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Prose Poetry Courage Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Courage

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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.

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes

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Message to You

Please dry your eyes, now don’t you cry...
Let me share with you a lullaby....
I used to tuck you into bed....
Back when you were young....and such a sleepy head....
Disappointments are many in this life we lead....
But I know you’re strong and will succeed....
Please trust in me for I have a message to send....
You will never back down or crack and bend....
It is your nature to love and be kind....
Negatives don’t linger in your mind....
You're still that little girl who once sat on my knee....
With those big blue eyes looking up at me....
So I would like to take this opportunity....
When there's not enough sun....and  too much rain....
Lots of happiness, and very little pain....
Just like the moment, when my heart did sing....
With all the joy that you did bring....
To each, and every one of us....
Without any fret and not much fuss....
I am very proud of what you have become....
And all your accomplishments of what you’ve done....
Unconditional love will never go out of style....
When your tears can be replaced.....
With this Grandmothers’ smile....

Copyright © kj force

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Close enough

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


Metempirical
Scenes
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
Home
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

Pause
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

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

Copyright © Eli Mahirah

Details | Prose Poetry | |

One Day at a Time

When I was young the stress clouds were more reliable, they came and went just like the light of day and the dark of night. As I got older, the stress clouds became more obstinate, seemed more serious, and stayed in my head as permanent residents. Then one day the clouds stopped moving. The dark foreboding clouds just sat there putting pressure on my body like an unattended pot of boiling water. That’s when I got the first message. One of the dark clouds spoke to me in my sleep and said, get your act together; there’s a difference between family and things.

After that, the stress clouds started moving again, changing their position in my head depending on the time of day. The pot of boiling water calmed down and the things got fixed and faded away into the light of day. But the family stress clouds were different. They had more energy and talked to me every day in the language of dying and the language of struggling and the language of trying. The pot of water continued to bubble around the edges making a painful clamor within my spirit.

That’s when I got the second message.  It came from the bubbles and reminded me of an ensemble of singers. The music was warm and inviting and sounded like elegant thinking. Manage the stress clouds one day at a time they sang with an encouraging voice. Manage the stress clouds one day at a time.
 

Copyright © Howard Dion

Details | Prose Poetry | |

DAMAGED MY TRUE LOVE

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...



Copyright © Denise Hopkins

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fear Unleashed

Shoulder less as the head of the hoodless horse men, I serener and call this portfolio ''fear unleashed'',

Minted and fresh like a sonnet of delay time, 
I smirked and crowned it face up and blind, 
It renewed as connection to you.
Panic without a distracted, I ask what is this strange feeling.
Like a rotten apple at its core, peal from inside and out backers, 
And send to its career. It's the 'Scented of News”. Why do I question this cry, what sweet wine could miss this pour (poor)   of a this cup, 
Of this most conscience days off wedge and fetal, 
I ask fear to look me in the eye and tell me what do you see? 
Do you see love do you see hate tell me what do you see. 
The hungry of the blind could tell you this snore of a wound, 
The Ambition of hungry separates the food (fool)   from the hungry, 
The ability to succeed left to stump at choose of will, 
Not stepping on steel, I seek the hungry! ! !, This vision have push me toward my fears and The light doesn't fade it merge to gray, and it make me question my existing? .... (Lost) 
   
The lost, of my love once of not knowing the color of my first born, One's stir the heat in my belly,
That; scour the core of the scent of rotten apple and cure the descended with a decision? Like a literally to a clock it time to untwine, as I seek redemption green and yellow what a mixes
Of blue in the face, oh what symmetry of colors, I cry, better yet morrow in my tears to apply to the college of my choice, will it self make a dream appears, found guilty and appear I feel refresh and the hand that I have been giving. It remind to be played 
Like cards of hands how will I finish on top or stacker tip top....?

