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Prose Poetry Dedication Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Dedication

These Prose Poetry Dedication poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Dedication. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Dedication poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Galaxies Came Between

He'd be typing away on his desk
with blueprints for the next big thing,
While I'd be staring off into the azure sky
appreciating the "insignificant" things

You really are a genius
in your field of technicalities,
with which you thoroughly water;
A wife, a place of your own,
and a destination in mind

Me?

You'll find me in the corner
(no not a corner... think rounded edges,
much more safe)
Half past ten, still in bed,
with rolls of cash in a Ziploc bed
(I'm not dealing and I'm sorry if I gave you that
impression... more likely
just a descendant of Scrooge)

Your perfectly organized life
(my just screw it attitude)
Well I must say you are on your way,
but where exactly too?

I solemnly wish
we had, but one thing
in common, dearest brother,
Even with the knowledge
that I wrote this for you
I'm sure deep down
you'd think this quite sappy

And being the person that I am
I'd immediately think of tree metaphors
(now what what rhymes with cedar?)

And being the person you are
you'd probably just go about your day
wondering about the latest Apple product

You live next door
and yet somehow
galaxies came between us,
Practical you gathered sticks and stones
for your shelter here on Earth

(I was too busy daydreaming
on Mars)

From the moment I opened my eyes
and peaked my little head out
from the pool in the backyard,
we were brothers, through and through

... so why do I have this nagging urge
to shake your hand and ask



"Have we met?"

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dedication To All My Poetry Friends

                  ~Dedication To All My Poetry Friends~

My head is spinning my ears are ringing my system is living 
my singing don't know why I felt like writing with no books 
just words to explain my remarkable intentions after meeting
all of you through our poetry. 

Although I had average education, that is why when I write poetry
I have only one way of sharing my feelings, and it is the simplest 
way, the way I talk casually and I try to be proud of myself, especially 
when I read poems written by all of you, such deep words, such smooth 
lines, quality, beautiful, rhyming, your writings are pieces of rare art, 
and I am flattered and honored to have had the opportunity to be 
accepted by all of you.

I had low esteem of myself for not ever trying to force
my dad to allow me to continue my studies well now its too late,
but I can write with pride as I am self educated to write poetry 
between thousands of very highly intellectual colleagues.

When I am with everyone of you, I am so impressed by your writing skills
nothing seems impossible our discussions through writing and reading 
changed the course of my dreams and added hope for another tomorrow.

When I am with all of you, I feel so fortunate to have met
everyone of you through sharing our poetry and comments
I will look forward for deeper friendships. 
When I am reading your poems it awakens in me a stronger 
intellectual consciousness. 
Thank you for allowing me to have a new life,
with immense happiness. 



Poem of Dedication....... Sandy Ivy D
       5/4/2013

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Listen To The Unsaid

 
"Because I Love You."
 

     Because I love you
      together, we could
       sleep on our bed head to head,
          listen to the unsaid 
            light the flame without a name.
                                                    
Because I love you
together, we could 
   pretend its real
     listen to the unsaid 
        blow the snow & steal the wind.
                   
Because I love you
together, we could
   dream and scream 
      listen to the unsaid
         when resting in our nest.
                  
Because I love you
together, we could 
    watch the tide 
       listen to the unsaid
         while sitting side by side.
                  
Because I love you
together, we could
     be from the very few
           listen to the unsaid
                  as we only knew.
                        
Because I love you
together, we could
    hold hands just stand,
         listen to the unsaid
             then dance to the band.
                     
                                          I Will Always Love You
                                                     Together. 
                                                              . 2/6/2013
                                                             By. Therese Bacha

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mama's Song

I wander through my journey, interspersed with joy and pain, always grateful 
Though not by choice, some days are somber; yet others follow with abundant joy
In my solitude, memories come alive with the recall of some old song from another time
When life was carefree in everyway! No worries and not one care!
First heard as a child; the title now lost to me, so I’ll call it "Mama’s Song"
It’d start off soft and slow; its rhythm smooth, graceful, incredibly beautiful!
Then lingering on my mind, gently reviving memories lost somewhere in yesterday
It’d calm my spirit, take me away- away from countless, mundane tasks
All necessary things, but they arrest my days, imposing, threatening, vying for attention

