mine, Subha,
i have but one enduring wish, Subha,
that ill always be me and always be true, Subha,
just to clasp your hand,Subha,
& my love for you will always be true..Subha
away you are from my feeling reach, Subha
and life alone has something to teach, Subha,
lonliness does fill the space u filled, Subha,
blankness a blanket it draws to be draped of joys killed, Subha,

the weary path awaits your steps,
the throbbing heart alone itis kept,
a hand that quivers the eyes that are bloodshot,
thank the wind that have u next to me  brought.
here you are ,Subha,
gasp to know if you knew it, Subha,
tell me it's all right and now it's all over, Subha,

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Life as an Optical llusion

I'm a piece of art
That can be hung up
on the wall
But please don't
move me
For I shall fall
Become abstract
pieces of a
different cause
To be put back
together like a
puzzle with endless
To a startles finish
I am to be one day
put in a museum
With all of life's
other amusing
Being of another
time will ponder
With bounds of
Questions that lead
into stories
Stories that lead
into more
Forever stuck in a
To play the unwanted
game of powers
For sheep's to
Wearing black veils

Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ ((Skipping Rocks)) ~

~ ((~ As I Ponder ~)) ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ When before I was brought to know such a day as this ... yes-once it weighed heavily on me the thought; will it ever-come ... yes and my pain, will it never-end? ~ ~ While in the instance of my depression I was unable to see the love of God well within the waters, kind reflection; but now; now through Him I have come to behold and live to tell of the treasure therein contained and abounding. Within this joyous and ever humbling-divine day for me of revelation, and so now; now-my- joy-has-been-sustained. For when I am to ponder the simple nature of His love in all of its purity, and patient delights; visions of these they skip across my mind from time to time. As my eager-hand ... the open-gesture, it moves to lay ahold of the promise of another. ~ ~ As this intention that I've picked up I carry now and cast-briskly ... into the darkness of the moist liquids, to land. As the-ripples gentle gliding they come to move in freedom across the vivid reflection, of this glassy-sheen, while slowly they are brought to roll along evenly with me-and-onward to-lay in peace-beside the stillness; of the open-shores. As-swiftly my- thoughts of God-and-life they move and-dance, upon the-humble shallows deeper and-ever deeper into the heart, of the waters ... and so my heart here stands-in view of-this-and feeling fonder. ~ ~ For-the tender ... thoughtful-kisses I give each place here in my heart that abide-amid the presence of Gods' perfect love, and-supreme-goodness; given-now- for the many blessings that I see. Amid the glory of-His many-other-wonders; I give my-heart again this-day; more- time ... for the nature of their-open-beauty; to-ponder. ~

Details | Prose Poetry | |


lets bang
lets sing
do all kings of thing
come lets bring
it in none stop
lets rock
dress like a bear
make friends

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beneath the Barley

Come quick, come quiet, come yet my dear. To the place and days where all you fear, 
will be waiting for you on the moss of the old bark.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heart of Black and White

My words are on paper and my sentences made clear. Such as the testaments for which has traveled from my heart to my pen. Though my message seems clear, my intent is still obscured by the mists of days that has come and passed. Just who am I to say that I understand the hearts of my fellow men around me for I can only guess. Wanting to be remembered, I'd do almost anything to see this pulled through. Now I'm writing of lavish fiction and coffee cake stories for which I know is all a lie. What have I become...? I'm not a monster but, I'm not a saint as I'll never be. Who am I...? Through all the candy coatings of all the stories I've written and told, my heart remains obscured, lost in a blinding veil of mist. My mind seeks cover waiting for when my heart rips in two for the truth it seeks can no longer be handled from reading the lies written down for which I'm dead guilty of. What do I do now? I can't abandon my paper, my stories, and my life's work. All I have left is to embrace this as a part of me, the heart of black and white and the realms of ink and paper. Whatever the day, whatever life throws at me, I will remember the journey between the heart and the pen.

Details | Prose Poetry | |



Are we meant to walk a tight straight line,
Wouldn’t that be saying to walk like the blind.
How will the hollow be treated in the end,
The two edge sword is being used for family and friend.
A crooked smile is hard to bend right,
The strong is most needy when using their might.
Unconscious wisdom spoken to bring down to the top,
A cliff is extended in sight of the short stop.
Wrongful delight can’t teach a child confusion,
But a picture made by evil hands gives a right way illusion.
Falling short to the tall brings along a silent bed,
Hot air in a head makes no stop air blown on hot makes stop while ahead.
Carving your pumpkin with heart out of chest,
To take a heart out of evil empty chest is best.
Cut off your left if it hinders your right,
Close your eyes to see dark to realize whose light!

Ashley Hogan AH

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I'm up again, awakened by the brand of her face in my dreams, wondering if she thinks about me as much as i do her, even though I'm far too timid to tell her that. Instead of being bold about it, I leave my enchantments of she in the essence of time, to always be remembered & never diminishing with its sands. Letting every opportune moment to just say, "Hi.. how's your day?". slip from the coil of nimble fingertips. More than happy to gaze upon the paralyzing figure of beauty during humble greetings &even give a smile so she knows im listening. I don't know what to call this.. It was like having my first crush all over again, thinking endlessly about that person, always smiling when her name pops up, all the cute things about it. Remember your first.. how that person gave you butterflies. I get that feeling everytime she's in the same room, so much that each day around her is like seeing her for the first time.. Having that same reaction, &remembering every minor detail. She had this proud aura about her, with a fierce walk, a bubbling personality and an even more bubbling smile. I remember asking myself who'd be more jealous, Mother Nature or the Sun, &the way light danced off the glow around her skin, it'd almost seemed like she had wings.. I'm gonna do it. Next time, i'm gonna talk to her, even if it means rejection it could mean acceptance and thats the only exception I need. I'll face it like a gunslinging Bruno Mars. &if I lose i'll die with a smile. Cuz you shot me through the heart staring in your eyes, so I might die a happy man today. &if I survive I'd love to get to know you..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hilary Rodham Clinton

Angel moved to and fro in Chicago, Illinois
Edgewater Hospital door opened
Dorothy Emma Howell Rodham was received
Travailed for a contributor to American she bore
Suddenly Hilary Diane Rodham Clinton
First page began, October 26, 1947

As a child in Park Ridge, Illinois
Her ability couldn’t be ignored
She displayed perfection in church and school
Received awards amongst her peers
She knew the sky would embrace her someday

She prepared her pages to Wellesley College
Her seed of greatness began to germinate
All eyes knew she was heading for the top
Diligence elected her president, Wellesley College
She was ready for her pages to be published to the world 

She is a woman of notable character
Her virtue who can find
She worked hard with a vision
She is a woman sent to this generation
Committed to her responsibilities for her country
She is a woman the whole world
Is watching with big hands of applause

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Heart is Cryin'

My heart is cryin' out for someone to save me from the situation that i'm facing and 
no one hears me they can't hear cause i'm just not ready to be saved but i know 
that i have to cry out louder if i want to be saved and no one knows when not even 
me but the lord cause i just had enough and i'm ready to move on and not turn back 
why all these years have i stayed to be hurtin' and filled with so much pain instead 
of being happy cause i deserve it. Now that my heart has cried out i know that i can 
be filled with so much joy,peace, & happiness. Now who ever will hear my heart 
hopefully it won't be crying out to be saved from a bad situation it will be because of 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


 if you feel 
and it your appeel
the  get the wheel
get the lights dim
its about a ture film
make a start

Details | Prose Poetry | |

St Nicholas

Every ones heart is open happy and glad that's if they have a heart,
Every ones purse is opened wide whether they have much money or not,
This is the sunny good side of Christmas and he is a jolly old fellow,
St Nicholas can dry up most tears quieten sighs, clear up any storms.