Hands to a dagger and flack jacks to a successor, will, this inflate an ego of a strange memo left to be babbling, I guess I caught the Saddle.
Maid to captivity these here days, this here bless it day! Is the day I apply to college and will forever be know? To; be as “Fear Unleashed”.

Copyright © Louis Borgo

Details | Prose Poetry | |

EYES SHUT TIGHT

EYES SHUT TIGHT

Afraid to look, eyes shut tight
l am a child in the
DARK seeing shadows
in a room all alone.
I pray for a brother
or a sister,to laugh
in the dark with me.
We could play
until day break, and
then fall asleep.
Shadows bouncing off walls
lights from the passing cars causing  
reflections to dance in my mirror.
The music is not sweet,
loudly it booms
scares me I cannot sleep.
No one to tell me stories
no one to chase away
the boogie man.
I hit the floor on my knees..
I pray to the lord."
"God please" I need a friend to be
here in the dark with me"
I am not picky a sister or
a brother will do,
I will be brave.
I shall shield them
from these shadows;
I will hold them and comfort them,
I will open my eyes for them..
and no longer be afraid.
I do not want to be,an
"Only Child.

Copyright © Vicki Acquah

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Super Man

The rise and fall of a broken soul; the pressure was too much to bear
The letter S was too brave to wear. He was a symbol, a pure form of admiration. Yet his life was 
not his own; full grown; denied the freedom of one’s true life journey
He could never fathom an opportunity of free will for he lived to will free others who hide in his 
silhouette
The darkest shadow brought an abundance of light to the needy. And greedy.
An unadorned model of self-less love dug him an early grave being a slave to aiding. Although 
help was never offered to a man that had a sense of direction. Every step forward followed 
echoing steps behind.
His feet became a carrier. The load was heavy
Regret was constant. Where was kryptonite when he needed it?

Copyright © Kira Price

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Martyrs

'' I love my country! I love my India! "
We hear slogans loud and clear,
On 15th August, on 26th January,
When the days of celebrations are near.

Where do these promises die?
Are these patriotic feelings a lie?
Or just to make an impression,
And snap pictures as tri-colors fly.

Apart from these days,do we see the need?
To apply these emotions, do we pay the heed? 
Or just a way to celebrate something,
Like every other event and gathering.

Remember that ugly era,
Where days were like nights,
Where no one was allowed to dream,
And were suppressed when there were fights.

Remember the atrocities against which,
Our previous generations suffered,
The whips from the '' Outsiders'' 
When rejected '' Their '' rules offered, 

From heinous crimes against goodwill,
" Jallian wala bagh"  to "Simon go back!",
After so much struggle and so much pain,
To fight for freedom which we lacked!

Sacrifices which cannot be measured,
Patriotism where sky is the limit,
Refusing the injustice and opposing the system,
To free the country from the"foreign" hit. 

Gandhi, Nehru, Patel or Bose,
Difference in name, feelings the same, 
Salute everyone and the sky glows,
With only respect and not due to fame. 

Why do we forget our history of freedom?
How can we not respect and honor its prestige?
And witness our nation in such a dirt? 
Of politics, corruption, crime in fatigue?
Why not raise your voice? 
Against these social evil deeds?
And give our patriotism meaning,
To the nation on which we feed. 

Its October 2nd some days from now,
And no one would admire Gandhi's work,
A formality completed, a speech given,
While actual celebrations are somewhere in cirque,

Friday it is, the new film day,
And We ll watch movies in this holiday,
Give a thought to what you do,
Give a sense to what you say,
Slogans and tricolor turbans wont help,
If country's rising generation is watching movies in national holiday,
Be responsible and step up for the nation,
And make it a country, you can be proud of,
Where women are respected not only on women's day,
But with true sense of love in each and every way.

Copyright © Suraj Grover

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Vision She Seeks

Through her eyes-

a vision she seeks;

Over and over-

Her thoughts repeat;

Analyzing a future,

That may already be bleak.

Fearing the peak- So very often, She does not sleep; Her restless eyes grow weak.