There’s a constant battle that rages within, and I often ask, “Should I lay down this burden  
of joyless pursuits which hinder valid expressions from my heart?  Should I?
And to what profit?  Surely monetary gain is a necessity, but at what cost to my spirit??
Were I guardian only to myself, I’d simply choose to live lean somewhere by the sea
I would cast my net for food, and barter for grain and herbs.  However, the compass is set
So, I escape in the melodies, with my eyes closed, and fly high, above this terrain
Sailing on the massive wings of a Condor, unafraid; over rugged pathways and
Jagged edges of mountains that rise above the seas, far away from this place of constant 
weariness, on my way to a place more tranquil, somewhere in yesterday
I hover over rivers that give life to green valleys below, quite an amazing view to see!
Like black velvet ribbons they meander through the changing landscape
At an angle they shimmer like fine crystal in the afternoon sun, and in one breath,
I am there! At Mama’s feet, studying her as she sews dresses for my sisters and me 
I watch, I listen to her, softly singing; feel her contentment and peace through the song
Never complaining, never too tired to go beyond the call, to love and care for family 
Teaching by example, using less words, her quiet spirit, ever steadfast, strong
Those times when I feel I can not go on, when afraid I'll falter, I still hear the the melody 
and "Mama's Song"!

Note:  For Mama - Thank you for putting us first! For the many lessons learned which we nowteach our children.  RIP w/Papa!!

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

AND ON THAT DAY

   AND ON THAT DAY…
   (APROPOS MLK: PART 1)

And on that day we will rise
And raise the hued shades of ignorance
And let the light of truth shine on our souls
And purify our hearts with warm rays of hope.

And on that day we will rise
And see rumors of wars sucked into black holes of peace.
And the phoenix birds shall give birth to cooing doves.

And on that day we shall confront our humanity
And boldly say to it, you must become all we can be;
And seek forgiveness for the acts that trampled the will of God;

And hope for redemption for the shredded dreams deferred.

And on that day America shall awaken from her slumber
And stretch forth her weary arms yawning a Nicodemus yawn.

And that day shall be the dawning of new beginnings;
And the chameleon shall change its colors no more.

And each hued hope shall be woven into the fabric of common destiny.
And the wheels of time shall roll us over into the New Jerusalem…

And on that day America will sing a new song;
And it shall be: My country’s tears to thee…
And on that day God will say: Well Done!

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Harvest Of The Seed


  
  Each field is barren white with snow, 
around me blind, they know.
I see.
Darkness brings the haze of dawn, 
how many must it show.

While many miles of web it's barb, 
my flesh, 
it tastes and grows.

Bringing home the wheat, 
ground white, 
and powdered souls, 
spread open far and wide.

Touching only youth, 
not men, 
Each gem from stone, 
pours out and lost our seed it keeps.
No more.


j.McC. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 

Copyright © Poetry Is It | Year Posted 2009

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.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Madre part two

 Don Coto's..

 face smiles no more
 Only in memory
 Paving the way for others
 with dreams and aspirations
 Arriving at these shores 
 To prosper achieving those dreams
 And hopes that our forefather set
 So many years ago while the moon
 Looked on :-)  tides rolling in and out
 like clock work fish dancing to the 
 Florescent harmony of the stillness
 The trip took many months
 With many risks,so coming to this point 
 This time this place..I think about  
 Don Coto's flag ship la 'Cocora' 
 Now a memory lingering on and on
 She was sold for scrap years before
 We now go sailing on planes with wings
 Like the beautiful birds seen flying high
 Driving Upwards by the warm thermals 
 Sailing past Ponce Deleon and old San Juan
 Reminiscing through my past,leaving behind
 Our companions never to be seen again
 The fisherman of el Farro and Playa Santa
 Putting our noses against the window
 Of This flying machine
 To see this brand-new world in its grandeur
  I Dios mio,oh my god
  a Cold blustery morning it was 
  We left the balmy Tradewinds in morning 
  As we exit the this flying Machine
  And enter a new world
  White flakes racing from out of nowhere
  Hearing my uncle Pedro ,watch your step 
  Watch your step stopping every every few feet
  Allowing the fluffs of white to enter my mouth
  Flicking my tongue like el Coqui 
  In between chattering teeth
  but a thought comes to mind 
  A sadness,accentuated by a harsh reality
  A new way of life A new language
  A brand new shiny culture
  Our old home left behind and now a new land 
  Called Los Estados Unidos
  The United States
   mi Nuevo Mundo 
   Our new world 

     bless us all...