He piles the yule-log high upon the hearth and beckons his brother's,
But there are tears that surge upwards from a source too deep to dry,
Clouds too dense to drive away and deeper sighs too sorrowful to bare,
He finds he cannot banish all pain so he begins to sympathize with it.

He has a gentle hand to lay upon a troubled heart he can weep and feel,
He also feels for the unfortunate and help bear the burden of the weary,
He also listens to the thoughtful retrospect its return awakens the mind,
He hopes on this one day every year people show they care for each other.

After the feast happiness ensues a season of deep reflection and good will,
Many last night enjoyed a dance, dance cards full struggling with admirers,
Some were under the kissing bush or picking trinkets from the Christmas Tree,
Playing games like blind man's buff and reveling in the best time of the year.

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Fallen Rogue......entry into contest, Act 1 Scene 1

     He sits and mourns and weeps within the Willow trees.  A sodden forlorn form, 
alone in his own company.  bemoaning fate as destiny's joke.  While keeping in his 
cups.  An addled mind won't show the truth of how he was taken in by a trollop.  
Immune he thought his senses be to the wiles of a womens ways.  For was he not the 
one who always had his heart intact at the end of the day?  
     But sly as night her temptations were.  With each smile and bat of an eye.  Her 
gowns were designed to tease a glimpse.  Of what lay beneath when she disrobed at 
night.  She coyly watched from behind her fan as he went slowly insane.  With a need 
to kiss her red rose lips an add her to his fame.  He bet all the men at his Club that 
he'd have her in a fortnight.  They gladly took his wager, cheering on that she'd put up 
a fight.
     He took her riding in Hyde Park and to the theaters and brunch.  Presented her with 
diamond pins, ruby eardrops, necklaces and such.  She played the game so cunningly 
with smiles and gentle touches.  Unspoken promises of passionate nights.  She had him 
in her clutches.  Then came the night that she gave in.  Not once did he think of bets 
while in her bed.  No, the mighty Rogue was well and trapped.  His heart new it was love 
before his head.
     He lied to his chums and paid dearly.  For he could not publicize it so.  he loved the 
woman more than money.  His ego he let take a heavy blow.  He lavished his first and 
only fiance with all she could ever want.  Money to buy her wedding trousseau and a 
home on West Hillary Blunt.
     It was a sad day for all mankind when he stood alone at the alter.  She was already 
half way to Paris, France.  His new found faith in love began to falter.  How could he, 
The Rogue Supreme, have fallen when he should have been dallying?  He was tempted 
by fates first taste of trust.  Brought low by loves sweet calling\center>

"Act one Scene one" contest
Placement: 4th place

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Broken Heart

Psalm 147:3  God will heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds. 

Allow God to bring sunshine into your world.

God's love is with us at every second of our life.
He is with us even more when our hearts and spirits are broken.
When you have suffered a loss or a great disappointment in life, 
God is there offering His comfort in the darkest hours.
God never breaks promises and He is always with us,
even in darkness.
God's love has no end.
Trust in God to understand your suffering.
God will always bring healing to your heart, mind, and soul.
God will fix your broken heart and all you have to do is let Him.
Opening your heart to God is easy.
He is waiting to comfort you.
He will offer you protection in time of need.
He will bring peace to your soul.
This is what brings happiness to someone's life.
Happiness is not found in material things,
not even money.
Happiness is found through God.
Allow God to dry your tears of rain and bring sunshine to your world and the ones around 

Offering Words of Encouragement
By=Shannon Lynn Farlouis

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Today's Blessings

Today's Blessings

The Lord has blessed my soul today.
He deserves my thanks and praise.
Even if all He had done was to keep my heart beating,
And to keep me breathing in and out,
It would have been sufficient,
For I would have lived to see another day.
But He did so much more.
He showed me the anger and turmoil of another,                                                            
And showed me how much I have changed.
He allowed me to feel His Spirit working through others,
And gave me better words to say.
He took away the pain of yesterday and yesteryear,
And helped me to see His Spirit within myself
Through someone else's eyes.
That is a feeling I had forgotten even existed.
Now I know that through Him, all things are truly possible.
All I have to do is provide the willingness
To let Him live within me.
If all He does tomorrow is to keep my heart beating,
And to keep me breathing in and out,
That shall be sufficient once again.

Thomas Cusick

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i love to rap
when i sap
am a dance fool
some think am cool
where ever i go
know i have my tools

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some like pop
some like hip hop
 some like soul
 i had to reload
my music is free
to be what i won't it
to be you see

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The Mind Of GOD

 He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out 
and pleaded with him. 
He said to his father in reply, 'Look, all these years I served you and not once did I 
disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my 
But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for 
him you slaughter the fattened calf.' 
He said to him, 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. 
But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has 
come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'" the certainty of days is lost 
in aggravations and in misdirected thinking abilities are missed in dreaming and 
wishing colors were not true the sky is always blue in some peoples world the 
clouds don't move in true reality the clouds fly screaming across the sky to take 
kisses from mye eye to deliver them all to ewe from the kissing place its true oh 
ewe there is many of them there still hanging from my lipps to kiss the lipps of 
ewe. The moral of the story don't get thy dandruff up until the wind blows. WAIT. 
Bulliten: This is just inn hot off the iron. Love lasts forever and yes it forgives so iff 
ewe aer just lately starting to hate me lets nip it now in the bud and snip all the 
hate away and please keep the love thorns are okay when the rose is on vine but 
when picked all the thorns do is cry. Add mee quickly back unto thy eye am 
pleading for mye heart seems to be gone when ewe linger in the ether and do 
not even come just try to find forgiveness in your heart for me today. The concrete 
where eye tried to spend the nite was stiff to muscles used to better beds the dirt 
eye finally found in a corner of the church was fine and warmer out of wind the 
sadness that eye feel is never hate but only love not found and wasted time. The 
anger comes from being left alone.
Eye would not change the way eye am eye would not want it any other way to love 
someone is to miss them when away. My time is spent in vain pursuits of 
happiness continuous searching for food and circuses the hour is almost upon 
the masses no more time to love. Please add me to your list of love as number 
one again mye friend and love the man that eye become is jealous of your love 
and time still searching for your heart and certain ewe aer there in mine and we 
aer both there inside the mind of god. LOVE.


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lets bang
lets sing
do all kings of thing
come lets bring
it in none stop
lets rock
dress like a bear
make friends

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2000 miles away

My heart is far away from me, i wonder if hes dreaming of me. i know im in his thoughts. All 
the "i love yous" and "i miss you babes" tell me he cares. I gave him my6 body and soul, 
then why is my mind playing lies of deception. Insecure was never my basis. He betrayed 
me once and i took him back. Trust and honesty holds deep yet the memories resound 
vividly. Who are we? couples, lovers, future husband and wife? The questions never stop 
coming. Is this how it is when your in love, or am i in love. For so many years , i pondered, 
could i ever love? I say it so easily like its meant to come out but so fast i move on. I dont 
think my heart has ever been broken. There never was a wall to rebuild. I feel no sadness, 
is it my strength and feminism? Or can i just not feel those big emotions.? With him, theres 
that spark though, the happiness when we talk, that eminent smile, it cant fade. The sensual 
joy in his arms. Is it pure lust and satisfaction, are we just nymphos for eachother? Is it 
love? the song replays like a scratched record. He is mine and i am his, we are to last 
forever and always, so it must be love!