  A women so fierce and strong-

Though now she weeps;

Not aware that I'm watching-

So out it seeps.

 

The pain that she harbors inside- Intensified, By what her thoughts had verified.

I watch her giving heart-

And observe her habit of self sacrifice;

And I know on her its hard,

And I see that she's immobilized-

As the loneliness rots her insides.

 

A certain depth that lives within her;

An undiscovered truth;

I watch, as she pleads adventure-

Escape from a painful youth.

Copyright © Carly Larkin

Details | Prose Poetry | |

MELODIES OF SHAME

 Blind senses of my soul
keep on protruding in my mind
Pop,pop, popping
inside my head
hot tears flow down my cheeks
as silent words shout unsung
songs
silent hymns dominate my erect
eardrums

Minds are blinded,
notches of heavy hearts misled
as the intellect produce Havoc,
Havoc of no purpose at all
And the young buds slip down
the slippery road
the road to destruction
taking with them our discordant
dreams
as sachetted whisky rule their
blood streams

current affairs,poison to their
ears
daylight snatching,songs that
entertain their null heads
as their mental intellect stays
chaste
when the royals on the hill
shambles their produce
while fake smiles swallow their
sweat
and a cough they produce not
though they are sick and ill

minds they have condensed
emotions they have frozen
and click,click, a lock
locking their naked hearts in
cages
while letting their intellect rot
and their futures stuck
a deliberate conception of no
words

is it choice, fear or mere humility?
That they sniff a fathers dangling
pseudopod
snatching the innocence of
sisters pride?
And zip their loud toilets?
That they see a brother in the
streets
and fail to drop a coin, or even a
shirt?
When will you take the wheel
youths of Malawi?
To steer the ship to other tides?
To take a sober leap of leadership
that will transform the poor land?
Melodies i sing- melodies of
shame

Copyright © Madalitso mwaungulu

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Is There Still Hope

I beseech thee to
answer
Is there still
hope???

Forgetting their
vows of chaste they
become lecherous
Fighting for power,
they become
ambitous.
Their actions make
people shock
For they forget why
they put on the
cassock.
Respect for God, our
clergies no longer
have
But so greedy with
the things they
have.
They make not,
benedictions to
empty pockets
But go for the rich
to enrich
themselves.
Churches are now
business centers for
money
Clergies bless only
those who make the
offertory box full.

SO BROTHER, IS THERE
STILL HOPE??

They stand as if
pious to duty
But pious are they,
to money.
They check not the
motor
But go for “500frs”
which is their
motto.
They can be seen
standing with zeal
Hands stretch, they
stand still
First, they stamp
After collecting
bribe, they champ

SO SISTER, IS THERE
STILL HOPE??

The rich live
mysteriously
And enjoy themselves
like angels
While the poor live
in mysery
And die because of
negligence.

TO YOU, IS THERE
STILL HOPE??

Embezzlement in
Cameroon is a virtue
It is practised in
all offices
Thieves go in broad
daylight unscathed
While the innocent
ones are caught and
they cant fight.

My country is said
to be democratic
But elections have
never been smooth
For  a score and
ten, the president
has stayed in power
Using deceit and the
gun to rule.
IS THIS HOW IT
SHOULD BE??

Virgins have now
liquidated
themselves
They prefer being
ravishe.
Whores, they become
in quest for money;
My black girls don’t
like their colour
They strive to be
whites
Thus, monsters they
become in a bid to
peel their skin
Very few believe in
“black is beauty.”

Brothers copulate
sisters
While fathers
copulate daughters.

IS THERE STILL HOPE?

" 1st price, poetry
contest, 
 poemsclub.com,
April 2014"

Copyright © temajung michael

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Soul Awakening

Soul Awakening

Wrapped in your arms
My soul awakened 
From a long dark sleep
My heart is now alive
No more do I weep
My lover’s smile 
So tender and true
A sweet ray of God’s sunshine 
Lead me to you
Blissful now
Content somehow 
Where once my heart 
Was pummeled 
And pounded
No more do I fear
Love sounds
Sounded…
Love is now all that I hear
So hold me close
My darling one
With you by my side
All fear is gone….