 

   
    


Copyright © Tonytocaa Camacho | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Our Mother's Song

We sing a song to our Mother's soul who has passed and gone
she sings back as an angel from beyond and drops a tear 
as we sleep so we won't wake and weep

On earth she gave us birth and strength to shine in this universe
and to remember family comes first for even in death
we have rebirth and a life of worth

So, we sing a song to our Mother's soul who has passed and gone
we will remain strong and will carry on for this beautiful angel
from beyond who has bygone for our mom. 

T Reams 2/10/2015   to my sweet sister Jenny in memory of our mother Barbara

Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Light In Your Eyes

When I saw a diamond
yesterday, I saw the fire
which lives in your eyes

I saw the deep blazing
beauty that often causes
grown men to cry

I felt the pains that
many in life endure,
who suddenly find a
very deep need…

To have that fire alive 
within the diamonds heart 
become the one to satisfy 
their daily needs

For in that tiny window
I saw something precious
which might even compare
to you

Yet when I saw your
smile as the sun rose 
this morning I could no
longer continued with 
this sad ruse

For even though the 
brilliant flame of a 
diamond, will burn so 
very bright…

Even its brilliance alone
can never compare to the 
radiance that daily fills
your eyes with its exquisite
light.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Only For You

Only For You

Known, nothing will be written about me
In any poem, story or essay

Known, will not receive any co-operation from Governments
Any honest or dishonest award...

Nobody will burn incense on the day of my death
Except my wife!

Nobody will celebrate my birthday
My birthday celebration will not happen...

Although I am walking...thinking...creating...

Only for You....Only for You...
Only for You...My dream future...

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

Copyright © Sandip Goswami | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

WOMAN

Day by day we pray to stay alive, ladies, the face of this world is slowly changing, no longer do we need to hold our heads in disgrace, and it’s about time we take our place. No longer let us be connived, nor let us forget the silent cries in trees that our sista’s souls are still hangin’, see the true in others denies rather waistin’ yourself complaining. Nor keep us from strength to stand by man, strength to leave if struck by hand, no more bruises upon our face for we also help to make this race. No more scars upon our souls for only marked with beauty moles and let our stories be fortold for we are women who behold, a key to inspiration and moral pride, coming out of our hide, Gods rules are to which one should only apply, but most chose pain to keep inside, left alone and died. Your elimination of God’s creation, we are but faith to this nation. Men of ignorance we are sick of belligerence, cuz we prove intelligence, cuz where there’s no woman there is no man strong and on this land we belong as distinct and separate persons walk along. Before your ignorance get the respect that you so vainly seek, practice what you claim til' all things you do or speak shall in reality be the same, nor let us be so eased to blame and give us our well earned past due fame, all musical and sorrowful stories contained. My people, make me proud to know your name and I’ll return the favour by doing the same.
For all men whom think us fast, remember the good ones always finish last, we women are still raped future and past so personally you can kiss my ... In us your babies wombs all your life fluids we consume, to mothers growing up too soon, to those mommas babies and daddy’s maybes.....REMEMBER, when your round to actin' shady, we are the ladies of this land, women with pride we stand, I am a WOMAN and for equal respect, I would do it again!!!

Copyright © amy epiphany tunks | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Is The Poet

Who Is The Poet

Poet is a different personality in the universe,
Whose voices come from soul
Not lip, throat, heart, brain....

Truly voice of the Almighty
And every voice is universal truth
Poet is not a part of any country, political parties and ism
Poet creates different universe and true-ism

And true leader, guide of the people in the universe.

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

Copyright © Sandip Goswami | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

First Kiss

The instant our eyes met we knew the kiss was imminent. We smile playfully all the 
while in pursuit of this aforementioned kiss. Each time we part ways we audition 
attempts at the kiss in know of its accelerated position. The instance was right, I 
knew it would be this night that I without trepidation, boundary or fear. Free from 
hesitation and wonder of return, tonight will be the night of concern. At suns set I 
stretch forward my arm, a coward no more. We adore the charm of each other and 
are ready to explore, risking harm without worry all kiss" long and longed have I for 
the moment on approach. I chose you as my love to share after approving smile this 
incredible moment of kiss. This here is the moment of truth, I can hear your heart 
beat in your ear, the same ear I now peer through into your mind and find it's true 
that all fear has disappeared. My fingers brush through a handful of your fair hair, 
together we share one final breath of single air. Our lips are now erect and on direct 
intent of meeting, millimetres remain. The time for our minds to change has past, at 
last the moment is here. Your eye sheds the tear of fears farewell, I taste the swell 
flavour of "please kiss me" and I do because I have wanted to kiss you so badly too.