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Nature freewrite

Walking through this forest unaccompanied by others, drinking the sweet nectar of nature's blissful pores, enjoying its sounds like a sweet saxophone playing the melodies only hearts could hear. from the beat of wings both bug-like and aviating to the rustling leaves in the upper levels of wooden skyscrapers. swatting away mosquitoes thinking of days when girls had cooties and surrounded me going, "i'm not touching you..", watching bees play tag with lilies and dandelions thinking of Saturday mornings with my younger sisters, playing hide and seek with Jaz and Skye. all the laughter and joy filled tears I could ever ask for, watching Venus flytraps play the roles of father and son, playing a game that resembles something like when dad and I would play basketball til the wee hours of the evening, rewarding my efforts with his acknowledgment and a playful rub on the head, tears falling to the ground. standing as a lion and its cubs uncloak themselves from the cover of bushes, the way the lioness cares for her young reminiscent to the way my mother held me on that fated day, never wanting to let go but knowing i'd grow into a child of prophecy and joined god in her rightful place. leaving me alone as i am now. and walking through the forest unaccompanied by others, thinking of this feeling and whispering to nature... I'm home..

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The Invisible Man 31

There is no force that can take me from this darkened, wretched place,
Maybe once many years ago, someone special, a girl with a heart of gold,
Only she would have dared touch my shoulders when I was scared to go home,
With courage a brave friend who thought it not courage, her heart so kind.

A friend shone in my mind and glowed of hope in my brutal childhood days,
She and said one day we will be together always when my hope was hopeless,
Taller and much stronger then I could ever be she was always there waiting,
Standing next to her she was so small but strong I had to look up to her.

Her sweet words chased fear away her mind more beautiful than beauty's self,
In dark clouds of my wretched days she stood by my side and gave me spirit,
Later when Invisible was down, he knew who's malice and hate created his hell,
One stood out and gave me strength a little angel stayed with me night and day.

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you'd aroused my Bavarian senses the burning pine incense the smell of raw lavender nectar I was taken by the blustery rush of floating pollen daintily i hummed while sheep skin and wool fabric hung preparing for the brisk days of winter I had waited very long for your call why still making me blush how childishly shy I'd become in your presence the glasses of hot
cidar rattled. beneath the cedar deck oh how I've missed your smile the twinkle in your eye the crinkle in your chin as you remembered the wooden train from the window and the schwarzwalder kirchtorte.
filled with layers of cherry jam in
the window at konditirie

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it had to fall
for us all
so we could begin
he died for our sin
he raise his head
for all our blood is red
its for me you too
and boy and girl

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  1) ..Every time... I take a breath.
2) ..I think about... the trees.

3) ..Knowing that....deep down inside.
4) ..Each breath you longer can I clean. 

5) ..Is it True...your love I sought. 
6) ..When on my skin... you carve your heart. 

7) ..When here...upon my limbs birds nest. 
8) ..While knowing that each root...I need.

9) ..If leaves are poem makes.
10) ..And making strip my branch.

11) ..Where then will you..hang your swing.
12) ..Looking up..why do I see..a heaven without trees. 

Is It Poetry 

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Sweet Mother! Sweet Mother!!Sweet Mother!!!

Sweet Mother! Sweet Mother!!Sweet Mother!!!
Suddenly my heart leaped within me
My eyes shedding tears in remembrance of the memories of yester years
Just like yesterday fresh and glaring was decade ago
In the midst of deep thought did my soul slumbered
Immediately my mind paved way for memories of yesterday
Every night my spirit morn you for the fear of what tomorrow holds 
Then I smile, now I realize so I cry for tomorrow
Knowing how painful it feels without a caring and passionate mother
Just like yesterday I remember your tender touch and how you natured my infancy 
even when I knew not my left from my right
Clearly and softly your voice echoed into my hearing singing and talking me to 
You guided me through the turbulence of infancy
You stood by me in the midst of raging storm
When my spinal cord could not carry my body
You went starving for years just to make me survive
Night toppled nights yet you stayed awake to steadily steering at me to ensure 
my safety
In your arms I opened my eyes day and night
Each time I stand to walk and fall
Quickly you rush towards me and pick me up
Whispering calmly to my hearing that you can do it son 
But suddenly the greatest adversity rolled in like a thief at night
Snatching you away from me and left me hanging in the cloud to face tomorrow 
all alone 
Sweet mother! Sweet mother!! Sweet Mother!!! 
I can not believe you gone so soon to the land of no return
In great pain and agony I itch my flesh to the bone screaming at the top of my 
voice and pleading to see your face one more time
During the day I frown and dine in loneliness
But the moon appears calmly at night just like encouraging words telling me that 
tomorrow will be better
Your words give me the strength to carry on in life
Pushing me from day to day
You are my treasure and my only friend
In my heart I keep the memories of you
Rest In peace dearest mother and let your soul find comfort in the heavenly 
places with lots of love.    

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There is no darkenness in the LORD my GOD he is perfect and forever more the 
creation He has made a little less than perfectly but some things he made to 
warm our hearts in spring are nearly formed as close to GOD he loves them all 
the dragonflies is one of those they meet all the requirements for our love. 
Four wings so delicately made to fly. A faces only mothers could have loved. NO 
reason much to live except just to exist existence then is love. They fly and have 
ewe noticed them at night how they like to lite near open water near a waterfall 
ewe find them mostly brown but there aer read ones and some blue ones and 
some good ones no they are only good ones and they spy on lovers in the night 
One heart lonesome thinking of her man one heart yearning to be a man they 
find each other in the dragon fly again. Water drowns a man he wants to swim 
into the underwater dragonfly the lair of all the mermaid wishes she is there oh 
mye Ianthe. You are terribly adorable! mon ange. 
Soon the dragonflies will come back again 
L()()K at this it seems that love has blinded her to mye reality she waits and 
searches for our love amid the gleaming pearls of water searching for the wings 
the spotted owl no the raven quoted no the flying serpent there no it is the yellow 
tail the golden flyer there the portent of mye heart turned into love. 

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Self Inflicted

To continually crave for something never to 
be yours, saddens the heart and closes doors.
Dreams are but dreams and are no match for
reality's harsh touch, to want what cannot be
is too much for the heart to take. No blame 
can be appointed only the circumstances 
accepted, life is never the level road we all 
hope for, it is littered with ifs and buts.
These self inflicted wounds we poets share,
longing, yearning for something no longer
there. And yet the pen wanders aimlessly
across the page, oblivious to feelings, words
and age. 

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right out of titles

battle me.feel it.i kill it.will it to happen.a romantic liason between me and 
know your through if you say it outloud,all your lesbian friends who are so 
proud,dont know the damage i already done, ice.

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The More I Try

the more i try to show you exactly who i am you turn your back on me and i don't know why 
my heart ached for you and it shattered really fine 
i kissed my futures goodnight and drummed up my strength to cry
i am a mourning masochist and a shattered sadist i cut my soul just to see if it's real
your heart never knew the dangers in my eyes i am sick inside my soul over and over again 
i can't think about the futures without realizing the past knowing i was wrong when i chose to 
make love to you each time i felt dejected because i was untrue my heart cried bloody 
murder when i feel in love with you i screamed to the heavens and shouted down to hell i 
needed you to love me but my futures are too bright i thought it was love but i now came to 
see that deep inside of me i truly hate you there wasn't any guilt when i let you go i felt 
more relief that i don't have to try no more.

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The cold dark clouds have given way
The sky again is blue.
My heart it does now beat again
And this because of you.

A warmth that's felt from passions fire
Much hotter than the sun
Has burned away those painful days
Sweet nepenthe's been won. 

But though my sorrow's been displaced
The scars they still remain.
Will ever come that faithful day
When I can love again?

When I can give my heart away
And without fear or dread
Be lead by feeling not by thought
By heart and not by head.

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Please Note

Please email all challenge response to, as well as 
posting,  thanks

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Tongues Like Dragons, have no Speach.

Gray Sky modeled, a Leaf on its Falling,

And thus tenaciously wounded, a slow and Bitter Abandon


Past Churches among Coals

And Faces lined, tunneled by ants, cicadas

The mouths of Sad dead Men.

Gray Sky tears Into Dirt,

Cars and Old Women Flying,

My legs Wobbling, Noodle Like

Churning Air and Dirt into Butter.