Copyright © Jennifer Turner

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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.

Copyright © Aya Salah

Details | Prose Poetry | |

If I Had Cancer


The Big C

If I had cancer I would cry
Brother, mother, grandfather
Lost to this disease
Firsthand knowledge not a gift
Could it be a lie?

If I had cancer I would pray
To the only god I know
For courage, strength
For me and family
Could it be I'll die?

If I had cancer I would run
From pain and death
As far as fast as I could
Away from a cruel fate
Can anyone relate?

If I had cancer
Stand and fight--maybe
For a time a valiant effort
But in the end
I will fly away on angel's wings

If I had cancer



Patricin Lynne

Copyright © Patricia Janke

Details | Prose Poetry | |

An End to Aloneness

In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so. 
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction. 

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea. 

I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want. 

And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch. 

                                                                              But I would like to…

I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door. 
	
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.  
	
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
							                                 finally
								                                   finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.

Copyright © Molly McCarthy

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Phobia For Adrenaline

We're together in this, the fault is ours withhold the explanation we'll share the blame. "Not in this life! my take is already on the billboard" Now is the time to stick together holding each other, sharing one umbrella until this trying moment is over. "No way! I'm definitely leaving the squad". On the first sight of danger and an unpleasant situation of horror. 'Forgive me! but I'm stepping backwards" Persistence pays refined is the product coming through thick and thin be a risk taker and have guts. "Please, I don't need the award". Now is the time let's seize the moment a fool is the person who kicks opportunities away. "You go ahead, I'll do that afterwards" It's all about sacrifices subject yourself to undue limitations for the benefit of your next generation. "hell No! I'm definitely going overboard" The battle may seem bigger but you're more than capable examine the challenge, but focus on your strength. "Thank you! But I'm dropping my sword" Be unique, be different don't follow the crowd be a trail blazer and a pace setter. "So that I stand odd?" On the road to glory and a monster appears despite the capability to overcome he deviates from going goalwards. His achievements make neighbours bored his fury towards strain makes him seem awkward and his strong will becoming flatter than an Apple Keyboard What a being! His excellency, Mr. Coward.

Copyright © Funom Makama

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Moment of Hope The Invisible Man 30

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Copyright © Terry Trainor

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Wore That Yesterday

The same frown...
The same sad face...
The same dismay
over and over ..

You said the same
mean words to hurt me. 
Today I choose
to wear smiles.

I have come miles 
since yesterday!  
The happiness I felt...
The freedom I have now...
Since you left 
and went away; 
Please in fact, 
don't come back! 

Putting me down-
Wanting to see me
with that same
sad face,with
that same 'ole frown. 
The same dismay.  
I can't wear 
those feelings 
anymore no way.

For I wore 
that yesterday.  
No complaints,
self esteem  
has risen.  
It feels good to be free
from your 
verbal prison. 

Nope, I am wearing a smile,
enjoying my new freedom.
No frown-no
feeling down-no dismay.  

Can't wear that outfit,
feeling like a misfit, 
see I wore that
yesterday! ....
     
No way can you 
taunt or daunt 
my spirit or depress 
my spiritual side.
No more can you 
appall or terrify 
or fill me up with 
apprehensions.
  
I am free! 
No longer disabled;
So ring the alarm-
I won't respond,
I have the courage,
The courage to say.
I am not wearing 
those feelings of dismay,
I wore them yesterday.
So say what you must 
and do what you will.

My spirit has 
traveled far from you.     
Today is my day.
So don't come back
to try and dress me in
that old tired suite,
made by Mr. Dis-May 
I don't wear that
label anymore ...  
I wore that yesterday.