Copyright © Ryan Wegenast | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

RISING WITH THE GLORY OF THE SUN

Rising with the glory of the sun,
But never to go down with it,
I'll fly higher and higher,
Side by side with eagles among the clouds,
I'll tarry until the day is done,
I'll soar waiting patiently to reign,
With the moon among the stars all through the night,
And eager to rise and shine with the sun again.

(c) 2010

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Soldier: An Emblem of Sacrifice

We know only those faces,
We have seen in history.
Yet countless strange faces are there
Who fought for the country.
We can never repudiate 
Selfless sacrifices of those men,
So I am paying tribute to all those
Martyrs and soldiers through my pen.
	
Indulged in your duties,
Far away from your family and loving ones.
You fight for our
Dreams, hopes and liberty,
Strutting boldly amidst the raging guns.
Whether it is scorching rays of Sun
Or it is blood freezing cold,
You fight relentlessly
Standing so strong and bold.
You are the true sons of the nation.
For the sake of our lives,
Irrigating this land with your blood
Is your only passion.

Time will never obliterate the fact…
You stand for us like an adobe.
With lion like courage and firmness of temper,
You have made our tricolor 
Shimmer throughout the globe.
Death can’t cease you to live
As you live even after dying.
I salute your martyrdom,
For you never got older.
Fighting to keep us free,
It is the stiffest thing 
To be you- A SOLDIER......



Copyright © Hina Saxena | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Matter of Creativity


Capital letter …

Right now, please note: it is time to dust, not write.

Dust was eating away this besieged body;
Amassing with all the misery that delights in ambush.
It crept into secret crevices,
Quietly dulling senses, as it blended in;
Softly choking, mimicking flu,
Before weaving a blanket so thick
It embraced and insulated;
Gently burying body under the weight of
An elephantine duvet with speaking tongues.

Write now, right now that house pride has succumbed to ash
As caked and empty cans and bottles decorate.
The dustman hurried by the empty drum
For rubbish barricaded the front door.

The inconvenience: to eat, drink, shop, to pay bills
Without leaving one’s desk these days.
Friends and adversaries seep out of pens,
Alphabetically springing to colourful life.
Who dares miss a thought so precious, so elusive –
Might never occur again.

So grasp it, rack it; right, left lobe battle dire emotions and reason.
Let dust prevent thoughts from leaving from whence it came.
Incarcerate all grey matters. 
Now one can write how it feels to have dust as qwerty companion.
Then fling open the door,
Let light and the world in.
Shout: “I write because I can.”  
Full stop … Exclamation mark!
End.

(PS: begin again.)

Copyright © Patricia L Graham | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Mama

Dedicated to my mother who, in my youth, I did not fully understand.. 


I wish my callings be sweet to thee; 
Abate not Oh lady the tenderness I'd missed 
Prolong thy tenderness and never a dreary; 
Your genteel should I suck from thy breast. 
From being a toddler remember I; 
That not so often I heard thy lullaby. 
And thence I asked Oh whence I came? 
I sought for answer; I didn't think ‘twas fine. 
Then years rolled by I attended school; 
Why art thou the source of my ridicule? 
The boys would laugh by what thou hinted; 
That I didn't fit a sport; I couldn't hit a target. 
It confused me much – yeah it hurt me badly 
The way thou saw me was never comely. 
Mama! Oh mama! I beseech thee 
Tell me the truth in anyway thou tell me 
Thou needest not to be subtle in telling the truth 
Let it be that I can have peace in my youth. 
The future is waiting and thither I goest 
Wish me luck; I don't want to be the lowest. 
Oh Mama, Willful as thou art, bestow in me some courage 
That even in my lowliness, I can live my life the fullest… 


                                    Date & Time of Writing: 
                                    October 4, 1988 
                                    12:03am - 10:10am 


Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Gift Of Heavenly Love

My heart awakens each day with a psalm,
Which I will joyfully recite for my King.
A psalm of pure love, a psalm of praise,
Because the Lord means everything to me.