Gasping relaxed Depravity,   Eyes of Bulging broken Connections,

Tasting tongues of insulated Iron

Rising higher, Higher, Still

Red—Slim, Long to the   Sky

Fifty Feet, A Hundred,

The Nothing of Where Sky, Was,

Filled in by a Forest of Red Bloomed Licks.

My Mouth Closed Tightly, Holding Leviathan Inside.

I Stumble Back, Truck Bound, but Falter, Finding Telephone Pole,

Penetrating it, Sodomy like, Through the Rear. 

Hands Writhe, Grasping, Reaching, I Clasp my Mouth and Break Free.

The Voices rising From Mouths no longer their Own…

I Cannot Describe…

Newborn Violet? The Desperate Thirst of a thousand harlot Bedrooms?

Vowels Drowned in Starving Mackerel congealed Eyes?

This, All of this, Is beyond me.

Simply infinite Air, Spearing Life and Earth,


Dense and with Cold Constancy.

Today …The Day

Has Died.

The Knife of half-destroyed Churches

Bite Deep,

Each leaf, Hunger, Phosphor’ ant Fire-Fly Eye of Darkness---

----As They Fall.

I However, Let them Take me from Within.

Forsaken interrupted Hands Growing,

Source-less Laments Turning Shadows to Anti-Life.

The World, now, some measureless Dream,

One long Abandoned Funeral Voyage to Nowhere.

Great Pale Cows of Tomorrow

Rain Black Milk

While they Float to the nothing of the now ground-speared  Sky.

Exasperated Winter,

Oh, Dark Color of Sinfully used Blankets .

Filthy Lightening Bolts and Dung Covered Clouds,

The Horizon reeks of an Oil Field.

Spark, Spark, Lighting a Match,

To keep God warm, That mewling 

Majestic Infant of the Sky.



And one Long Holy



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A Bird in a Cage

There is a little bird that sings sad songs in her tiny wicker cage,
Her prison is situated against the side of a cold flint napped wall,
My heart and my thoughts understand how miserable and alone she feels,
She dreams of her past times when she was free in a sweet June valley.

Remembering glittering waters, green buds take her back to happy days,
When blossom filled the boughs of pear trees and sweet hawthorn hedges,
Flying, landing among brand new leaves sipping cool dew in the mornings,
Grass full of sweetest flowers bluebells, swinging and ringing, all gone.

The caged bird remembers careless days and hates her captivity and cage,
When living in the woods was fun, so much to do good friends all around,
But she got caught and put in a cage she was not watching a sad mistake,
It swells her heart almost to bursting she lost her freedom one sunny day. 

A man sits on a wall listening to the birds sad songs he understands why,
He had been a prisoner for many years in a country miles across the sea,
So he creeps up to the cage and opens the door for the poor little bird,
Flying out she hoovers to the man as she tweets there is a tear in her eye.

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The Sweetest Acoustic

I listen to the melodies she hums while washing dishes & all I can do is smile and wrap my arms around her. 
The sound of her voice is the sweetest acoustic, 
etching branded love into my ears as I hear the words that hold me closer to heaven than any scripture ever could... 
"I love you baby," ...
Sending chills into catacombs of a once broken heart now fixed and warmer than the coolest winter flame. 
She makes me feel... I can't even say.. 
It would take a lifetime for details, but here's the synopsis. 
I hold her body every night the way she holds my hand so tight, my body so close, and my heart just right, so she never breaks it, 
& I only wish she'd never leave me, be mine forever, by my side whenever, to grow old and die together, 
forever and... be nothing like my last relations. Be the one that makes me secure for the first time. 
Like she already does, like she already had, Like I hope, she always will.

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She sat near a pool of brownish waters.
Perplexed by her own reflection.
The wind tender on her hair,
Tossing it eastward.
Drying her imbrued face,
From days of sobbing,
Leaving dull lines that stretched
From her pale eyes,down her haggard lion.
She never wore a smile
As brilliant as the sun.
They only burn,her.
Reawaking her tears
From their subtle base
Beneath her eyes.
She considered them,a tragic representation of her
She decked her face with cowardice.
Never regretted,nor did she skedaddle from it,
The lies she once told herself.
They were now,dreams she woke up to,now and
Expressionless,she sat,
On cold dead grass.
They sent chills to her bones.
Her mind hovering through the empty space,
That is her her own schema.
And the world that lies beneath her bruised nose,
Covered in blood and fear,
The stench of terror,
Quite familiar to her.
They were like marks on her back.
They stayed with you for a life time.
Misery was something she owned.
They burnt in her dark brown eyes.
You could see their talons lashing restlessly,
Drawing those who cared for a scare.
The tears that flooded her garment
Jog the memory of her own consciousness,
That she still did feel something.
Something painfully passionate.
Something,realer than her fragile image.
Those tears were reminders
Reminding her,that she,can still think.
Think of events that stole
All the life she knew,
Will ever know.
She stood at the edge of destitute,
As hard as it was,
It brought her solace.
Her hopes raise at the east,
Settling west with the sun.
She seeks no remedy,
But an audience.
An audience at least.


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you know the box score dont report scores of various sensual behaviours
my neighbors do,apparently
darin me to be the light arm of the law.lawn maintenance call.

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pop up videos came on the tv,but i couldnt see them.see,i was relaxed in my lazy 
boy,all stretched out,and all i could see was my big feet.i didnt deem 'em 
necessary just yet,i got a bubba fet to play with.he's my pizza toy and the joy luck 
club moves.into my feet are still big though.look at it go.

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the universe game

the universe game
if i give to you a universe,
you said to me this morning-
what would you fill it with?
a blank universe,
you coaxed me this morning-
tell me what i'd see.
i said, unwillingly at first-
i would not take your universe
not your gift to give...not your stars.
i would not take your universe
if you gave it on 
bended knee.
-but if i had a universe,
a blank universe i'd fill it 
with ecstasy storms
and kissing maids romping
with bright hued braids twirling
and child's first prayer that electrifies grass blades
and butterscotch ice ponds
and fields of wildflowers
and books lining roadways and 
words raining sideways-
trains running backwards and 
time moving slowly
with music for dinner and 
dancing for sadness
lovers and mothers
perhaps i said,
as i rolled close in the sheets 
i'd just fill it with you and i-
and i would love you when the sun
did shine
and when the sun
did not.
and i would love you when you closed your eyes
and i would love you as you wept.
love you as you walked
toes tickling my ground and sand
and i would love you when you sneezed
and as you sang
        and as you aged.
and i would love you 
my tiny universe to keep.

thank you as always for taking the time to read my work.

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Night of Silence

Night of  silence, night of  forgetting,
write me with your soft  
and dark pencil 
lines of lost songs
and lines of love.
Someone sings from blue rocks 
high above, 
mist of a morning  first silent, 
now filled with dreams.
Waves of sadness 
over the bottom of a sea of songs, 
abandoned and yellow,
I feel your heart beating.
A  heart of a sad  morning, 
full of desires, love and  also  loneliness.
You, my voyager from a distance,
you bring me the starry nights 
with your sober and colourful heart.  
It is you, who engraves in me desire
with the power of a volcano
from a far away horizon.
Slowly, slowly,
I do not want to leave you  scared 
with my dreams.
Slowly, slowly,
my love,
find slowly to the future,
find confidence in this night of silence
and of  splendor and of love.