Copyright © Vicki Acquah

Details | Prose Poetry | |

i wish i was his

What is this that makes me blossom with bliss                                 
making every part of my body freeze
and the whole world and its occupants seize
when i glance at him i wish
that i was the only one  he feels
but am wrong,oh!how i realy wish i was his!

I see him everyday,in my heart i pray
that one very day,he will have something to say,
that will make me stay ,
and hear me say,"i have waited for this day"
oh!how i wish i was his!

Copyright © Matilda Sila

Details | Prose Poetry | |

OVERCOMING FLAWS

OVERCOMING FLAWS I heard laughter in a distance and wondered why this annoyed me. Then I realized that what they laughed about was what did not define humor. Therefore, who laughed twisted their senses. This morning, as each, I awoke with a mood swing. Things were going as they should from what had previously occurred. Let me explain. I go through this twilight form. I am zone via income. You may go ridiculous but this is done via the government. Quite an annoyance... What annoy are mediums that are formed from corruption. In a storyteller form, I developed the imagination. To implement, I tell a tall tale through the lens of non-fiction. However, true accounts are hidden within the excitement. The tale goes, once upon a time, in the world of expression, lived a woman who was quite annoyed. If you spoke to her, she became annoyed. When you smile at her, you found that she was annoyed. This would annoy you; therefore, I begin to not speak to Maxine or smile at Maxine. Maxine had Graves’ disease, which caused bulging eyes. She was a refined woman but wanted you to see her otherwise. What annoys is that she made it seem as if you caused this negativity in her life. Aggravation makes an annoying situation. When your life is not as you want, whom do you blame? What annoys me the most when you blame me and I do not have any means to cause you any pessimism. Provocation of such states you have not done what you should. You are liable to you own self-identity, self-worth, and self-esteem. Do not accuse me. Inasmuch, this is what annoys me!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

I am what you call a hopeless 
romantic,
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 
me
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 
flame,
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.

Copyright © Mark Ramon

Details | Prose Poetry | |

About Face

I lurk in the shadow of band with words worthy of the pianist's hands. My nature speaks, not rings in tones. Sadly my lady's words rain dour doubts building wall's of stone; let the music of voice reign! pleasure rain! Chip the stone pebble by pebble and remember your name, it has never changed though life's outcome shall by not embracing the day. Love me as I love you and we will be love true. Remember your mother's music, for it is the womb's tune that guides you through and through. Do those young eyes forget their right to stare without regret at revelation of a soul bared? My world harnesses lust, truth, love, desire, these attributes I long to share. Befuddled? Yes, I can be. It's nature not the choice of me. Even thoughts forgot wander wondering at how it can be, pride over perjury? Shame takes precedence  sadly through time, preceding all I believed to be mine. Defeat? No... I don't think, though, I cannot deny slight retreat. Where are the lies built on emotion? Those protective cries that hold dominion over forward motion? As always, truth stands in solitude as the only word as brave as love. When truth possesses love and selflessness! Can it actually be as it appears after all the year's of the damned favoring me? In closing it seems I'm fending the fears that taught my years the wizardry of all that I have seen.

Copyright © Ryan Wegenast

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Garden Club Ruse part 1 of 2

For years no one ever had a clue...
Of the secret she hid..no 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....
	

Copyright © kj force

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Begun

What was to begun,began
What was at hand needed a hand
On its own two feet it will stand 
And all of the kings pawns and all the kings men 
Couldn't get it back in order again
Where will we achieve
Where will we compensate
Where is relief
Where will we dominate
Well dominate in belief
Cause we shoot for the stars 
How can we calculate if we don't know who we are
If we are who they perceive us to be
We should succeed naturally
Straight up organic
Making decisions in a panic
Will make all the difference 
Our actions speak for them selves we don't need reference 
One day at a time
Without rhythm or rhyme. 
We chaulk up another day 
And we accomplish it our own way

Copyright © Mark Brucato

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dark Night

Dark night of my soul
Where fear and pain reside,
As rulers on their throne,
What courage cannot muster
To fight this battle within
And overcome its hold.
I seek to find resolve
To enter and seek a way to find
A way to remove its hold
In the dark night of my soul
And morning joy I seek
When it’s time does peak.
Dark nigh its lessons bring
If I seek to find them, 
While morning waits to come.