And on my knees I happily speak the words,
Bowing down before his heavenly throne.
Lovingly he accepts what is spoken by lips,
For he knows their melodies are never done.

He saved me from sin’s deep darkened pit,
And from sinking into its tormented hell.
He gave his life as a ransom for me,
And now my heart each day must tell.

Of his goodness, his love, and tender mercies,
How his loving grace has set me forever free.
For he saved a lowly sinner from certain death,
Giving me his blessing of life I surely need.

And that is why my heart will tell the world
About the precious salvation he alone brings
For he is more valuable than even my own life
Because he means more than this world to me.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

BEYOND by Anna Lo P

..beyond fantasy, beyond reality
  beyond past, beyond present
  beyond belief, beyond faith 
  beyond imperfection, beyond beauty
  beyond youth, beyond gray.

  beyond joy, beyond hurt
  beyond honesty, beyond lies
  beyond truth, beyond doubts
  beyond humility, beyond pride
  beyond good, beyond evil.
  
  beyond kindness, beyond cruelty  
  beyond happiness, beyond sadness
  beyond possession, beyond obsession
  beyond boundaries, beyond time
  beyond death, beyond Life.

  To surpass all these, lies both their Fate.
  
  He will find Her, to have a purpose & see the light
  She will find Him, to have a meaning & feel the life
  Fortuity, Serendipity, Fate and Destiny 
  They'll meet again, holding onto their Love & Faith...

  ...xoxo...

Copyright © Anna Lo | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lifes Builders Dont Smile

Great sensitivity only used
to find the next available space
hiding from or dodging the pressure, 
embarking on a fearful race
Just to avoid the necessary, 
clenching its fist to the face
But gradually, it’ll catch up the pace
And begin puncturing
like the perforation of a lace.

every obstacle avoided
germinates a mole
Starting like scratches, 
the deficit will be a large hole
So much running is inevitably
creating an ulcerous sole
No growth or maturity, 
only tossed by insecurity
from pole to pole
And allowing consequences
seat on the throne
to play a devastating role

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wish

Wish

Seven years I’ve been waiting for
A Christmas with you I wish for
Just like the other years that passed by
My wish for Christmas never gone by

A thought bothered my mind
How do you feel fine?
How do I feel fine?
If it breaks your soul it breaks mine.

Everything you have to sacrifice
A tear drops in your eyes
I wish I could make it dry
But I too can’t stop myself to cry

I hope he will grant my wish
If not now, maybe next year
I would still be waiting here
The same wish that I wished.

Copyright © jaycel frances tamayao | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

How Did Santa Claus Broke The Reindeer Back

How Santa Claus broke the reindeer back

I am just disappointed he is such a play ball; he refuses to joined the community gym, he have no consideration for a hard working reindeer like me. Please do us all a favor and stop telling everyone that you’re tall and slim Mr. Claus
Santa put this in your pipe and smokes it. I am forming a union; you can contact my Lawyer Mr. Tin Tin

 I need some Fringe benefits else I am going to quit; year after year after year I chauffeur you around
This is not a smooth ride on green grass, it’s cold, cold snow “please looked around.
Breaking into people houses late at night, dropping off toys, we are plaster on every walls and poles
Santa this reindeer is off radar; you get off your fat ass or hire Casper the friendly ghost.

Copyright © Annie Lander | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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..

Copyright © William Smalls | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Diamond Toes

When life seems empty
And there’s no place to go
Unlike most artists I became Salvador Dali
 My Life daily tasks as a poet
It’s allow my spirit to go from high to low


 With my blessed hands and my tired feet 
  a hard working peasant woman with diamond toes
  I set the countdown each passing day while I slave away.

Those Infectious bole place in high positions,
 Governor of all the Nurses
Using their authorities to weaken the spirits of the peasant
And the down trodden souls who line your corridors both day and night

 however, this  burden that seem too heavy to bear now....(bibilical
God will lifts away on the wing of prayers.