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The Last Walk waterloo Bridge

Waterloo Bridge the last trip for desperate souls has always been a lure,
To jump from to escape from pain, anguish when you just can’t take any more,
What draws the very sad people here, could it be because of the stone seats.
That makes it easier to jump into muddy waters when a lonely heart beats,
At night gas lamps cause mighty shadows lower your head one jump it's done,
Nobody can understand the level of pain or understand how desperation begun,
Standing on a ledge in the moonlight looking down on black water just one leap,
Each has a story that would break any heart but they take it into the deep,
The jumper stands on the stone seat wind dimming lights blowing their hair,
Waiting for the moment willing strength and a new wave of bitterest despair,
Below is the end of all sorrow, poverty, lost love, the many reason for woes,
The River Thames takes anybody the poor, rich no matter what, it still flows.

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to night
under the moonlight
come run have some fun
dance to soul
but gold
the music you choose it
bring a friend to share
our place is near
to hump

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The eyes closed

The eyes closed,
yesterday's dreams comfort my loneliness. 
And I still see you as you were,
silent, reflective.
Your hair,
open chrysanthemums,
budding in the wind and straight to your heart.
I see you in my dreams,
the day remains sad without you, 
without your familiar voice, without your smile.
I have to think of you,
I cannot find sleep without you, 
but the days remain silent 
and only dreams become alive.
But it is not yet time,
to safeguard injured days into my dreams.
I look for you, 
my heart searches for you,
and I can see you with closed eyes.
Why did you have to go?
Yet I can see you,
as you were,
with your silky skin and the colour of almonds.
Your deep and open eyes,
yet I can see you.
You are still vivid in my thoughts, far from bitterness,
Botticelli's angel,  painted into the day. 
My voice cannot reach you,
but my heart is talking to you,
with all its injures and abandoned tongues.
Yet I can see you, as you were
in those days full of summer, full of love,
in those days, which so quickly passed.

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to stay in shape
i don't debate
i put on my shoes
listen to news
listen to the blues
get out in the sun
for a 

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In So Many Words

In so many words
One's love can not be written on but one page,
Nor can it be conveyed in only one verse.
For the heart holds eons of feelings, 
and words that even one's mind can not fathom
To put down on a piece of paper.
There is not enough ink in a writing utensil
To fully express the love that one feels for someone.
Adoration and worship the ground walked upon.
Grandly talked about line by line,
The heart unfurling its flag of emotion
On a pole only seen by one's love.
A song sung of lonely desire,
For that love truly is you.

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my new book

i have a new book titled"confederate haiku now at in the poetry 
section.this is my first haiku book and i hope you grab a copy.i have other titles 
for sale,just put my pen name,to-wit,in the search engine at and 
they will appear.thanks.

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Charlexes Fabels 




This poem is about me the JesusFreak Charlaxandroidoneseven. 

Homeless scrounge a little better than a thief my legacy is poetry as eye leave 
this world behind to go on to JESUS Heaven eye write and leave behind some 
thoughtful insights of this life. Snail mail was nice. She afforded me the bus ride 
that makes the life so much better than the walking endless walking always late 
no one is talking anymore of sending me my latter day relief. All my websites is 
always free my poetry is added in the hopes that gentile readers everywhere can 
see the JESUS freak in mee.   

As eye ride the bus eye see into the futyre it is bleak there is nothing saved no 
money towers castles laundered pines nothing will outlast the fire. 

Money is not god only in this lifetime did the eye even afford to use some eye 
cannot repay my source it all comes to me from GOD. You and yew and ewe and 
even eue too cannot repay the LORD. Bread and corn and silver too no he did not 
ever promise all of that to you but Abraham my father had some GOLD and so 
does the Charlax told a heart is given me in love she knoes just how much eye 
try to endeavor in my eye to give her love. Food Reported just TODAY there is 
some popped corn in a bag and eye am wearing brand new jeans again that 
makes THREE pants for layers but BOZO iz not jealous eye look just okay and 
very nice today I'm eating bread no wine sober is the man in love iff she is 
reading this one see her smile it is enought for love to win the time to return to 
heart to make her remember love. We have the same heart in the same place in 
the same body and when she smiles at me the world turns right side up and 
upside down. Nothing is perfect and nothing is without problems but ewe she is 
perfectly in mine. 
eye am cutting all my fabels in the halve this is part one

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Love Is

Love Is

Love is a feeling which reveals the heart,
It's the selfish heart which refuses this revealing.
To cling to the fear of reaching out
Is loneliness in the truest sense.

Love is a force which breaks asunder
The walls surrounding a thirsting soul,
Reaching within to fill the void
And to dry the tears that one has cried.

Love is a light which shines into the darkest dungeon,
Bringing peace and hope to the prisoners locked within.
Yet the prisoner bound by the rusted chains
Would rather he should perish than to know his freedom.

Love is a song which floats on gentle breezes,
And gladdens the heart of the one who would receive it.
Yet woe shall fall upon the very being
Of the one who would dare to smite the hand
Of Love.

Thomas Cusick

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In the Paper

I’ve hidden my heart away in letters unspent
	Tumbling down, all around, everywhere but here
I’ve left my dreams locked away inside a pen staining a page
		Tumbling down, all around, everywhere but here
I’ve surrounded myself with smiling faces
			Tumbling down, all around, everywhere but here
Laughing eyes and biting tears born from work
				Tumbling down, all around, everywhere but here
Because I cannot bear to see my fate across these pages
					Tumbling down, all around, everywhere but here

I’ve left my soul trapped inside pages
	Screaming, it’s screaming, crying out loud
I’ve scrapped my heart inside a papermate’s blood
		Screaming, it’s screaming, crying out loud
I’ve screamed my mind’s cries all over the walls
			Screaming, it’s screaming, crying out loud
Of this page, this word, these words
				Are screaming, they’re screaming, crying out loud
Because I cannot see anything anymore
				I am screaming, I scream, crying out loud

I’ve laid my body down on these tracks
	It’s exhausted anyway, its tired, weary to the core
I’ve crushed my eyes between these lines
				Tumbling down, all around, everywhere but here
I’ve scraped my lips raw with paper cuts
		I cannot bear to speak, to whisper, release this whimper
All because I cannot bear the thought of you
					I am screaming, I scream, crying out loud
Being with another, kissing another, and I die here on this page
	I am screaming, 
              Tumbling down,                    
                   Crying out loud,  
                          E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E  	but	 here 

Because you lied to me
You lied to me
When you said

I care a lot about you
You lied
Lied when you said

I think you know where that comes from

I died in the realization of that lie

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all the important people

set of portion values
all the sound you need
they impede me when i steal
or kill
try to fill the cup
of that love

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~ Poem the 1st Chap. Inspired Bye ~ Part #11

Stirring, the emotion, sometimes you just have to make waves. Love provides ... its benignity, true hope freedom and peace! Lasting on ... no small time-forever. Surrender friend is endless-it-is! To wake up everyday, it's a joy to do it, taken alongside gentle cool winds clemency abounds of grace of chance! God bless the man- willing to walk with him! Knows Him as his faith! ~ "The ways of a fool, delight themselves trammeled amid closed eyes. Believing what is seen in view of them alone is then the only view ... desire. One that only they themselves can trust, in earnest". "Honest Open Willing hearts abide able, lead them knowing this. Are lead themselves by and through the tender eyes of grace.Mercy enlightened illuminated high upon their gape". "No more, contempt abides amid indifference"! Peace e'er aware of this truth ... evermore abundant ... is the eminent beauty that Reigns" ... ! Her tears-by the way of the run of her cheek do fall, they pave the way for the day for her dreams to be realized in Him, and as she cries, so-she-weeps. Softly casting-her hopes, and only sorrow upon the quiet-whispering of-the-wind. For to be told the willing heart she has always been known by God to be; no sweeter of a love for-Him-to-treasure. As amid the answer of the soothing breezes, they gently caress her a she quietly lies down midst the tears so wanted and shed for the love of the ones she beholds, so dear, and waiting; within the joy of the Heavens. Lives the wisdom of God, her Lord ... Jesus. For each tear she has wept so foretold they were already in His heart this beauty ... envisioned, and being shed they were shed for His life one-freely-given, and with each breath she takes. She knows, with-His-love, one given, and given for all with a hopeful condition, and so to speak ... she speaks aloud to Him now a grateful thank-you. As overwhelmed in all her honest emotion, tenderly for Him, she weeps. ~