Copyright © Cathi Spooner

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A light in the dark

You are a light in the dark

the shadows follow but Your

love stands inside to keep me holding

Your hand so wide.



You are a light in the dark

it's scary out here in the

deep wide world that's not my home,

but Your love holds onto my heart

deep inside we never depart.


Your a light in the dark

when I feel so alone

You take hold of the inner parts

deep in my soul.


Oh Lord, how I long to be home,

YOUR my true light in the dark.



Written By:©Betty Bolden

Copyright © Betty Bolden

Details | Prose Poetry | |

She was not delicate

She was not delicate,
she was an athlete,
poised, confident,
yet withdrawn.
She had competed,
pushed herself to the
edge of her limits,
overcame the long,
dull, training sessions,
and finished her race.
Now she stood with her
team mates, her adversaries,
watching the sports therapist
knead their muscles, ease
their tension, reward their
success for they had all
succeeded.  She pulled her
hat down tightly over
her head, and watched,
edging slowly closer.
Finally, she committed
herself to the inevitable
and took her place.  It was
a simple occipital release
technique, and it had dislodged
the hat from every head.
She pulled her hat tighter,
and slowly relaxed.
The muscles were eased,
the tension allowed to
drain.  Then – it happened!
The hat slipped, falling 
to the ground.  She made no 
attempt to retrieve it,
made no attempt to cover
the emblem of her cancer.
When her post event massage was
over, the therapist picked up
her hat and handed it to her.
She did not put it back on.
She was beautiful, in the delicate
innocence of childhood.
She was an athlete.

John G. Lawless//for Make Me Cry contest//
7/2/2014          //Dan Kearley – sponsor//

Copyright © John lawless

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Woman Warrior's Soliloquy

My country, the U.S.A. is not for men only but for all Her children 
and that’s why I joined the military to protect this beautiful country 
from all the foes who surround us.

To defeat the enemies 
who wanted to quench the ever-burning torch 
that our Lady of Liberty holds high in the air
I joined the military with pride.

Whether they are visible or not,
I must keep my vigilant eyes on enemies
go and attack their fortress before they attack us,
make them fall to the ground before they harm our Lady 
who stands tall by the eastern shore of this beautiful country.

As a woman,
I know there are many different ways to serve the country 
with feminine trends, do good to the society, add something 
to make better for the future generations to come, 

I chose to wear a military uniform, nonetheless.
Because I heard the horrible story of Peal Harbor
from my grandpa when I was a little girl,
I witnessed the fall of the Twin Towers
and the death of many innocent lives 
only because they were American,
only because this country is unbearably beautiful 
to the eyes of those covetous enviers.

I understand that 
from the beginning of the history of our nation 
to this critical hour of war on terror,
many lives were sacrificed to keep America strong,
there were many men and women who fought to keep America 
as the country with the spirit of unyielding,
and that’s why I joined the military.

I am a proud daughter of America
the most beautiful country in the world.
I am a uniformed service woman of America
the mightiest country on earth.

Let us keep America for the people of America,
let us make our Star-Spangled Banners flutter 
on the top of our nation’s highest mountains forever. 


*For International--exclusively for U.S., Women's Day 

		

Copyright © Su Ben

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Courage is required and also pain to become a hero

I begin to rediscover love.
May it be true and
Reciprocal in order to feel
true love, the sun of happiness.
  
  I am enamored of her.
What shall be my next move
to take her castle? And hence,
we view each other from
Each other's towers, from
which I descend to assail
The barriers blocking me from her.

Courage is required and also pain to become a hero.

Copyright © Victor Chavez