Copyright © Annie Lander | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Today God Asked

do you love her?
cant you see it in my tearfull eyes
and when i am angry
what hurts me inside
what are my worries 
and why do i cry
why cant i just forget the things
i want to hide from my pride
what are these prayers
while walking and wondering
why do i suffer 
from yearning and longing
as if grief is not enough

why is it that i refuse 
to be comforted by anyone else
why do i feel so sorry for myself
no one seems to know my pain
nor does the one i love
when my voice should make it so plain
it doesn't have a choice
it can feel her name
is it a greater sin to covet
what i wish i had
and is blaming God, all together bad
why am i constantly reminded
that it is time to let go
yet hoping, always for an open door
and while i suffer all these pains
i never know if they are for loss or gain
when or if they will ever end
or do they just come again and again
do i love her?!!!

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

So Complete

I will enter into the house of my Lord
With a joyful heart praising his name
I will seek out his love, and great mercy
Knowing I will never again be the same

For each new day you have called out to me 
Always taking me by your unseen spirits hand
Directing my heart in the way I should  go
To share the tender grace of the great “I Am”.

For many blessings are mine to own this day
Where with a spiritual eye I may now see
The wealth which most  only dream about
But cannot have for they fail to believe

For like great King David long before me
Deep in my heart you daily place the songs
Which every morning now greets my heart
Empowering my hungry spirit all day long

Bringing to me your lasting embrace each day
Reminding me with you I will never be alone
For you allowed me to enter into your grace
Which in life shall always be my secured home

So with my prayers and many supplications
Each day I will bow down at your lovely feet
Knowing deep in my heart you are the only One
Who will always make my life so very complete.



Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Leymah Gbowee



Leymah Gbowee   O’ Nobel Laureate 2011
Is a pride to her world
A gift to her country Liberia
And an eagle that is never tire soaring for peace

In the midst of storms
She trek on advocacy’s avenue
Risking her life
To ensure that peace prevail
In her country Liberia

She believes that every woman
Has the right to freedom
Has the right to live without fear
Has the right to speak out
Has the right to work
And the right to contribute to her country’s development

She opens the umbrella of education
Giving every woman the opportunity to learn
Empowering women to become self-reliance
And developing Liberian women to become great future leaders

O’ Nobel Laureate O’ Nobel Laureate
As peace and justice sings in your soul
As you give hope to the hopeless
Heaven hails you- for the women of Liberia is your priority 



Copyright © Olivia Nimley | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Immorality

It was not the deceit that I was bothered by but instead the lies and the injustice 
through false preach and practice of a rule considered golden. I in turn vowed 
vengeance upon the lass that felt wise and sly in the breaking of said rule and set 
forth to derive a plan, the plan a lesson that would teach so deep as to chill the 
blood; ensuring the rule never to be broken again and allowing for its return to 
golden. The plan was drawn slowly and carefully like the execution of such plan will 
be. Creating multiple roads for investigation all with dead ends, false starts and 
sharp surprise; all the while carefully through time, inch by overlapping inch in 
stealth towards climax. False clues for fun with hints of no relevance, never ever 
shall I stray from what will be done. Day bled into day and so forth finds me fine 
tuning from evil edge to beautiful core what is already I am sure a masterpiece of 
plans. Early stages of watching and documenting habits as well as the habitats and 
lives of those listed, hundreds of random keys tried in locks, finding fits. Alas! Ten 
keys too turn, ten doors open at will, silent will.

Copyright © Ryan Wegenast | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fallen from Grace

Fallen from grace, 
no longer do I sit high upon the pedestal that you had once put me 
No longer am I seen as idol or mentor
Nor wanted as provider or protector 
But now looked upon as an outcast and banished from your heart. 

Betrayed by the one who now blinds you 
With a veil of lies and deceit that weighs on your young fragile heart 
With heavy words of animosity and abhorrence
 
You have been trapped in a malevolent web of hatred and retribution 
Used as an unwitting pawn in a game of emotional chess. 

Your words of respect and adoration 
Have been replaced by venomous accusations of brutality and oppression 
Taught to you by the on who now holds the chains that bind your heart. 

But I will not be vanquished or deterred 
By these attempts to falsify or dilute my love for you 
I will be strong in my resolve and true to myself
 
I will not let these misguided asseveration's destroy my confidence 
In knowing that my spirit is pure and that one day 
You will be able to break free from your restraints 
And uncover your eyes so you can distinguish the truth from the lies. 

To understand the choices that need to be made in life 
Through your own mistakes and life experiences 

Until that day comes I shall be waiting, 
Ready to stand next to you as opposed to being on that pedestal 
And walk down a new road with you as your friend and equal.

Copyright © Thomas King | Year Posted 2014