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you feel it
its a part of a kit
you are the star
you play the guitar
near or far
the music makes you stump
your rump and bump
its funky

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My One & Only

This is Being Written For A Very Special Girl, A Lady Who Means the Whole Wide World To Me.
And As You Read Between The Lines Of Mines You'll Find that My Heart Belongs to You 
Completely.So Look No Futher For Your Search Is Over This Man Loves You  A Million Times 
More Than Casanova. Romeo Ain't Got Nothing On me.Cause Ive Pledged My Love, My 
Heart,My Mind, MY Body And Soul to You Completely. To See You Smile Makes My Heartbeat 
Go wild and To Hear You SaY You love Me ,Sounds More Beautiful Than any Love Song Ever 
Created In History!Living without You is Driving Me Crazy and I hope The Feelings Are Mutual 
and You love me To Baby!! I would Lay My Life On the Line For You, I would Even Die For You If 
I Had to Now and forever. Because I've Dedicated my Heart To You For Eternity!!

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Love Seeded into Two

Love seeded into two
Turning away from sullen blue.
Time Capsules, souls search, 
for treasures and purpose, purpose.
Sullen bellows of gusty winds, there
treads the daughter of mortal sin,
as she grins and picks her victim the truth surfaces.
Abuse, slander, scandal and divorce of principles,
she settles down to a poor man's life.
Creation solely, only, for you going forward to another life.
We are allowed more than one, more than one.
So the sun comes out and smiles and shines brightly
from without and within. There is no sin.
There's reality of pain and the heart wearing thin.
Sink or swim to the shore or out another open, closed door
wondering how you tripped to the floor.
Scams, revelations, points you made in school, 
staring at statues of the immortal fathers, 
you play piano on the stool.
Crazy aspirations, 
pains pass you… asking why there is  
death and loss
You will tear them from your heart 
as the years go by.
Dreams of money, power, fame and sex, 
writing out those bills and checks.  
Mundane paper-work, 
knowledge from a book, 
turning trash into treasure, 
while making it rhyme.  
Playing the lover, the playmate, the grocer and, the cook may spoil.  
Oh the turmoil when we go blind, 
we die, 
we love, 
we toil, only in the human time. 
And then God reaches in and spins the records to the tune of you, 
where love is love 
and truth is true.

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reason for living
is giving
reason for the rain
is growing thing
reanso foe season
sumer and spring
you can see it so plain

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bigger things

sport was a star in and unto himself,he didnt need anyone to play his game.

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 from away  where i stay
you hear the beat
you pat you feet
its gets under neat
its not  a band
its man

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it the time 
you see the wine
grow you no
you everything
that brings spring
and the love shower
that blooms

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its words for the small
and the tall
go out have a ball
its holiday eva
to a good deed
give gift to little girls
a  young boy
so theyer have holiday

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I had a dream

While sleeping I had a dream, a dream where my Lord came to me.  He took my 
hand and asked me, “Is there anything you would have of Me?”

Taken aback for a moment, I thought. Then without hesitation I answered, “I want 
to know You like I have never known You before.  I want to feel Your heart, instead 
of mine, see with Your eyes, hear the words You long to hear.  Lord, I want You to 
be so much a part of me, that I can’t feel me anymore.  Is that possible Lord?”

He smiled and answered, “As you search My Word, it draws you nearer to me as 
ever before.  So yes, it is possible, but are you wanting it enough to search ever 
so diligently?”

When I awoke, my heart sank as I recalled His question.  Am I wanting it enough 
to search so?  For it sounds like much, too much work.  Then I thought, when it is 
one you love and long to be with, do you not go far and beyond to reach them?  

Yes Lord, it is something I want enough to search so diligent for.  I want to be as 
close to You as I can possibly be while here on earth.  Then the day of Your 
return will be only that much sweeter and more spectacular to me.

The smile He put in my spirit that day, made my heart sing!  And sing it will 

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a lude and lacivious man came walking in
he said he had a gun in his hand
nobody could see it
there was no threat in there
he shot his peace with no care
cleaning out the enitre dining room
i guess you learn to move when a man has a gun nobody can see
i guess

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My Baptism

As I come into Your house, O’ Lord
Prepare my heart to receive
For it is You and You alone I seek to find

Let my heart be pure
My intentions well meant
And my steps guided by You

May my spirit sing a song of joy
For it wells over within
As I go beneath the water

Accept me now O’ Lord
For I am giving my all to You
As I rise up from the deep
Wash away all that is impure

For I come to Your house 
In humility and honor
Seeking You and You alone
It is You I long to know

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The Reason

The Reason
The reason for these tears and heartache
For this pain that you feel is not yours alone
A love that's no more was of beauty and truth
Do you remember when you cast it away?
I always kept you close to my heart
Letting you wander freely in my soul
Even now as you suffer I bleed
When you came to me it was love at first sight
Taking the place of the void that lie in my heart
Holding you close to my chest as a precious heirloom
I never expected for you and I to part
So beautiful, fragile, wonderful and shy
All the things that I loved so much about you
You knew at once you had caught my eye
Watching your soul mending, seeing you grow
Was my purpose being fulfilled
Sharing my thoughts, exploring your dreams
Giving you encouragement saving all your tears
Then you simply went away, you were gone
I saw no reason or rhyme, I simply accepted
And suffered silently alone as I've always done
I learned patience, I bided my time
Taking the best of my soul with you
My heart was crippled again by you just turning away
I was deemed unworthy of your love
A mortal wound was delivered to us that day
Yet return you did and now I know
It was far too little and way too late
For only another could claim my lost trust
And fill the void in my heart
What was cast away in passion and lust 
Would never again be whole in this life
All the sweet dreams were gone
To a million pieces shattered
I would have no daughter, no wife
Denial and illusion had always been safe for me
So I return to my corner alone and suffering
Yet in my heart I am numb, there is no pain
A universal constant that's so real
Each action has an equal yet opposite reaction
Loss will always equal gain
Once you leave that special place you can never return
Reality is a very harsh mistress
We all know this is a true yet painful fact
I do however know this, you will again find love
In my soul I know that the choice was never truly mine
And as you learned I may someday do the same
The one for whom you traded me was never for you
Still we cannot undo what is already done
If you ever truly knew me you would realize
It was never really about her at all 
And as the creator is my witness my soul remains clean
What you see as betrayal, was your own.

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the hours, waves of happiness,
the glowing of unknown stars
and among all flowers my love
like flowers of spring on a winter day.
my heart is flowering 
between yesterday and tomorrow
and yet the distance wants to drown me
with yesterday’s waves,
with the beat of wings
of unknown creatures.
Do you hear these songs
and slender music,
so easy to injure?
Daylight is dying away,
satisfied, like a lamp 
of steel,
but I am full of wishes
full of desires.
waves, engraved in the vast sea
with the colours of vastness and loneliness
attract you with their songs.
Do you hear the singing from the distance,
do you hear it?
The stars with their shining
are warming the winter and
the waters of a silent future.
with this they pass more rapid,
the bitter hours of loneliness
with their sad look of  strange stars.
And there I am,
with my love,
rising like flowers from the snow.
My heart is flowering
between yesterday and tomorrow.
Do you hear the songs from the distance,
sweet as honey but also a little sad?
Do you see the waves, do you hear the beat of wings?

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as you go
go slow
but know
what you need
to sucee
study for a test
you will get the rest
its not mean

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Judgment Day

Judgment Day has come!!!  I stand before the Almighty Father!  How will I be 
judged?  Will I have tears of joy … or fall to my knees crying tears of terror?

I stand shaking before the Thrown of God.  The accuser, Satan, lays out all my 
faults and failures before The Almighty.  Shame haunts me, as he cries out my 
sins, one after another.  Feeling small and alone,  my legs give out from 
weakness and I fall on my face in fear, as I see God sit quietly listening, as if in 
disgust.  Just when I think the horrible things Satan reveals of my life seal my 
fate; Jesus stands up and orders Satan, “Be silent!”  My heart leaps!  My breath 
departs from me, until I hear Jesus’  words.  

Jesus reminds God the Father, that it was for those very sins that He died.  That it 
was for those sins His body was ripped and tortured and hung on a cross.  I was 
forgiven when I accepted Him in my heart as my Lord and Savior.  He became my 
covering for my sins and sickness.  

Tears flow, I shake uncontrollably as I hear God the Father say, ‘This is true.  
When you received My Son as your Savior, you received salvation.  His blood 
washed those and all sins away.   I see a vessel white as snow’.  

As I watch, God throws my sins into the abyss, never to be seen or brought up 
again.  I cry tears of joy as I sit at His feet.  ‘I have been saved from torment and 
separation from God’, I rejoice loudly!  

‘Enter, my child’, are the words He says, ‘come to the table and feast.  Dance and 
be merry for you are a child of the Almighty and there is no accuser to condemn 
you.  Rejoice in the salvation of your Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ’.  

In my Father’s House I see others rejoicing for they also have been saved by the 
blood of Christ.  

Beauty surrounds me; living waters flow freely for all to drink.  There is no 
sadness, no fear, and no pain!  Only joy, peace and the presence of Love live 
here.  For we are with the author of Love.  God is Love, He radiates love.  

There is laughter.  I love to hear Jesus’ laugh!  It is so hardy and full of life.  To be 
in the presence of my God and Lord Jesus Christ,  to see their beauty and  feel 
their eternal love covering me is my longing.  I am home in my Father’s house!  

Will this be your story?  Or will yours have a sad ending?  It is your choice. 

God’s Word says , ‘For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten 
Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life’.  
John 3:16 

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My Velvet Princess

My Velvet Princess

As I dry these tears unbidden such a sad anniversary again claims my existence 
She’s gone; the light of my heart and song of my now desolate soul transcended to a place 
beyond my grasp and still a fledgling of right suffers an endless longing
I see no truth in that time can heal all wounds for surely this one will prove to be mortal 
I persist on this coil through my stubbornness and the will of my creator, not by choice 
My most feverent desire is to hear a laugh and see a smile that is meant only for me
Riding a hollow and worthless crescendo of success, achievement, and empty joy 
Illusion breaks a lot more to the skilled adept, so still I keep my misery to me, myself, and I 
In our time together I was mostly a simpleton jester and fool, never callous but bratty and 
overly protective 
So many; too many things left unsaid in the letters my heart never had the chance to send 
Although I’m sure she knew my one desire was always to please her and how much I truly 
Two of a kind, a princess and the scoundrel like peaches with cream so much love apparent 
and shared, now the wisp of a waking dream
So now I stand alone after tasting the sweetness of bliss, one with all and yet none
The only thing she ever showed me was love and sometimes it was tough, made Sang mad 
quite a few times and once or twice I even cried
Then out of the blue on a sunny clear day she fell ill stopped breathing and died; I think a 
part of me with her
So now my princess is an angel that watches and protects me from a place I feel so close 
and yet so far
A past love yet lingers on in the absence of a present, even if in this life I never know love 
again the joy we shared meant the world to me and more
And in time through space I will someday again behold the better half of my soul 
I shed today the occasional tear and smile every time she graces my thoughts in a song with 
no end composed of an infinite love by my angel, my velvet princess.

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Comment to Willy-fred

thanks, dude- yes 100% right-- did you ever get totally shattered by someone you 
love??  Remember how the music in the background took on a whole 'nother 
significance??  A totally new, far more aware, state of being-yet, of course, not 
necessarily a better one....thanks for the comment- send me your email address, 
so we don't have to converse this way.  Mine   Regards, 

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as a kid
we did
in the park
i was sharp
 could play
this i must say
it bounce of the wall
i loved

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am going to have ball
and let the splash fall
going brind all
my friends as summer began
and party hard
im my back yard
going jump and bump
have a beach run in the sun

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my poem is rotton

all the kings men
in the lions den
said they was,when
wind changes ends
all the players
in the milk money pile
afterwhile crocodile

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Feelings of Life

So many feelings clouding the mind
Engulfing emotions, totally entwined:
     Feelings of loneliness
        Feelings of pain
           Feelings of emptiness
              Feelings that can't be explain'd.

                 Feelings of uncertainty
                     Feelings of joy
                        Feelings of ecstasy
                            Feelings of shame
                                Feelings of love, despair , anguish and regret
                                   Feelings of disappointment
                                      Feelings holding strong
                                         Feelings of hopeless uneasiness, guilt
                                            Feelings of right and wrong.

                                                Feelings of mistrust
                                                   Feelings of doubt
                                                       Feelings of being powerless to hold out.

Feelings of unrest
Feelings untapped, untouched, beyond the mind's comprehension.
Feelings of contentment
Feelings of never having enough
Feelings of fulfillment-
Of beauty and of trust.

Feelings of worth holding to 
Feelings to disperse; feelings that bring happiness to nurture at its best.

Feelings to repair a heart that's been broken, bruised by aches and pains
A heart that's still, numb and empty needing to be redeemed-
By the cord of compassionate love and care.
Feelings, feelings, feelings, intimate, lasting and real.

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my books for sale

hey,please go by and check out my books.i have five hand written 
original books for sale with the sixth one coming this week.just put my author 
name,to-wit,in their search engine and they will appear.thanks.all under 
25.00.worth the risk.

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The eye decided on a love sonata or an enchilada of a fable made in love.
Eye have a girl she rocks my world she makes me think of beans and things she 
loves so fine she listens so well she does it all the live in tells me what is means 
to love and eye will answer ewe with this tell me what is means to live with 
someone has a love inside a heart and eye depart for worlds unknown when my 
babay calls me on the internet eye positively moan in some sort of whimper that 
she must never here for she will love too much and mabe even disappear. If she 
could see the purple ecstasy my gragon wings leave upon the scars of a 
forgotten past she could not last another day. Someday we will kiss and help me 
then for let me not get much too elder than eye am now for the old man that eye 
become wants to kisss his love and never stop. Someday comes in the movies 
there is love. Most people show out showing out is fine when one is young but 
there is time when a man gets too old to show out much. The weight begins to 
sag and the hanging gardens of Babylon become the south of Franco buttered in 
rum and left in cold too long. Later comes to me most every night most every time 
eye love. Myopia is a universe of ewe.
AS eye am loving ewe eye am loving myself amid the fantasies of youth the 
vagarities of aged mage as the wonderful heart she it is that loves me gives to 
this myself me and eye and all of mee eye cry if left too long upon the shelf 
please add mee to your mix for love is meant to be taken in self graduated doses 
earning kisses we imagine the hearts so kept in tune.
My love is enchilada and love sonata so hotta for mye ewe.
Ewe oph please drink JIMBEAN whiskey make coffee in a plastic jug and learn to 
drink it cold. Hold both hands and kiss them melt the CharlaX meet the man reap 
the love be mye ewe keep the heart what would life be without the love.

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i glue a head to a carpet and wait for the bar hit to come on the radio.they say 
today,though,my intent was last night.its a fine night for a fight,democrat style,lots 
of slappin,lots of wild punches.

punch drunk love from above came on,and i knew to romance it,for i havent got a 
jingle,must be cris cringle and not ol' saint nick,for he's a catholic dick.

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I called you by name

I call you by name
For I Am the one who named you.

Fear not, that no one is near you
For I am always near.

Your heart aches for others.
Others that you wish were 
Close to me, that would call me Lord.

They run about their lives as if all is well,
In time they will see that they are not fulfilled.
Because of you they have heard of Me
Now it is their choice.

For I take no one that is not willing to come.
They will call My name, they will seek Me.

You have done what you were commissioned,
And have done well.
The compassion in your heart still
Reaches out to them.

Now they will see My glory,
As you are lifted up out of the pit.
I will set you upon a safe precipice
Where no harm may touch you.

Most see struggle as failure or punishment
But you have shown them it is for growth.
And you have grown much, but still have 
More growth to come.

You strive to reach the goal 
And you tire but don’t give up.
This is a precious and valuable trait.

I am your God, I am your Provider.
I bring you peace and comfort.
Healing is given to you that you 
May continue in your walk.

Know My love, for it is the only 
True love there is.

You are My child and I care for you.
Rest now and grow strong.
Take comfort in My peace.

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bring back blacksmiths

wists,kittle bit.see it.we writ the fit humble bit.

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glue,next to the butter
the kitchen cabinet cluttered
a moth flutters next to the kitchen light
been there all night
i eat my plate of red beans and rice

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i wrote down what town i was in
i put it in full view
i seen the news.they do too.they just dont care about alicia hair.
they was double dare and advance me.cans me hot,this is my potato pot.
give all i got till not.this is shot?do we dot the eye with a potato fry.miss 
him,i,seen the not bend me tonight.

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bobby and me

hey,hey,hey,bobby macghee
this i need
do we tweed or damn the man?
yes i am a fan of her
i just didnt slur words on earth

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my book

hello,i have a book coming out on december 1st or just before barring any 
unforseen catastrophe called"SIN,A MEMIOR",and will beavailable at an original write about the hellhole bosque 
bello cemetary in my town fernandina beach,and three ghosts that reside 
there.its a true story and its well written.please consider my book for 
christmas.thank you.

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panty show

likin you
love to do
wants it
cheerleading team,that the thing?
love the strings

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not this one,but........

forgot to log in
doggin them out
in other rooms
shoulder blooms
sky high
we ok to die?

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clay and flowers

the parkinsons disease sat next me.the flower,oh so still houred,do we kill?crazy 
flower,it always ask the time of when we kill.its not up to me,its a sharper 
image.damage done,i be gone,left alone to moan.a phone and a book left by a 
crook.someone's calling,come look.

this is my tribute to randall edson

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Royal wonder

Royal wonder
All bards in times of old
would vie to compose ballads
of her beauty and charm
and flowing tresses spun from gold
so tender and lovely
like the goddess Aphrodite
pure of beauty and love
sends my heart to the clouds
personification of grace 
and gentle like the dove
a sweetness that sets her far above
all the other maidens near
a smile that sets my soul afire
my burning heart and reeling mind
consumed and awash in desire
no mere words could do justice 
if I wrote from now to all time
there’s no way to express what I mean
but the light in her eyes
and the joy that it brings
makes me bow to this beautiful queen

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good or bad????

i kicked a ball and watched it work.the goal posts went bezerk from the idea of 
watching the ball work.the sudden move,the spin,all went in the goalpost

next thing i know a county cop wants to talk to me,wants to know why im recreatin 
on my own time on city property.

guessing its his job,see,i told him i was off today and he said i was off in the 
head.musta been my poetry man,or  my kick.coulda been the talking 
goalposts,guess ill never know.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

shell game

left the fame of name it all
name the game called
was a wall of justice
nuts to us?
lust beg
go meg

been buyin homes
left alone
im on roam
what am i?
not a cell phone
a leave alone

Details | Prose Poetry | |

committ suicide

the night of baultic suprise
the do or die eyes
of marines
try not to dream of him
he's ours
used to be you
now you know why
americans do

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as you go
go slow
but know
what you need
to sucee
study for a test
you will get the rest
its not mean

Details | Prose Poetry | |


so?i owe.thats the division.sis and hun.they give me gun.and go.

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i aint gettin any
nobody rides for free
if its me its ephiphany
whats the deuteromity?
slow down
dont let em hear

Details | Prose Poetry | |

hello omar

thanks omar; re spelling; i'm orig. from brooklyn; not only are we expected to 
spell everything wrong, we can't even talk the king's the way...who is 
our king these days?  does he speak english?  LOL-  thanks, and what'cha think 
of Forbidden Planet?  sorry to use this medium (instead of well-done?), but you 
left no email address.  thanks for the comments, Soup Forever!!!!! Tom

Details | Prose Poetry | |


my book"sin,a memoir"is now available for purchase at in the 
supernatural section.this book lists my time ghosthunting in bosque bello 
cemetary,fernandina,florida.its real,hand written and a copy and say 
you knew me when.makes a great chritmas gift.thanks,to-wit.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

poem of it

your like my life
cut you with a knife
ive seen the night
about as bright as the shade
these days

to all the old writers,like edson,burroughs,reece,gensburgh,salinger

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no hosting no holds barred
simply are
the vine
of grapes
you keep eating
you ape

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union of the snake

try as i might
i cannot church
it hurts
the jesus stripe
runnin down my back
ive been whipped before
by the lore of your legend
im no beggin fool
andi still think ill go to heaven
did you have em?
im laughin

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who's the man{to tracy and terry smiles}

try and double back
me crack ho's
this i never know
i was tracked?
gimme back my bucks
now im outta luck

Details | Prose Poetry | |

sxxgunn hanging

down on the sign by the soda street
theres a boy i'd like to meet
his name was caffrey none too soon
he left the saloon
palce doom
he cold boom a ball with a kick
he could be it
to fidgit
some somebody got his gun
now,we was one but overcome
to-wit sun

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power angle

books and wheels
some of us spills the feel out
then we get out
suddenly a couple emmerges
he splurges on himself a drink
thats the thing
thats your big man
then his hand turns rich
then the son of a jerk gets sick
he do
he marry you
then he improves
and your through
then the two time loser finds hers
she was sure
she didnt sleep with him
she made him dream
thats the thing
thats my poem
im under one

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I hunger

I hunger after You
Longing to see You face

Wanting peace within
I long for that peace again

What did I do, where did I go?
That You would seem so far from me

Worldly things got in my way
My heart turned from You

Emptiness fills my days
Sadness fills my soul deeply

Know that I need Your joy
Forgive me, take me back into Your arms!

I thirst after You
Let me drink in Your presence

My spirit seeks Your comfort
My soul desires Your peace

My heart cries out for Your love
I hunger after You, oh Lord

For my desire is to be with You
Take me back into Your arms, hold me tight!

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crack lip

do me like a lady who knew me
sue me in court
lets covort on the worn out carpet and start it up
the neighborhood gut wrench
the stinch in the street allows me to be supreme
and im the king of all ive seen

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the cold empty hands
the damn speak
the cold empty hands
the damn speak
the crazed bat eyes and expect understanding
the damned speak
and nearness happened
just about out of time

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excellent news

a man in a shirt in a window.he's dumb but he can pen,though.saw the orchastra 
with his mom.saw his dad do her harm.sixtie's charm school effect,you bet the 
set when you act like that.if im bad i wanna be good so i never get to enjoy being 
bad.if i could i would run for prez,tell him i said.if he's dead he's wants to be 
me,thats the bet,come and see me.

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old pages and hats

in june,the lady bugs dance and hugs mean so much more
the ladies dance,score,the floor melts from shoe work
quircky crabby men in some bin of county work,folklore poke.
dropey answers,these thoughts be cancer,whats the matter still?i am an envious 
poet of the nothing news,and i got rhymes,table of content skills and west wind 
pills.oh,bell,aireborn virus,why oh why us,make em understand,a poems in 
hand.theres nothing to do till money comes through.